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peterman-spideyparker · 1 year

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Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy (Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Happy Halloween, everyone! Yes, it’s still technically Halloween, so I’m getting this in while I still can. I kept meaning to write this all month, but I never actually remembered to--one Hocus Pocus viewing later, and voila! Enjoy! :)

Summary: Getting in the holiday spirit, you, Matt, Karen, and Foggy to a themed Halloween costume, enjoying drinks at Josie’s after work when you make a passing comment. Come the end of the night, an opportunity arises that lets both you and Matt explore your words from the bar.

Warnings: Fluff (friendly banter, Matt and Reader are close, Reader knows about Matt’s hobby), swearing, smut (oral- f!receiving (cuz Matt can’t help himself), cowgirl, praise, p in v unprotected sex, more smut insinuated), bad plot because I wanted to write this so don’t @ me

Other Characters: Foggy Nelson and Karen Page

Word Count: 2,363

“Well, if I do say so myself, we look good,” you sigh as you lean against the bar counter. “I think we need to do an office theme group costume every year.”

“I don’t know about that,” Matt he says, clearing his throat before sipping his beer.

“No, I agree with (Y/N)—we look damn good,” Foggy seconds, tipping his hat.

“Agreed,” Karen sighs. “Best law firm in the west.”

“I just don’t remember agreeing to the Western theme,” Matt adds with a shrug.

“Well, it is what it is. And, think of it this way: we’ll be an economical option for any new faces that wander into the bar or we meet in passing tonight.”

“I’m not following,” he trails.

“Well, you know what they say, Murdock. Save a horse, ride a cowboy,” you tease, lightly bumping your hip into his. Matt clears his throat as he shakes his head in amusement and annoyance while Foggy and Karen double over in laughter.

“It wasn’t that funny,” you say with furrowed brows. “How much have you two had to drink?”

“We might have started at the office while you guys wrapped up at court,” Karen admits, but you can tell there’s something off in her response.

“Well, don’t go too nuts, yeah? My liver hurts at the idea of how much you two might drink tonight.”

“And I don’t think (Y/N) or I want to have to maneuver the streets of New York on Halloween to make sure you get home safely,” Matt adds.

“Mm!” you hum, cutting your drink short to agree with Matt. “And don’t even try to counter with cabs and ride-shares—never on Halloween.”

“Fine,” Foggy concedes. “We won’t get too sloshed, I promise. Scouts honor.”

“You weren’t a Scout,” Matt interjects.

“Just take the sentiment, hm?”

Matt and you turn to one another, speaking in your longtime friend telepathic bond before you turn back to your friends and tip your hats in unison.

“Sounds good, partner,” Matt says with a twang.

“Yeehaw,” you second.

“You should really wear flannels more, Matty,” you tell him as you walk arm and arm down the sidewalk, Foggy and Karen having broken off to walk towards their apartments.

“Thanks,” Matt nods. “I’ll make sure to add some to my shopping list.”

“Come on, it feels soft, and it must be keeping you nice and warm.”

“It is. You good? Staying warm?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Anyways, I have a human radiator walking next to me. It’s just a bummer that your apartment is before mine.”

“I’m not letting you walk home alone. I thought you knew me better than that.”

“And I’ve told you I don’t like you walking home by yourself, either. You might have all your abilities to back you, God forbid anything ever happens, but to the rest of the world, you’re just a blind man walking the street. I worry about you, Matty.”

“Well, how about you just stay over tonight?” he suggests. “We don’t have to worry about each other. I’ll even throw my Columbia sweatshirt in the dryer since you’re chilly.”

“What, no cuddles?” you joke.

You don’t need to have Matt’s super hearing to hear how his breath hitches at my words.

“I mean, if it’s a dealbreaker, I guess I can cave on it,” he chuckles.

You move to take off your hat, holding it in your hand as you rest your head in his shoulder. “Okay, Matt. You’ve got yourself a deal, lawyer-man.”

Matt laughs lightly a little more, holding your close as you round the corner to his building. When you make it up the stairs and into his loft, you hum in delight as you feel the warmth of Matt’s apartment wrap around you like hug, the lights from the billboard bathing the entire place in glorious reds and blues.

“Let me go get some clothes and throw them in the dryer for my chilly best friend,” Matt smiles, putting his hand lightly in the small of your back as he moves behinds you. The movement brings goosebumps to your skin and makes your cheeks burn hot. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you lie. “Still a bit cold, I guess.”

“Then it’s good I’m going to warm you up, then.”

You take a deep breath in through your nose and bit the inside of your lip, trying to keep the tingliness you feel at bay. While he does that, you sit on the couch, tucking your legs under yourself as you wait for him.

“Those should be good in fifteen minutes,” he says with a smile, glasses off, sitting next to you. “You’ll have to suffer just a bit longer, I’m afraid.”

“I think I’ll survive,” you sigh dramatically, resting your head in your hand, your elbow propped on the back of the couch.

“You have fun tonight?”

“I always have fun with you guys. The question is if you had fun.”

“I did,” he smiles, copying your body language. “But I think you want to tell me something, though.”

“That’s not fair you can tell things like that,” you grumble.

“But spot on,” he smirks.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Listen, I’m sorry if what I said at the bar crossed a line.”

“What did you say?”

“The horse and cowboy thing.”

“It’s okay. You saw the opportunity and took it. It’s a good joke. And it’s okay to be a little horny on Halloween.”

You swallow as you feel your heart begin to tick up. “Are you saying you’re horny tonight, Matty? Is that why you invited me back?”

“No.” You’re suddenly very aware of how close he is. “But I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it.” His forehead rests on yours. “Please tell me you’ve thought about it.”

Leaning forward, you close the small gap between you and feel his lips on yours, soft, warm, and welcoming. His hand cradles your cheek, slowly moving to the back of your head, threading his fingers in your hair. You sigh into his lips, focusing on the way his scruff scratches against your skin and how his mouth moves against yours. While you get yourself lost in the fluidity of his lips, you’re unaware of how his body reacts to you. When his hands move to grip your waist and bring you on his lap, you gasp, your lips opening into an “O” as a bright smile spreads along his face. You bring your hands to hold his face, pulling him back in for a deep kiss, your bodies rocking back and forth on the couch. Matt’s finger scrunch up the blend of your shirt in an effort to hold you impossibly close to him, pulling his lips from yours to press large, damp, needy kisses along your jaw and down the column of your neck. You whimper as his mouth secures around your pulse point, feeding on the flesh like a hungry animal.

With a grunt, Matt lifts your bodies from the couch and takes purposeful steps toward the bedroom, his mouth never once faltering from its work on your flesh. Matt leans over on the mattress, locking your body between him and the bed as he moves his fervent kisses from your neck back to your lips, but not before retracing the path he initially took. When Matt’s mouth reaches yours once more, he slips his tongue in, exploring how you taste, smushing your noses together. Your legs latch around his waist, pressing the strained tent in his jeans against your core that you feel growing wetter with each passing embrace.

You clear your head long enough to pull your lips from Matt’s, placing quick and sloppy kisses all over his face before moving to tug at his earlobe. The moan that escapes Matt’s lips is sinful, dipping his head just so to kiss your chest.

“Matty,” you whisper in his ear. “Matty, please. Let me takes these off of you.”

“Yeah angel?” he hums, dragging his nose up your throat.

Removing his body from yours, Matt doesn’t waste any time, ripping open his shirt and quickly discarding the material to his left on the mattress. While he works to get his jeans off, you mimic his movements and take your clothes off as fast as you can when you get an idea. Your panties come off with your skinny jeans and you quickly remove your bra, but not before Matt lowers his lips to your bare stomach and right to your pussy, waisting no time. Judging by the pace that he laps and sucks at the skin, he’s either incredibly horny, or he has thought about doing exactly this for a long time—the manner that his hands palm and squeeze the meat of your spread thighs make you inclined to believe it’s the second one.

Abruptly, he pulls his lips from your core and brings them back to my lips for a deep kiss and letting you taste how you mix with him. The embrace is sloppy and raunchy, making your head spin with delight. Feeling how his rock hard cock presses against you, you take advantage of the situation, rolling you around on the bed and moving down the length of his body.

“Not so fast, Matthew,” you chuckle, gently taking hold of the base of his cock, the heavy weight of his length nothing short of glorious in your hand. Tentatively, you lick the tip of his pink head, tasting the saltiness of his precum and spreading it around before slowly take him in your mouth. Matt lets out a throaty moan, and you hear his head drop onto the pillow. What you can’t fit into my mouth you supplement with your hand, moving up and down him at a steady pace, using your tongue to feel the veins and minute contours of the muscle. The more excited you get, the sloppier your movements become, and the faster the whimpers and whines fall from his lips.

“Angel,” he pants. “Fuck, you’re doing so good for me. Good girl, good gi—fuck. Just like that.”

With a delighted hum, you move back up from his length and release him with a loud pop.

“If you liked that, Matty, I think you’ll like what comes next,” you smile.

Giving him a few more pumps, you move to straddle this hips, hovering just slightly. Sliding on his discarded flannel, you tie it tight just under your breasts and lean forward to take the cowboy hat from his head that has managed to stay on this entire time, putting it on your own. A dopey, lopsided grin spreads across his face.

“And what do you have planned, exactly?” he asks with a quirk of his eyebrow.

“What I said earlier tonight,” you tell him, positioning his cock right at your entrance. “I’m going to ride a cowboy.”

With that, you sink down on his length and feel a glorious stretch. Your eyes close in delight, and you can only assume Matt’s expression matches yours from the way he interlaces his fingers with yours. Taking a moment to adjust to his length and girth, you slowly begin to move up and down him. Your moans and pants slowly start to fill the room, the sound making your heart race and your skin grow warm.

“So big, Matt,” you moan as you switch from up and down motions to rocking your hips back and forth. The change makes Matt cry out in pleasure, pulling his fingers from how they’re clasped to hold tightly to the flesh of your hips, guiding you to keep a steady rhythm. One of your hands moves to rest on his abdomen while the other holds onto the hat to keep it on.

“S-shit,” he curses. “You feel so good for me, riding me like that, sweetheart. So wet, baby.”

“Matty,” you moan as you move my hips faster.

“I know, I know. Give me those curves, baby.”

Leaning forward, you move down and kiss him, allowing him to continue guiding your hips.

“Fill me so good,” you mutter into his skin. “Hit the spot.”

“Yeah? You like how I feel in you? Huh? Fuck, you’re perfect.”

The pace and angle starts to become too much, your breathing becoming more erratic and your cries more desperate.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and cum for me?” Matt grunts in your ear, placing kisses wherever he can on your face. “Can you do that for me?”

“Y-Yes,” you pant, focusing only on Matt’s skin and how his heart thunders in his chest. It’s just enough to push you over the edge, and you squeeze his cock, your hands desperately clutching onto his shoulders while his hands maintain your momentum. “Matt!”

“I know, I-I’m clo—ohh, fuck!” Matt moans, his hips slapping hard into you, filling you with his load. “Fuck, angel!”

As you ride out your highs together, you collapse on his chest, your chests heaving from the exertion.

“Howdy,” he chuckles, pushing the hat back to kiss your forehead.

You giggle before you return the greeting: “Howdy.”

“You’re really good at that, you know.”

“You’re not half bad yourself, Murdock.”

Bringing your lips back to his, you kiss him once more, the sweetness and slow nature of the embrace different than the heated passion from your other exchanges. Matt takes the hat from your head, putting it somewhere to the side as he rolls you over, somehow staying inside of you in the change of position.

“Still want those clothes from the dryer?”

You smile and shake your head in disbelief. The sass of this man is incredible.

“I think I might be okay, especially if you let me stay in your arms for the night.”

Matt’s fingers ghost up to the knot of his shirt on your body, letting the cotton blend fabric fall to the side and expose your breasts as he lets his lips hover just over yours, teasing you as the corners of his curl up. “I don’t see that being a problem at all, angel. In fact, I don’t have any intention of letting you go.”

Permanent Taglist: @majesticavenger @steampowerednightvaler @themusingsofmany @just-the-hiddles @toozmanykids @dangertoozmanykids101 @clints-worldavengers @theburningbookshop@itwasthereaminuteago @peter1ismybrother@hellskitchens-whore @dpaccione

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farfromstrange · 2 months

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Weed Cookies | Matt Murdock x F!Reader

PART 3 of The Vault

See this post for more information on my Valentine's Day Special & Follower Celebration, but these fics can be read separately!

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Karen receives a box of cookies from one of their clients. Foggy and Matt take a bite. Even with his heightened senses though, Matt doesn't realize what's wrong with the cookies before he's absolutely wasted, and you have to babysit him. Yes, they were edibles.

Warnings: Fluff, faint hints at S3 depressed!Matt and suicidal ideations, attempt at humor, crack fic, accidental drug use, for the sake of this fic we are going to pretend that the edibles were made well enough for Mister I-Know-Everything to miss it

Word Count: 3.4k

A/n: I wrote this after watching the episode of Grey's Anatomy with the Weed Cookies. I took some behaviorisms from my own experiences and exaggerated them a little to fit the vibe of this fic. I scraped parts of this and once again adjusted them because this was even more poorly written before than it is now, and I added the Nelson, Murdock & Page Season 3 narrative again because that's now the running theme of this event. Anyway, if you choose to consume edibles, stay safe! (Also, I'm just copying and pasting my usual tag lists. if anyone wants to be added for this event, do let me know)

“We just got cookies from Ms. Lebowsky next door,” Karen announces happily when she enters the office, balancing the transparent Tupperware in one hand and her handbag in the other.

“She told me to thank you for helping her get out of that hellhole,” she says. Her eyes crinkle in the corners as a mischievous grin takes over her face. “There’s plenty for all four of us. Although she did mention Matt a few more times.”

“Ms. Lebowsky?” Foggy asks. He stands in the doorway of his office, holding a freshly brewed coffee. “Isn’t she the elderly lady we helped last week?”

“Yeah, that’s her. I think she has a crush on Matt.”

He rolls his eyes. “Of course, she does. Who doesn’t? Not that I do, but—well, you get the gist.” The blood rushes to his cheeks, and Karen giggles in response.

From the office on the left, Matt’s voice rings out, “We just did our jobs,” he says. “She made us cookies, dude!” Foggy inspects the box on Karen’s desk. “They’re chocolate chip cookies. Our favorite. See what good looks can buy you?”

Matt chuckles, his fingers tracing the Braille indentations in the documents that are starting to form a mountain before him. “I think we got them because we’re good lawyers, Foggy.”

“Yeah, right. No way! That woman was smitten the second she came in. I really gotta get that blind thing going. I mean, she’s way too old for you, but come on! You’re in a serious committed relationship, and women still come piling at your door. It’s not fair.”

The way he whines like a little kid who has just been denied his favorite candy makes Karen laugh at his antics, and even Matt can’t help but join in. No matter how stressed he is, and how badly he wants to focus, Foggy never fails to lighten the mood.

Ever since moving offices, things have been going well for the trio.

When Matt met you, he was at his lowest. You helped him climb out of a dark hole that was threatening to swallow him whole after losing Elektra and almost losing everything he worked so hard for to Wilson Fisk. Thanks to you, he found the will to fight again. You brought him back to life.

He wanted to die. He hated himself for the longest time after the building collapsed and forever took the first woman he ever loved down with its ruins, but then you came into his life, and you didn’t care about his baggage. You were far too good for him, but that didn’t matter to you.

He fell for you hard and fast, and maybe the timing was a little off because what he needed was therapy and not someone new to get attached to. Still, if you hadn’t pulled him back to his feet and encouraged him to fight back against Fisk, saving his friendship with the people he cares most about in the process, he would have never made it far enough to get therapy.

Matt trusts you with his life because he feels like he owes it to you, but he also loves you more than anything. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to him. You’re his soulmate, and he couldn’t be happier.

Nelson & Murdock added Karen to their permanent repertoire. With her, things are flowing much more smoothly, and they’re actually making money now. They’re expensive, as Foggy likes to say it. Matt’s friends are just as happy as he is, giving him hope for the future.

“Hey,” Foggy snaps him out of his trance, “Earth to Murdock.”

Matt blinks behind his glasses, his fingers halting their frantic movements along the paper. “While I don’t disagree with what you’re saying,” he says, “please don’t let my girlfriend hear you say that women are piling at my door.”

Karen snorts. “Trust me, Matt. She knows,” she says.

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t remind her of that.”

“My lips are sealed. Foggy?”

He sighs, once again dramatically. “As long as you don’t sleep with them, you have nothing to fear, my friend.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” says Matt. “The one I’m sleeping with is incomparable.”

Foggy grimaces. “Oh, dude. Gross! You know, God made conscious thought as a mechanism for humans to know when to shut up.”

“To be fair, ninety percent of the population don’t know how to use that mechanism,” Karen jumps to Matt’s defense.

As he laughs, he takes a whiff of the air surrounding their new baked goods. Matt can smell the sweet chocolate of the cookies, and somewhat of a herbal essence, but he can’t quite pinpoint why the scent seems so familiar.

Karen walks around her desk to drop her bag and her coat. “So, do guys want a cookie?” she asks, swiftly changing the subject.

“I’ll take one,” Foggy is quick to answer.

Matt nods from his desk. “I’ll try one, too.”

The innocent decision to indulge in a sweet treat soon comes back to bite them in the ass though. Heavily.

When Matt first bit into the cookie, he didn’t think there was anything wrong with it. It tasted like chocolate mixed with basil, sugar, honey, and the kind of flour Ms. Lebowsky used, but he didn’t find much else wrong with it. Perhaps if he hadn’t allowed himself to get distracted by his phone calling out your name and the sweetest text he could have possibly received this early in the morning from the love of his life, he would have noticed that something tasted off about these cookies. And that what he believed to have been basil as a secret ingredient was something else entirely.

When lunchtime finally rolls around, you drop everything you were doing before and make your way to Matt’s office. You always spend lunch together. It’s your favorite time of the day. For an hour, you can forget the stress of your workplace and focus on him. He’s your safe haven. Your home. You crave to memorize his features anew every day so that you will have something to carry around with you when he has to work a bit longer, or when he goes out at night and his Daredevil duties drag on beyond what he planned.

You need to be with him as much as possible because you’re scared that your happiness will shatter on a white cloth, and you will be forced to move on—you can’t imagine losing him. You dedicated your life to loving him, and the thought of ever losing that privilege kills you.

On your way out, your phone vibrates in your pocket. You smile, thinking that it’s Matt, but when Karen’s number pops up on your screen, you frown.

‘We have a problem,’ she texted you. Without context.

All the alarms in your head start blaring, and you start to walk a little faster. You start imagining all possible scenarios. When you ask Karen what’s going on, she doesn’t even reply. What if someone got hurt? What if something happened to Matt? You almost lost him once; you can’t go through that again.

You burst into the new office space that your friends share a few minutes later, your chest heaving and sweat dripping down your pulsating temples. You’re ready to fight whoever dared to hurt the man you love, or possibly threaten your friends, or both, but when you look up and see your darling boyfriend with his cheek pressed against one of the leaves on their gigantic office plant as if the overgrown Calathea were the coziest pillow he has ever touched, you understand why Karen texted you that you—both you and her—have a problem. A big one, too, judging by the looks of it.

“What is going on here?” you ask the dreaded question, shutting the door behind you.

Only then do you notice Karen to your right in Foggy’s office, trying to get him off of his office chair. He’s belting the chorus of Defying Gravity at the top of his lungs, and he’s got a broom clutched tightly in his right hand.

Oh boy. Your wide eyes drift to Karen’s desk in the middle of the room. As soon as you see the chocolate cookies inside the Tupperware, it slowly begins to dawn on you.

You’re not sure which is worse: Matt cradling a houseplant with his glasses discarded and the first three buttons of his dress shirt undone as he’s coated in sweat, or Foggy singing one of Broadway’s greatest ballads so off-key that the Calathea is starting to wither.

It takes Matt much longer than usual to sense your presence in the room. He calls your name, and his lips curl into a bright grin. Even completely out of it, he looks like an angel on earth.

“Matthew,” you say. You approach him like you would approach a little kid. He’s on his knees, so the analogy isn’t far off.

“Hi, honey. What’s going on?”

“Sweetheart,” he greets you, and you have never heard this man sound so relaxed. His hazel eyes are red-rimmed and glazed over, but the most obvious change lies in his behavior.

“Feel that.” He reaches for your hand when you’re close enough for him to smell you, but he misses. “Where are you?” Matt pouts. “I can’t see.”

You want to laugh, but this is not the time. “You are blind, baby,” you remind him.

“Since when?”

“Over twenty years.”

“Oh.” He finally gets a hold of your hand. The conversation seems to go right over his head. “Feel the power of nature,” he tells you. “It’s so soft.”

You want to drag him away from the potentially dangerous plant if he decides to eat it, but the sight of him is one to behold. He looks downright adorable.

You have to focus though. You gently pat his hand. “Maybe later,” you say, and then you make your way to Karen’s desk to inspect the cookies.

Behind you, she calls your name. You twirl around. From the looks of it, she managed to get Foggy down from his chair, but he remains singing at the top of his lungs. All the signs point to one thing, and one thing only.

“Did you give my boyfriend weed cookies?” you sound a lot more condescending than you planned to.

Karen shakes her head. Her face is pale, and she looks just as panicked as you do. “Those are not mine,” she says.

“But you knew they were edibles?!”

“Of course, I didn’t! I started questioning it when Matt started cuddling the plant because his Braille felt like boobs and he didn't want to cheat on you, so he decided that he needed to touch some grass.” She points to him, exasperated. As if on cue, Matt lets out a happy little sigh.

Your brain struggles to process all of the information at once. “I’m sorry, what?”

“He said that his Braille feels like boobs. I don’t know! I thought he was messing with me until Foggy turned into Elphaba, and that’s when I took a bite and realized there was weed in them,” she says.

You groan, your worried eyes momentarily flicking back to your high boyfriend. High. That’s not a word you thought you would ever associate with him. “How did this happen?” you ask.

“Ms. Lebowsky, the lady next door, we helped her out the other day, and this morning, she gave me these cookies. I called her when these two started acting like idiots—more than usual, anyway. Turns out, she confused them with the ones her niece made for her birthday party tomorrow.”

“Her niece made edibles for her birthday party?”

“Please, don’t ask. I don’t have all the details. I just–”

“It’s fine,” you cut her off. “Just tell me that you’ve got Foggy under control.”

Karen peeks in through the window to his office. “More or less, yeah. You’ve got Matt?”

“Yeah, I’ve got him.”

You have to take care of him. He’s your responsibility. But as calm as he is right now, his heightened senses make the situation a lot more complex than the mere accidental consumption of edibles.

Walking over to him, you try to haul him up. He protests, at first, but then he feels the fabric of your shirt, and he slacks.

Matt wraps his arms around you, burying his face in your neck. “You’re so soft,” he coos. “You smell like honey.”

With his entire weight on you, you have to widen your stance so you won’t fall over. His usually quick reflexes are nonexistent right now; he won’t be able to catch you if you trip, and then you’re both going to get hurt.

“You know what’s even softer?” you ask.

“The plant,” he answers confidently. He sounds like a more careless version of himself. You can’t deny that it does something to you.

“No, silly,” you chuckle softly, “I meant your bed.”

“Oh. But I’m not tired.”

“You’re high.”

He pouts. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.” You stroke his back. “It’s okay. I’m not mad at you.”

He stiffens and relaxes at the same time. You swear you can feel the electricity in his veins as his nerves respond to the feeling of your skin on his. It’s like he’s on fire. Like your touch feels a million times more intense, and he’s being crushed under the weight of it in a way that makes him crave more.

He squeezes you tighter, trying to get swallowed by you, consumed to the point that you are the same person. The drugs are doing a number on him, and his already heightened sense of feeling has increased tenfold to the point you’re not sure if it’s pleasurable or painful or both. It must be agonizing, yet at the same time there is a high chance that the weed is calming his nerves and dampening his perception to the point he’s taking everything in without the added weight—he’s enjoying the newfound sensations in limbo, and he’s unaffected by it. You wonder how long that is going to last.

After bidding farewell to Karen, wishing her good luck with Foggy who has now reached a point of his high where he’s lying on the floor, demanding to listen to Bohemian Rhapsody and cry over Freddie Mercury. She assures you that she has got it under control, apologizes again, and then sends you on your way.

“Bye, Karen,” Matt says. “You have very nice hair.” His hand tangles in yours, and his face lights up like a Christmas Tree. You managed to convince him to put his glasses on, at least, or he might get irritated. “Never mind,” his voice turns into a pur.

Usually, you would shiver at his fingers in your hair, tracing the strands and sensually massaging your scalp only he knows how to, but today is not one of those days. You’re still concerned about the effects that the weed might have on him, so you want to be careful, although you’re not sure how much longer you can keep yourself from laughing.

As you maneuver Matt through the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, his cane hovers above the ground and his arm is hooked around yours. Without you, he would have run off into traffic by now. He has absolutely no spatial awareness anymore.

Every sound, scent, and texture seems to capture his attention, but there's one sensation in particular that he can't seem to shake: thirst. You’re not even home yet, and you had to stop by a convenience store to get him a bottle of water. He shed his coat, which you are now carrying for him while also guiding him while simultaneously trying not to attract any unwanted attention.

You can’t help but look at him as though he is your whole world. He is. He is everything to you, even high on edibles he never meant to consume, and acting like a feral toddler. If anything, you are even prouder now that he is yours.

“Hey,” he whispers, leaning close to you, “do you think fire hydrants taste like licorice?”

You shake your head. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Matt, don’t lick the fire hydrant.”

He pouts. For a moment, you think that you have steered off any possible disaster, but that was only wishful thinking.

Matt’s curiosity knows no bounds, and he’s soon reaching out to touch anything that catches his eye. He runs his fingers along the rough brick foundation of a building, marveling at the texture, and he stops to sniff a flower, declaring, “This is the most beautiful flower I have ever smelled.”

You pluck it for him, and he carries it in the pocket of his coat with a happy smile.

You’re both exhausted when you finally make it to his apartment. Getting his large frame through the door is one thing, stopping him from tearing the tap off the sink as he desperately searches for liquid with the words, “Water!” is another.

“Okay, okay,” you try to calm him. You grab a bottle from the fridge, open it for him, and force him to take it. “Drink.”

One touch is enough for him to drop it. “It’s cold,” he recoils in agony.

You sigh. “Tap water it is, then.”

You have never seen him down so many glasses of water. He is severely dehydrated and sensitive to changes in temperature. It’s either too hot or too cold, and you’re so glad that Karen texted you when she did.

You manage to get him to the couch with some snacks that he devours within seconds. If he moves one more inch today, you may not be able to catch him again.

His lip twitches. “Chickens don’t have any arms.”

You pause in the process of wrapping him in a blanket, staring blankly ahead at him. “Excuse me?” you ask.

“Chickens don’t have any arms,” Matt states. “Every American citizen has the right to bear arms under the second amendment in the constitution. If an egg was fertilized on US soil, and the chicken hatched there as well, technically, that makes them a citizen of the United States of America, therefore allowing tiny creatures without arms the right to bear arms, but who gives the bears their arms?”

You’re so flabbergasted that the absurdity of the situation eludes you. The words process only slowly in your mind, and when they do, they cause a wave of confusion to wash over you before it turns into genuine amusement, and it takes every ounce of self-control to keep yourself from laughing at him.

You can pinpoint the exact second the thought escapes his mind and something else replaces it. His hand brushes over the leather couch. “Smooth,” he observes. You haven’t even fully processed his very philosophical question about the animal kingdom before he drops his cheek down on the couch.

The man who has been carrying the weight of the world in bricks on his back for years is finally relaxed; it shouldn’t leave such a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

You kneel in front of him, reaching out to touch his cheek. “Do you need anything?” you ask.

Matt’s gaze is filled with an odd sort of clarity. “Nah. Just you,” he mumbles.

A soft smile tugs at your lips as you brush a sweaty strand of hair away from his forehead. "I'm right here," you reassure him.

He nods, his eyelids drooping as the effects of the edibles start to take their toll. “Good.” He searches for your hand, and you help him intertwine your fingers. A giddy smile finds its way onto his face. “You’re warm.”

You lean in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “And you’re high,” you tease.

Matt huffs out a breathy laugh. “Mmh, yeah,” he says. “But it’s okay. ‘Cause you’re here.”

Despite the chaos and the unexpected turn of events, there’s a sense of contentment settling over you as you watch him drift off into a state of bliss. He deserves it more than anyone.

You stay by his side, watching over him as he succumbs to the pull of sleep that you’re all too familiar with after a sudden high.

“Note to self,” you say to yourself, “never eat a stranger’s cookies without drug testing them first.”

And love has funny ways of making even the most absurd moments feel strangely beautiful.

Matt Murdock Tag List: @littlenerdyravenclaw @yarrystyleeza @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @thatonegamefish @norestfortheshelbywicked @mattkinsella @itwasthereaminuteago @linamarr @gpenguin666 @acharliecoxedfan

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x you #daredevil #daredevil x reader #reader insert #from the vault #charlie cox #weed cookies

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sunflowersandsapphires · 8 months

Text

Why You Gotta Tempt My Trouble?

Of Oak and Ivy, Chapter 1

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

summary: In college, Matt Murdock had two best friends, Foggy Nelson and you. However, life had no intention of letting you graduate with him. When he reconnects with you in adulthood, he is troubled to see the hand God has dealt you and vows to use every tool at his disposal to save you from damnation.

warnings: swearing, sickly sweet fluff, get ready for some pining y'all.

a/n: Here's the first chapter of the college fic! The next one won't be posted until I've written a few more (which might be a while because I'm trying to make them longer and I'm only one chapter ahead at the moment.) Please let me know if you like it and want to see more or be added to the taglist! Words of Affirmation is my shit and life is really tearing me down right now. Also huge thank you to @firefly-graphics for the beautiful divider!

w/c: 5.3k

Digging the heels of your hands into your eyes, you resisted the urge to bang your head on the counter you sat at in an attempt to reboot the organ. This passage made no damn sense and you had mere days to understand it and conform to its ideals in order to do well in the class that it was assigned to. Biting your lip, you flipped back a few pages to start the chapter over for the third time when the sound of someone clearing their throat nearly startled you out of your seat.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry, I didn’t see you!” Saving your place in the worn book, you looked up to find a young man standing before you. He was handsome, with fluffy, inky locks and a charming smile on his lips.

“That’s alright, I, uh, can’t quite fault you there.” He smiled sideways at you, gesturing to the opaque rectangular frames on his nose. Your mouth formed an “O” shape before you tripped over your response.

“I want to laugh but that feels wrong. Is it more rude to laugh or not laugh? Oh god, forget I said that, I—“

The boy in front of you chuckled. “It’s quite alright, and it was meant to be a joke.”

“Right, well, sorry again. How can I help you?” You clasped your hands, tilting your head as you waited for his response.

“I was wondering if you had braille copies of any of these textbooks?” As he posed the question, the handsome boy passed you a list of the textbooks he was looking for.

Looking over the document, you pursed your lips. “That is a fantastic question that we will have to answer together. I wish I knew off the top of my head, but today's only my third day on the job.” You cringed, wishing your manager was here.

“I imagine it’s not a common question, so I won’t hold it against you.” There was that charming smile again. Your insides felt like they were slowly melting under his grin.

“That’s, um, very kind of you.” You stammered out, feeling heat flood your cheeks.

“Matt.” He broke in. “Matt Murdock. And you are..?”

Offering your name, you dutifully turned back to the index, scanning the pages for any clue as to where braille copies would be stocked.

“That’s a pretty name, it suits you.” Your fingers halted in their dance across the page, your eyes flitting back to the gorgeous customer.

“As much as I appreciate that, turning up the charm won’t change the fact that it might take a minute for me to find these.” Your eyes narrowed as you became skeptical of his intentions.

“Take your time. It’ll give me more time to get to know you.” The flirty grin never faltered on Matt’s face.

“Oh you’re trouble.” You shook your head, thumbing through the pages of the file before you. “I’m starting to think I should search on my own.”

Matt just laughed, leaning forward on his white cane and grinning at you. “Where should we start?”

“I have a couple ideas.”

You and Matt searched far and wide for accessible copies of the textbooks he needed. While they—thankfully—did exist, they were scattered throughout the store haphazardly, not in either location the index had suggested. The lack of care and attention the volumes had gotten was making you progressively more irritated. There was absolutely no reason these books should’ve been treated with such disrespect, even if they weren’t commonly asked for.

After finding all but one book on his list, it was barely past store closing. Locking the door with a huff, you clocked out before joining Matt where he was seated on the ground by the first shelf.

“I hate to say this, but I think we might need to order you a new copy.” You remarked with a frown, scuffing your shoe along the faded carpet on the bookstore’s floor.

Matt, whose pleasant personality hadn’t dimmed despite the lackluster findings, simply chuckled, knocking his shoulder into yours.

“Well, we gave it the old college try, so to speak.” He waggled his eyebrows at you above his dark glasses.

You groaned, but couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped your throat. Despite your intense introversion and social awkwardness, Matt put you at ease.

“Sorry, my roommate is rubbing off on me.” He gave an exaggerated grimace.

“Is he a law student too?”

“Yep. Foggy Nelson. The three of us might actually have some classes together.” Matt’s face lit up with the idea. You’d confessed during your hunt that you had already purchased your own copies of many of the books on his list. Given that you were both first year law students, it made sense that you’d be in classes with one another, but you felt a weight lift off your chest nonetheless.

“Honestly, that makes me feel so much better. I’m incredibly nervous.” You confessed, focusing on a fraying patch of carpet underneath your sneaker.

“I’m sure you’ll do great.” Matt leaned against you, focusing on you in a way that made your chest flutter.

“See you say that not knowing how long it’s taking me to get through the first reading assignment for Legal Methods.” You dropped your head into your hands, remembering the cursed passage from earlier.

“Foggy mentioned something about that book. It’s…outdated?”

“That’s an understatement. The first chapter is about a famous eugenics case, Buck v Bell, and I might be reading it wrong but it seems like the author is suggesting that we don’t have ableism that resembles that of the case in current day? I was getting so frustrated reading it that I honestly couldn’t tell if it was confusing or just a stupid argument.” You explained.

“It’s in the McKinnon book, right? If you want, we could read it together and try to figure it out? Unless you have somewhere else to get to…” Matt Murdock, the charming, unswayable man you’d met a few hours ago blushed at the question, making you grin.

“I would love to hear your opinion on the text, Mr. Murdock. We can start an unofficial study group.”

“I like the sound of that. Let’s crack open this shit show.” Matt let you pull him off the ground and over to your work station where he opened his own copy of the text and began to read.

A few hours and more than a few boxes of takeout later, you and Matt were still working your way through the chapter, though you’d both decided with certainty that the text was more angering than confusing.

“If the professor is as ableist as this author, I’ll never be able to pass this class.” You grumbled, shoving the hellish book away from you. “There’s no way I can pretend that eugenic ideals have disappeared, even for a better grade.”

“Seriously. I’m hoping it’s supposed to make us mad so we can argue about it? Though I seriously doubt everyone will be on our side, unfortunately.” Matt scowled.

“Well, at least we have each other, right?” The man in front of you perked up with that comment, but you hurriedly corrected yourself. “And your roommate, of course.”

Deflating slightly, Matt scratched the back of his neck. “Speaking of, I should probably get back so he doesn’t send out a search party. I’ll see you in class?”

“See you then, trouble maker.” You murmured, smiling softly at him.

“Have a good night, sweetheart. Get home safe.”

“You too.”

A few days later, your evening with the sweet law student had fallen to the back of your mind as nerves about your first semester of classes set in. Fidgeting with your outfit in the mirror, you inhaled a shaky breath.

“Stop worrying, you’ll be fine!” The voice of your roommate, Jen, rang out across your shared loft making your brow furrow.

“Easy for you to say! You’ve done this before.” You groused, still examining your reflection. Jen was an old friend of yours who had lived down the street from you growing up. The two of you had been practically inseparable since elementary school, despite the fact that she was two years older than you.

“Jen’s right, you know.” Oscar, Jen’s long-term boyfriend and your unofficial second roommate, squeezed your shoulder on his way to the kitchen. “Everyone is going to be nervous, so they won’t have time to judge you.”

“Yah, yah. I appreciate the votes of confidence but, unfortunately, my anxiety and I have to hit the road. I would rather not be late.”

“Have fun!” Oscar called as you grabbed your bag.

“You’re gonna kill it!” Shouted Jen as you exited the apartment.

You shook your head, hoping they were right, and set off for your first ever Columbia Law class.

The trek across campus was pretty and the walk helped you calm your racing thoughts. The walkways were littered with other first year students who looked more clueless than you—including a blond boy with a kind face who was staring quizzically at a kiosk in front of him that was plastered with event flyers.

He muttered to himself for a moment before reaching to the side of the kiosk obscured from your view and tugging on the arm of someone beside him. “Ok dude, according to this map we should be heading…” He paused, squinting at the paper he was reading before dramatically pointing left. “West!”

“That’s East.” You chuckled, walking over to inspect the map for yourself. As you neared the misguided fellow, your eyes widened as you recognized his friend. “Matt?”

Laughing brightly and greeting you, Matt tugged free of the other man’s grip and strode over to you. “Are you following me?” He narrowed his eyes at you but his tone remained playful.

Shoving him, you scoffed. “You wish, Murdock. I was going to warn your friend here that the upperclassmen usually put up fake maps as a prank on the first day of classes.”

“Thank god we have someone to warn us of their cruelty, or we’d be dead meat!” The blond spun around and bowed in front of you. “Franklin Nelson, at your service m’lady. You can call me Foggy”

You giggled, introducing yourself. “It’s such a shitty prank. Thankfully, I have roommates who are in their third year and they showed me around weeks ago. Where are you headed?”

“Greene Hall.” Matt informed you.

“Oh, that’s where I’m headed too! Civil Procedure? With Professor McGuiness?”

“The very same! We’re damn lucky to have run into you.” Foggy sighed, shaking his head.

“It’s this way, and we aren’t too far. We’ll probably get there early.”

“That’s good because this one,” Foggy stuck a thumb at Matt, “Has this idea that we need to sit in the front if we don’t want to fail. I’d be perfectly fine sitting in the last row and never being called on once!”

“Studies show that sitting in one of the first few rows increases retention!” Matt elbowed his roommate who just snorted.

“Retention schmention. I say we sit by the cutest people in the class and have them tutor us when we inevitably fail.” Foggy winked at you and you laughed.

Matt squeezed your arm, leaning closer to you. “I think that can be arranged regardless.”

Heat rose in your cheeks as his flirtatious grin made a reappearance. “Oh shut up, trouble maker, or I’ll sit in the very last row just to spite you.”

“We wouldn’t want that.” Matt held out an arm, “Mind walking me to class, sweetheart?”

Rolling your eyes, you turned to Foggy. “How do you put up with him? You’re a Saint, truly.” But you took Matt’s arm anyway, ensuring that you were keeping a steady pace and avoiding anything he might trip over.

The walk to your first law class was, eventful, to say the least. Matt and Foggy were clearly soulmates of a sort, with their nonstop bantering and the way they balanced each other out. Foggy was a ray of sunshine, while Matt was more comfortable in the shadows, so to speak. The blond was all loud declarations and bright smiles, while Matt was more low toned flirting and quiet observations. They were both incredibly intelligent, overly sarcastic, and had a flair for the dramatic. You were ecstatic to have stumbled into their lives.

Matt had successfully cajoled the both of you into sitting with him in the second row, a compromise which Foggy considered a huge win. As students filed in, you subconsciously fiddled with your shirt, suddenly feeling incredibly insecure about your presence in this classroom. A gentle hand grabbed your wrist, making you jump.

“Relax,” Matt whispered. “You look fine, trust me.”

“How do you know?” You murmured nervously.

“Those boys a few rows behind us are staring.” Matt’s smile remained, but his voice held a tension you couldn’t quite place. “And the TA is trying very hard not to.”

“How on earth can you tell that?” You raised an eyebrow at him, incredulous.

“Matt is seriously like some sort of super powered being. He has the greatest intuition of anyone I’ve ever met. Best to trust him about these things.” Foggy nodded solemnly, clearly trying not to burst out laughing.

You simply rolled your eyes, pulling your notebook from your bag. Opening it to the correct page, you stifled a giggle as Foggy leaned over Matt’s lap to whisper-yell at you.

“Why do you already have notes written? Matt, why does she already have notes written?”

“I like to come prepared. I took notes on the first few chapters of the book.”

“But we didn’t even have an assignment for this class!”

“Yah, but I was bored at work and I thought I’d get a head start.” You just shrugged but Foggy glared at you, shaking a finger in your face.

“You’re gonna make the rest of us look like slackers! You, missy, have some apologizing to do.”

“For doing my due diligence?” You laughed.

“Yes! For being too proactive. I think you owe us a tutoring session or two.” Foggy crossed his arms with a huff.

“You have no idea if I even know what I’m doing, these notes could be gibberish!” You chuckled, shaking your head.

“Nope, it’s good material. I can tell. You owe us. Doesn’t she, Matt?” Foggy elbowed his roommate who smirked.

“I think he might be right, sweetheart. What would you say to being the leader of our study group.” Matt tilted his head, focusing on you.

“Do I have a choice?” You sighed.

“No!” Foggy exclaimed at the same time Matt responded, “Not really.”

“Then I accept, but I want my objection noted.”

“It’s all in the record, don’t worry.” Foggy waved a hand, turning his attention back to the front of the room as the Professor walked to the front.

The rest of the week went similarly, as you had three of four classes at the same time as Matt and Foggy. They made great company, so you could hardly complain, but it was the first meeting of your “unofficial official study group” (as Foggy had dubbed it) and you were quite nervous.

You were fairly confident that you knew what you were talking about, but the idea of being the backbone for two other grades besides your own was quite stressful. Not to mention the jittery feeling you got every time your brain reminded you that you’d been in Matt’s room with him for an extended period of time. You chided yourself, Matt—though he was incredibly flirty—was one of the best friends you’d ever had, and you’d be damned before you jeopardized that because you were touch-starved and more than a little thirsty.

Taking a deep breath to keep your antsy libido in check, which was getting increasingly difficult given the fact that you were sitting atop Matt’s bed practically cuddled against him, you turned your focus to the space in front of you for a moment of redirection.

The room was small, a standard dorm room with two long skinny bed frames that held stiff foam mattresses, two identical desks with chipped paint and lumpy rolling chairs, and a bolted-shut window. Although the room was dim and cramped, the view was gorgeous, overlooking a rectangular patch of grass framed with lush green trees and the distant Manhattan skyline, bright with yellow lights against the black of the atmosphere.

Shifting your focus to the inside of the room, you smiled at the dichotomy on full display. While it was clear both boys had cleaned in preparation for your visit, Foggy’s side of the room was haphazardly straightened, with loose socks peeking out from underneath the bed and a handful of stray candy wrappers still visible atop his desk. Matt’s half of the space was meticulously organized, complete with braille labels. It was clear that everything had its place.

A shoulder nudged yours and you choked on a breath in your haste to turn towards the presence beside you. Matt smirked, but a small crease was present between his brows. “You ok? You stopped reading…”

“Yup!” You squeaked, clearing your throat and trying again. “Yes, sorry. Got distracted by your view.” Which was mostly true...

“Is it nice? Foggy’s never told me.” Matt grins sideways at you, furrow on his smooth skin fading.

“It’s…stunning. There’s a lot of green up front, with the lawn and plants and whatnot, but the red brick buildings contrast beautifully. And behind campus you can see the rest of the city, like we’re in an urban valley almost. It’s not like anything I’ve ever seen.”

“It sounds pretty. You should describe more sights for me, sweetheart. You’re good at it.”

Heat ran up your face at the compliment, pulsing in your cheeks and the tips of your ears. Turning from the window, you found your chest settling calmly as you studied Matt’s face. You’d never been this close to him and it was startling how easily his innocuous expression stirred up emotions in you.

He had the slightest shadow of stubble gracing his sharp jawline. As you ran your eyes along his face, you found yourself lingering on the beautiful hazel eyes, nearly blocked by his dark glasses. The blank, honey-bronze orbs held more emotion than you’d ever seen in someone’s expression. In the small time you’d known Matt, you found yourself constantly moved by his passion—for his city, for justice, for Foggy, even for you.

“So can we get back to the precedent of Buck v. Bell or are you just gonna stare lovingly at Matt all night?” Foggy smiled sweetly at you but the glint in his eyes made it clear he was annoyed.

“I wasn’t—I mean I—“ You sputtered, scootching farther away from Matt in an effort to conceal your obvious crush.

“Whatever. It’s late and I’d like to finish soon. Precedent?” Foggy prompted, pointing to his textbook.

“Well, the main point is that disabled and institutionalized individuals were no longer considered to have the same rights as other people.” Matt huffed, thumbing through his textured pages.

“Right. And the opinion implies that losing rights through due process opens you up to losing rights in the future without another trial.” You added, squinting at a particular paragraph for clarity.

“Which sucks, but checks out for 1927.” Foggy frowned.

“If I’m interpreting the important parts correctly, this case is meant to highlight an important consequence of precedent, which is that one decision can impact the judicial system for decades, even over important things like due process.” You explained, turning to Matt. “Is that what you got from this?”

“That’s about what I interpreted, yah.” Matt nodded, giving Foggy a sly grin. “That enough of an explanation for ya, Nelson? Or do we need to break it down point by point.”

“Shut up, Murdock.” Foggy grumbled. “I’d be better with this if I wasn’t dog-tired.”

“You’re doing great, Foggy. Don’t listen to him. All we have left to do this week is read for Torts and then we are home free.” You smiled sympathetically.

“Ugh!” Foggy flopped down onto his pillows, covering his face with his hands.

“Not to be a pain, but I don’t have this text…” Matt shifted uncomfortably, biting his lip.

“That’s alright, I can read mine aloud. If that’s ok with you, Foggy?” You looked to the half-asleep law student for confirmation who nodded tiredly.

“If it allows me to close my eyes, I’d be more than happy to listen.”

Matt chuckled, before tilting his head towards you. “Can I come closer? To make sure I don’t miss anything?” You could’ve sworn you saw Foggy roll his eyes, but you blinked and he remained still as a corpse against his pillows.

“Of course, Matt. Here.” Shuffling closer to him, you lay the textbook across both of your laps, trying incredibly hard to not focus on how warm he was. “This ok?”

Matt nodded, mouth parted slightly and your eyes followed his tongue as it darted out to wet his lips. For a moment, all you heard was static and the soft puffs of Matt’s breath. Coming back into your body, you shook your head to clear out the lovestruck cobwebs.

“Ok, um, Introduction to American Civil Law: Chapter 1, Liability and Negligence…”

To tell the honest truth, Matt hadn’t taken in a word you’d spoken since you passed the introductory paragraph. Legal jargon washed over him like the water of a warm bath, spoken by a soothing dulcet voice and punctuated by the steady thump of your kind heart. Your thigh was resting against his and he could feel the tension in your neck as you desperately kept it mere inches from its desired landing place on his shoulder. Your soft t-shirt brushed over his arm with each expanse of your chest as you inhaled, rubbing more of your sweet lavender and vanilla scent over his skin.

As you continued to be blissfully unaware of his lack of attention, or rather his abundance of attention, his body was fighting an internal battle to not sweep you into his arms and bury his face in your neck.

Leaving St. Agnes had been a culture shock for the ages, but Matt was beginning to love it. The orphanage had been an overwhelmingly lonely place, which Matt attributed to his tendency to pick fights and his disability causing him to stand out. Meeting his new roommate had been nerve wracking, but Foggy was as easy to like as the first ray of sunshine in the spring, despite his grumpiness when he was exhausted. Sure he was messy and his snoring had kept Matt awake for hours, but he had a massive heart. Though he and Foggy had very different lifestyles, the other man fit perfectly into his life, as did you. Matt was more than aware of his tendency to form quick attachments, but his feelings toward you were an entirely different beast.

The night he’d met you in the bookstore, an invitation to go on a date with him had been teetering on the edge of his tongue for hours. Flirting came naturally to him, one of the many reasons he didn’t get along with the other boys of Clinton Church, but given his less than standard childhood, he’d never had the opportunity to start a relationship. Every minute he spent with you made it more obvious that you deserved to be loved, not aimlessly thrown into a date or two, and Matt wasn’t sure he would be able to provide that. At least not now.

An ear-splitting snore sounded from the other side of the room, abruptly ending his daydream. Your arm left its place at his side as you stifled a laugh. “Guess I was more boring than I thought.”

“Trust me, it’s not because of you. That man could fall asleep to the sound of a fire alarm if he tried hard enough.” Matt smirked, humor not quite reaching his eyes as his brain mourned the loss of your touch. Feeling you shift tensely next to him, he pondered for a moment. “If you’re worried about waking him, we could go somewhere else?”

“Where would we go at 2 in the morning on a Thursday?” You groaned, desperately aching to be done with school work for the week but simultaneously more than willing to spend all night with Matt.

“I know a place. But we will probably want this blanket.” Matt grinned at you as your confusion peaked, but you threw the blanket over your shoulder and took his hand nonetheless.

How your friend had discovered that the roof of Butler Library remained accessible after hours via a secluded maintenance stairwell, you’d never know—but you couldn’t help but thank the heavens for granting you this slice of paradise.

The cement that compromised the roof was cold, a symptom of being deprived of the sun for hours now, but you and Matt lay huddled together on his bedspread, lounging in a pocket of warmth your closeness had created. You were practically snuggling, which was not helping soothe the part of your brain that was rabidly attracted to him, sharing your highs and lows from the week.

As the two of you giggled about an incident with a pigeon that had decided to attend Civil Procedure, you found your eyes tracing over the moonlit form of the beautiful man before you, who seemed to notice your staring as his lips quirked up. “So, tell me, sweetheart, how’s a girl like you end up in a place like this?”

With an exaggerated groan, you shoved him playfully. “You and your damn lines, Murdock.”

With a chuckle, Matt’s expression turned from something entirely playful into one of genuine interest. “Seriously, what brought you to Columbia?” Feeling your heart pound under his blank gaze, you blew out a breath.

“That is a long, sad story that I’m sure you don’t really—“

“If you don’t want to tell me, I totally get it. But I’d like to know more about you.” Matt’s answer was honest and lacking his perpetually flirty edge that kept you at a safe distance, which sent a burst of heat to your stomach that you weren’t expecting.

“Oh, well...” Sighing deeply, you considered your options. You’d had a hard time making friends in the past, and had a tendency to over share (or so you’d been told), but Matt had asked for the real answer. That meant he really wanted it, right?

Steeling yourself for the impending rejection, you confessed. “I’m originally from Connecticut. Small little town called Bridgewater, about an hour from New Haven. It’s just me and my mom, really. My dad lives in godknowswhere, Virginia with my two siblings and his girlfriend. He’s…kinda the worst, so we don’t talk much. My mom though, she’s amazing. I owe everything to her.”

Matt smiled at you, nodding encouragingly when you hesitated.

“Um, yah, so long story short, she was diagnosed with cancer when I was a kid. My dad has sort of always been a jackass but her prognosis…I don’t know, it was the last straw for him. I don’t remember much but they started arguing about money and then, he took everything. I didn’t realize it at the time, my mom is the nicest person on the planet and she would never blame my dad for her misfortune, but we lost our house, she lost her job, her assets, two of her kids—though they didn’t fight to stay like I did. The longer I lived, the more curious I became about everything and when I did some digging in high school, I found out my dad had claimed everything in the divorce. He and his attorney had argued that my mom was abusive and financially exploiting him and the judge gave him anything he asked for. I decided I wanted to be a lawyer so I could stop others from going through what my mom and I have.”

The story poured out of you, relieving a pressure you’d been carrying for as long as you remembered. Matt simply listened intently, emotions passing over his face in small flashes as you described your past. Realizing all of the bullshit you’d just dumped on him, you cringed.

“I’m sorry, that was a lot, I just…” Matt’s brow furrowed and his hand shot out to cup your elbow.

“No! No, I’m just so sorry that happened. Your dad sounds like a piece of work.” He gave a disgusted grimace and you giggled.

“He is. My mom still loves him though, bless her heart. We spend Christmas with him every year like he didn’t ruin her life.” The laugh that you have held no humor. “Anyway, that’s my backstory. What about you, trouble maker?” You leaned into the loose hold Matt kept on your arm, eager to learn more about him.

“Well, I’m from New York. Hell’s Kitchen, born and raised just like Foggy. I, uh, I never knew my mom. Was close with my dad, though. He was a boxer, taught me a lot about fighting, persistence.” Matt’s face fell slightly as he paused. Intertwining your fingers with his, your smile softened.

“He sounds like a good man.”

Matt nodded. “Yah, he uh, he was. He died when I was 9.”

Eyes widening, a hasty apology spilled out of you. “Oh Matt, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize—“ A squeeze of your hand stopped you in your tracks.

“It’s ok. I do miss him, though. After he died, I was taken in by an orphanage, raised by nuns. This is, really the first time I’ve lived without feeling like I’m being watched.” Matt chuckled awkwardly, removing his fingers from yours to push up his glasses. “Law interested me for a reason similar to yours, I suppose. My dad, uh, he was murdered. Organized crime hit. I tried to get someone, anyone really, to bring the group to justice and I…failed. Made me realize the justice system needs more devoted participants, I guess.” Taking his hand back into yours, you ran a thumb over his knuckles, allowing him to collect his thoughts before continuing the conversation.

“So you’re interested in criminal law then?” Your heart flipped happily as Matt’s starlit face lit up again.

“Honestly, I’m interested in most of it. But the more I learn about the world, the more I realize how important criminal defense is. My dad’s murder inspired this journey, but what I do with the degree, it’ll be in his memory. I’m starting to think that defense would be the best way to honor him.”

How on Earth did you manage to find the sweetest boy on campus? “That’s…beautiful Matt. Really. He must be so proud of you already.”

Matt’s lips twitched but he seemed unsure. “Maybe he should wait to see if I actually get this degree. Torts is already shaking up to be a nightmare.”

“Ugh, that’s for damn sure.” You laughed breathily, shivering as a breeze pierced your thin shirt.

Face twisting with concern, Matt ran his hand over your arm. “Are you cold? Sorry, I didn’t think it would get this chilly out.”

“Oh, it’s ok! I’m not that cold.” You assured him, relishing in the soft brushes of his calloused fingertips over your arm.

Raising a brow at you, Matt pulled off the crew neck he was wearing, handing it to you. “Humor me.”

Rolling your eyes at his demanding tone, you slipped the garment over your head. The worn gray sweatshirt was soft and comfortably warm with Matt’s body heat. It was such a pleasant relief from the frigid cement that you had to bite back a groan. Breathing in the earthy, clean scent that always followed Matt, you sighed in relief.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.” Matt grinned.

The night didn’t go on for too much longer after you spilled your guts to your new friend. At his insistence, you called Oscar and Jen to come pick you up rather than walking home.

You fell asleep easily that night and, while it would be easy to blame the late hour, the fabric of Matt’s sweatshirt wrapped around you may have had something to do with it.

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youhavetosmile · 2 months

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Chapters: 6/? Fandom: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Matt Murdock/Karen Page Characters: Matt Murdock, Karen Page, Franklin "Foggy" Nelson Additional Tags: Drabble Collection, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Getting Back Together, Avocados at Law (Marvel), Fluff and Smut, Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Engaged Karedevil, Wedding Planning Summary:

A collection of mini-scenes that I wanted to write but don't fit into a larger story.

Denial? Maybe. But I’m going to create happy, fluffy Karedevil content until Marvel takes it from me. Enjoy the new chapter!

#karedevil #karedevil fanfic #matt x karen #matt and karen #daredevil #daredevil born again #save karen page #save foggy nelson #writers please don't make me sad

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bellaxgiornata · 11 months

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Falling For the Devil [Part three: "The Time Daredevil Saved You"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're out for a few drinks with your friends at Josie's. On your walk home you're ambushed by a few men because of a story you've been digging into. Daredevil shows up to save you.

You discover Daredevil's identity in minutes because you've spent an embarrassing amount of time staring at Matt Murdock's mouth over the past year. And you also manage to bring penis-shaped whistles into the conversation.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 3.6k

a/n: Sharing part three of FFTD on tumblr! Trying to see how many I can get up today (there are a total of 74 parts currently on AO3). Find the full list of installments available on tumblr here or in my Masterlist!

“Next time why don’t we find a different bar to drink at?” Marci suggested, eyeing the bottom of her drained glass with a raised brow and narrowed eyes.

“Blasphemy!” Foggy bellowed, playfully slamming a fist onto the table.

You and Karen giggled from your seats across the table from the couple as Marci shot Foggy an exaggerated eye roll. She often managed to bring up visiting a different bar almost every other time you had all met up at Josie’s. But this place had become a weekly spot for the five of you to often gather and blow off steam from your week at work.

Except tonight Matt was unavailable, which had been happening more frequently. Foggy only ever used the excuse that Matt was busy, but you could read between the lines. Matt was most likely on a date with someone stunning and probably just as outspoken as him and vastly more confident than you would ever be. Someone who didn’t fall apart and clam up when he gave them one measly little compliment.

“Well you do realize there are other bars where you don’t have to order your drinks neat because, gasp ,” Marci said, exaggerating a dramatic expression for a moment, “the water lines aren’t filled with questionable bacteria and mold.”

“But Josie’s is where this all began ,” Foggy shot back, his tone impassioned like he usually got on a long-winded spiel. “Where Nelson and Murdock started. I mean, you and I might not be engaged if we hadn’t started this firm because we wouldn’t have worked that Tully case against you.” His focus shifted to Karen as he waved a hand at her. “And then Matt and I wouldn’t have met Karen and taken her under our wing, molding her to be the badass lawyer she is now.” Karen rolled her eyes with a smile before taking a drink from her beer as Foggy shifted to you, saying your name and continuing. “She wouldn’t be here either if Nelson, Murdock, and Page hadn’t been celebrating a win that Monday evening a year ago! And Matt wouldn’t have introduced us to yet another integral member of our friend group!”

You sent him a tight smile, happy to be considered an integral member of the friend group, but upset at being reminded that you were only Matt’s friend. And then in turn you were reminded that he was probably out fucking some gorgeous woman senseless this evening. With an internal groan you took another pull of your beer. You desperately wished to be that woman he was fucking senseless.

“So when are we planning the bachelorette for party again?” Karen asked, her attention on Marci now.

Marci absently toyed with the beautiful engagement ring on her finger, a dreamy smile on her face as the diamond sparkled in the dim light of Josie’s bar. “In two months, and you bitches better be there.”

“We’re your bridesmaids,” you reminded her. “It’s like, literally our duty to be at the bachelorette party that we’re planning.”

“With phallic shaped objects,” Karen added.

Marci giggled as Foggy only rolled his eyes, clearly wishing Matt was here so he could tune out this conversation.

“I can’t believe you found dick-shaped lipstick,” Marci said.

“You can find almost anything in the shape of a dick,” you deadpanned.

“Confetti,” Karen threw out.

“Penis-shaped gummies,” you added.

“Straws.”

“Temporary tattoos,” you listed.

“Balloons.”

“Whistles, which we actually did get,” you told Marci.

“Crowns,” Karen continued.

“Sashes,” you told her. Marci opened her mouth and you quickly cut her off. “And yes, yours has a dick on it.”

Foggy held up a hand, shaking his head and interrupting the conversation. “Okay, can we save the penis talk for when I’m not here?” he asked.

Marci pouted at him while Karen laughed at his discomfort, taking another drink. You shot Foggy an exaggerated sympathetic look.

“Feeling left out?” you asked. “Want me to get you some tit-shaped objects for your party?”

Foggy chuckled, shaking his head. “No, and don’t give Matt that idea.”

“Oh, I’m definitely giving Matt that idea now,” you teased back, eyes narrowing dangerously. "You're getting a boobie beach ball, Fog."

You’d ended up spending the next couple of hours at Josie’s with Foggy, Marci, and Karen. The night had taken a turn more towards wedding planning since Matt was not around to help bring up anything else. Foggy had looked bored out of his mind, staring at his beer when he wasn’t checking his watch for the time.

Eventually it had gotten late enough that you figured you’d need to head home. You were looking forward to that bit of pizza you had left in your fridge and to being able to sleep in tomorrow morning, so you’d said your goodbyes and headed out of Josie’s, choosing to walk the couple of blocks like you usually did. Though, Matt usually offered to walk you back home when he was out with you all since he didn’t live too far from you.

Unfortunately tonight you would be walking alone.

The night was a little chilly and you tugged your cardigan tighter around yourself, hugging your arms over your body as you made the journey back to your apartment. It was a walk that had become incredibly familiar over the last year. You’d spent almost every Friday night after meeting Matt at Josie’s throwing back at least one beer with the group before heading home. And you’d liked that your life had changed that way.

But you hated that you still thought about Matt as more than a friend. Hated that deep down you were still hoping and waiting for that phone call of him finally asking you on a date. It didn’t help that Karen and Marci shot you sympathetic looks every time someone flirted with him or gave him their number. It had happened so much this past year that you thought Foggy was even starting to notice at this point.

“Hey!” someone called out.

Your heart rate quickened, your eyes darting to where the voice had come from. There were two men standing in the nearby alley looking directly at you. And then you heard one of them call out your name and you felt fear flood your veins like ice. And then you bolted.

You were running down the sidewalk, trying to escape the two men now chasing you, but after the few beers you’d just had and the fact that you weren’t the most athletic person, you weren’t very fast or very graceful. And as you neared the corner of the street, a third man appeared and you realized they were intentionally trying to trap you. The only place to run was down the alley to your right, which clearly was a deadend. When you glanced to your left, you saw one of the men behind you making his way into the street, blocking your path in that direction now, too. You were cornered.

“Figueroa doesn’t like that you’ve been digging into him,” one of the men called out.

You winced, recognizing the name immediately. It was the story Ellison warned you not to chase a year ago. One you’d still been trying to unravel, slowly picking away at.

“He sent us to teach you a lesson,” the man from behind said.

You spun, turning and walking backwards until your back hit the building behind you. And then you were really trapped as all three men advanced on you, your heart pounding thunderously in your chest.

“Nowhere to go now,” the first man taunted.

A figure to your left stepped out of the alley just beside you and you flinched back instinctively, assuming it was another man here to hurt you. But instead he stepped in front of you, putting himself between you and the three men. And that’s when you realized it was Daredevil, complete with his red suit and horned helmet. Your eyes widened in shock; in all your time here in Hell’s Kitchen you’d never seen him before.

“And I’m about to send Figueroa a message,” Daredevil growled back. “He doesn’t touch the journalist.”

He flew forward, simultaneously attacking the three men in a barrage of fists and kicks and impressive flips. Blood was spraying through the air in conjunction with the sound of bones breaking and men screaming. Daredevil was brutal in his attack and your wide eyes were glued in shock to the way he moved so gracefully despite the violence he was perpetrating.

Nearly as quick as he’d appeared, the fight was over. The three men were unconscious on the sidewalk and Daredevil’s chest was heaving as he took a moment to recover from the fight. And then he turned, focusing on you.

“You should drop that story you’re working on for now,” he told you, his voice sounding oddly familiar. “It’s not safe for you to investigate this anymore.”

Your heart was still loudly pounding in your ears as your eyes left the sight of the unconscious men and focused on the infamous vigilante. Your eyes were scanning him over, your gaze lingering at his mouth and his jaw. They looked so very familiar…

“How do you know I’m a journalist?” you breathed out, eyes studying his face.

His jaw clenched, the muscles ticking in his cheeks. “I recognized the name they called out,” he answered quickly. “You work at The Bulletin.”

“How do you know I’m working on a story about Figueroa?” you asked him next.

He swallowed hard, head canting to the side as he studied you. And that’s when it hit you–you’d spent an embarrassing amount of time staring at that mouth, memorizing the exact shape of his plump lips because you’d so often imagined kissing them. And that jawline with that dark stubble–you’d often fought the urge to drag your fingers along it many a drunk night at Josie’s. His voice was slightly off as if he was intentionally pitching it lower, but the frame and build of his body was the same. You’d studied Matt far too closely this past year not to recognize the same way Matt canted his head to the side, too.

Your heart was racing even faster in your chest now and you saw Daredevil’s lips thin into a straight, disapproving line.

“Matt?” you asked hesitantly, voice barely above a whisper.

He blew out a sharp, surprised exhale from his mouth. “How did you–?”

Your eyes widened as you stared back at him, Daredevil’s voice shifting back to one that was so very obviously Matt’s. “Holy fucking hell–are you serious right now?”

“Your apartment,” he said firmly. “Not here.”

You stared at him in shock for a long moment, mouth gaping like a damn fish as he stood in your living room, red helmet in one hand. He’d climbed in through your fire escape shortly after you’d gotten into your apartment. Your brain was still taking a moment to process everything that had just happened.

Matt was Daredevil.

“So wait,” you began, a hand to your forehead as you tried to understand, “while we were at Josie’s discussing penis whistles just a bit ago, you were out running around as Daredevil ?”

Matt’s head tilted to the side, his dark brows creasing together as he blinked hard a few times back at you. He shook his head a moment later, his sightless gaze landing at your chest as a look of confusion and disbelief washed over his features. “You find out I’m Daredevil and yet somehow you still manage to bring up…penis whistles in the same sentence?” he asked, the corner of his lips beginning to tug upwards.

“Well I mean,” you began, mind still reeling, “poor Foggy was left to listen to bachelorette party discussions because you were out doing all of that.” You waved a hand in his general direction for emphasis. “Which, by the way, he definitely needs tit-shaped decorations for the bachelor party. I'm buying him a boob shaped beach ball." You tilted your head to the side for a moment, vaguely aware of Matt lightly laughing as you added, "Come to think of it I think there's a sash that even says 'one clit that's it' and I think he needs that, too. You can tell him I said ‘you’re welcome’ for them. He’ll get it.”

Matt was smiling now, shaking his head yet again and chuckling to himself as he stared back at you in something akin to amused awe. “You’re…you’re telling me to buy Foggy tit-shaped decorations for his bachelor party about fifteen minutes after discovering this huge secret about me?”

“Well, you’re already attractive and successful, why not be a fucking superhero ninja, too?” you blurted.

Matt burst into a laugh, a hand running through his disheveled brown hair. You groaned and collapsed onto your couch, throwing your face in your hands.

“I’ve reached the point of the evening with drinking where that filter between my brain and mouth,” you grumbled, voice muffled behind your hands, “has entirely disintegrated and that was not meant to be said aloud. I’m also going to blame that on shock from nearly being murdered a bit ago.” Your head darted up from your hands as you looked back up at Matt, who was gazing uncharacteristically fondly down at you with a soft expression on his face. You tried to ignore the way it made your heart flutter in your chest. “Which, thanks for the last minute save, by the way," you continued. "Don’t think I’d manage to take them out with second-hand embarrassment alone.”

“This is by far the most interesting way someone has discovered my secret,” he said, still very amused as he came to sit beside you on the couch.

“Wait, who the hell else knows?” you asked in shock.

“Karen and Foggy,” Matt answered. “They uh, didn’t take it quite as well as you seem to be taking it.”

"It's not like I really know much about all of this to form an opinion," you admitted. "It's shocking but also…" you shrugged a shoulder. "You could be doing worse things I suppose."

"Worse things?" he asked, brows raised. "What would you deem more upsetting than finding out I'm a vigilante?"

"I don't know," you shot back, your brain grasping for examples. "Selling drugs to children? Illegal sex trafficking? Eating dog meat?"

"Okay, well one of those is very clearly not on the same level as the others," Matt pointed out.

"You asked what I deemed worse than being a vigilante," you countered.

He laughed, his body shaking you on the couch along with him at the movement. His eyes creased at the corners as he turned his full attention on you. "And that's what you came up with?" he asked. “Eating dog meat?”

"You put me on the spot!" you shot back.

His laugh died out after a moment and then his expression turned serious. His sightless eyes studied you before he asked, "How'd you know it was me so easily?"

You swallowed hard, hands fidgeting with the stitching in your cardigan. "Not many people know about the story I've been working on. And I…recognized your, uh, mouth."

You could feel his gaze boring a hole in the side of your face and you refused to look at him. Your cheeks were aflame after that admission.

"You recognized my mouth?" he asked in surprise.

You cleared your throat awkwardly, your gaze still intentionally avoiding his. "I plead the fifth," you muttered. You heard him open his mouth, about to speak, but then you quickly cut him off. "Are you hungry?" you blurted, finally looking at him and taking in his confused expression. "Because I had every intention of coming back home and reheating some leftover pizza. You want some?"

"I–yeah," he answered slowly, brows creased together as if he was trying to keep up with what was going on. "Uh, yeah, sure."

You rose from the couch, heading to the kitchen and pulling the pizza box from the fridge. Matt was leaning against your kitchen table, watching you with a bemused look on his face as you closed the fridge door.

"I was going to toss it in the oven to heat it up," you told him. "Better than the microwave. Unless you have some sort of pizza-heating super power I am also unaware of?"

Another smile broke across his face, the lone dimple in his right cheek appearing. You always loved that dimple, it only ever showed up when he was really smiling.

"No, no pizza heating abilities," he answered softly.

"Bummer," you commented, heading to the oven and setting the temperature. You turned back towards him, resting your back along the kitchen counter as you eyed him. "So what can you do? Do you have laser eyes? Can you lift cars? Read minds?" Your eyes immediately widened at that thought. "Please tell me you don't read minds," you added quickly.

"No," he said, still smiling as he shook his head. "I don't read minds. Or have laser eyes or lift cars. I do have heightened senses though."

One of your brows rose curiously. "What's that mean?" you questioned.

"Means I can smell exactly what beer you had at Josie’s tonight," he told you, "and that you had four of them. I can also tell you had lunch at that sushi place you like." Your jaw dropped as he continued. "I can also tell you've been blushing since you said you recognized my mouth a minute ago," he continued, his mouth in question quirking up at the corner in amusement which only made you blush further. "And I can hear your heart racing. I’ve noticed it’s often racing around me."

"I'm a nervous person," you muttered awkwardly, crossing your arms over your chest. You did not want to give him the real reason he probably hears your heart racing around him frequently. "Pretty sure you knew that."

You watched as his head tilted to the side, his eyes scanning along your chest as if he was looking for something.

"What're you doing?" you asked curiously.

"I can tell if someone is lying by the sound of their heart," he answered.

One of your brows raised questioningly at him. "And you think I'm lying about being a nervous person?" you asked him suspiciously.

He shook his head, the smile on his face looking almost sad unless you were imagining it. But why would he be sad?

"No," he answered slowly. "Was just checking something. You're uh, a little harder for me to read because of the nerves. Most people's bodies react a little more predictably and it's pretty straightforward for me to understand. You've always been a little more difficult."

You sighed heavily, turning and placing the rest of the pizza from the box on your pizza pan. "Of course I'm weird even to your abilities. Why wouldn't I be?" you mumbled, opening the oven and throwing the pizza in.

Matt snorted in amusement behind you. You turned back to him at the sound, noticing him grinning back at you as you frowned.

"I tell you I hear heartbeats," Matt points out, "and you think you're the weird one?"

"Fair point," you mused. "But at least you can hide your weirdness. Mine is perpetually on display and usually scaring people away."

"Didn't scare me away," he told you gently, his tone softer than usual. “I like your weirdness.”

Matt was staring back at you with that look again. It was that tender and almost affectionate look he'd had on his face a bit ago when he had first shown up and you'd been rambling on about the boob-shaped beach balls and penis whistles and had your heart momentarily skipping in your chest.

Why was he looking at you like that?

You cleared your throat, glancing away. If you kept staring at that look on his face you might start foolishly giving yourself false hope for something more with him. And that would just be painful and stupid.

"So what, I'm supposed to drop the story on Figueroa that I've been working on for a year and let him keep trafficking women?" you questioned Matt.

Matt sighed softly at the change in topic, the sound almost too quiet to notice. And then he pulled out one of your kitchen chairs and sat down running a hand over his face. You watched him from your place against the counter.

"Drop it for now," he told you. "I'm looking into it. When I get the proof I need, you'll be the one I give the information to. You can publish it, expose him for what he's doing. It’ll help get him arrested. In the meantime I’ll just…keep an eye on your place when I’m out. Make sure he’s not sending more guys after you."

"Do you…want the notes I've gotten so far?" you asked him curiously.

"Sure," he answered. "Maybe you have something I haven't found yet."

You pushed off the counter, heading past Matt towards your room and grabbing your laptop. You brought it back to the kitchen table and opened it, turning it on. And then a thought crossed your mind and you couldn’t resist the laugh that came out of your mouth.

"What?" he asked, his sightless gaze warm as he stared at you.

"I feel like your oddball sidekick," you joked.

Another large smile broke across his face as he chuckled. You couldn't help the matching smile that spread across your face in return.

"You'd need a name," Matt teasingly pointed out. “And a costume.”

You snorted in amusement, shaking your head as you pulled up your notes on the laptop. “Pretty sure I’m embarrassing enough on my own without a Halloween costume and another ridiculous name for people to call me,” you answered.

“As I said already,” Matt replied, that fond expression returning to his face as he gazed back at you, resting an elbow on the table and his chin in his hand. “I like your weirdness.”

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x fem reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock series #daredevil x female reader #daredevil x reader #matt murdock fanfic #fftd

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eatommo · 2 years

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Wake up call [m.m.]

Cw: age gap, sexual tension, intern!reader, Matt’s a hard ass, virgin!reader, little bit of corruption kink, size kink, possessive/protective Matt, d/s elements, mental and physical collaring, one-bed trope, daddy kink.

Summary: You work for Nelson and Murdock as an intern, and you volunteer to drive Matt to an important meeting a few states over.

Authors note: Thank you for all your patience with this fic! It is my favorite one I have written so far so please reblog/like if you guys agree! (here’s the sequel! Tear You Apart)

W.C. 8.4k

Some days, working at Nelson and Murdock was really fulfilling. Other days, Mr. Murdock made you want to shove pencils into your eyeballs and twist.

He was a hard-ass to put it nicely, constantly quizzing you on terminology, hassling you about errands you already ran, and constantly having you repeat notes back as if you weren’t paying attention.

Your uncle Paul had warned you about his temper but said he was a man who carried many burdens and you felt the very least you could do was offer him grace.

There were moments he was very considerate, he would often grab you something from the bakery if he stopped on his way in, or he would walk you home after late nights or offer to pay for a cab. He never made it feel personal and it always felt out of responsibility.

Nevertheless, he was also extremely attractive. He had smug confidence that radiated off of him 24/7, and you’ve witnessed him charm women to do his bidding more than once, and each time it had made your cheeks heat and goosebumps erupt over your skin.

Then, Foggy ended up unable to drive Matt to an important arbitration for one of your wealthiest clients, and you, unable to control your mouth, volunteered to drive with Matt for the 8-hour car ride just outside of Detroit. You even had to expedite a passport to be able to cross through Canada and save a few hours.

You were not looking forward to the quizzical and judgemental nature of Mr. Murdock for the extended period. But hey at least he wouldn’t be able to judge your driving skills.

The day you dreaded of course came quicker than you could hope, you even built a playlist on your phone specifically for the long drive, trying to keep it a modest mix of music that was inoffensive and popular, you also enabled the text to speech feature so if Murdock did want to play a specific song or even a podcast he would be able to do so without your help.

You arrived at the office ahead of schedule, the car cleaned out and smelling like a piña colada, you figured fruity smells were the least offensive as you knew he had a sensitive nose. Loading the paperwork into the car, Foggy strolled up to the office just as you were carrying the last of the boxes down.

“Perfect timing Mr.Nelson, I’ve just about finished packing.” You chided playfully, it was earlier than he was typically in the office, and he had probably come in to help you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t expect you to be here so early. Because you know Matt’s either late or absent one hundred percent of the time.” He took the box from your arms and placed it in the back seat with grace. “Is Karen in yet?”

You dropped your voice a little lower than typical, “She’s inside but I don’t think Ms. Page ever left.”

“Sounds about right, come to have some coffee with us before you leave. It might be a while.” He motioned up the stairway, you nodded, smoothing your skirt out with your hands as you walked up the stairs at his heels.

Foggy was right Matt showed up over an hour after you were due to leave, and with your favorite muffin in tow, he handed it over in apology.

He must’ve fallen again, one of his eyebrows was split open in a gaping wound held together by a few butterfly stitches, and he had a nasty cut on the bridge of his nose that was also fresh.

You thought you noticed he was breathing a little shallowly, but you tried not to stare at him too long, afraid the others in the office might notice.

Foggy seemed concerned over Matt’s appearance as well, but he quickly let it pass and started running over their expectations for the arbitration.

You jot down notes in your workbook, while also having a voice-to-text app open on your phone so Matt can listen over them if he needs to.

What feels like an eternity later, Matt hugs Foggy goodbye and wishes him good luck. Foggy quickly gives you a brief hug as well, whispering a quiet, “Don’t let him get you down kid.”

You grabbed Matt’s suit from the coat rack and asked if he minded if you changed into something more comfortable. To your surprise, he laughed, “ I’m putting sweats on, so I am not one to talk.”

He went into his office to change, and you went down the hallway to change as well.

You stood in the quiet door office, picking at your fingernails to keep your eyes away from Matt’s glass pane on his door, you could see the shift of his body as he took his shirt over his head, replacing it with a dark blue hoodie.

Mentally slapping yourself on your wrist you pull your sweatshirt further down your body, making sure that it reaches below the curve on your ass in these leggings. You didn’t know how but if he thought you were dressed inappropriately he would say something. Despite you doing him a favor.

He emerged from his office, coffee cup in hand, cane tucked under his arm, and his briefcase in the other. Your gaze fell over him, he was wearing gray sweatpants.

You felt your brain malfunction, thankful that he wouldn’t be able to see your gaze settle on how the fabric clung to his form as you drank in the sight.

There would be no judging your leggings if he could be dressed in practically the most flattering piece of clothing a man could wear.

A brief image flashed through your mind, you wanted to see him hard in those pants. You could feel yourself get wet at just the intrusive thought of the sight.

You cleared your throat as quietly as you could, afraid it could come out as a squeak.

“Let’s get this show on the road, I hope you like Harry Styles Mr. Murdock.” You winked at Karen who was laughing in the kitchen and waving goodbye.

You settled into the drive rather quickly, the methodical movements of the traffic getting out of the city was almost relaxing. You didn’t get to drive very often while you were living in New York, you didn’t realize how much you missed it.

“So how’s life?” You spoke up over the low drone of the radio. You couldn’t help but want to at least settle into a comfortable silence after the typical small talk.

He snorted, “I guess you could say I’m hanging in there. Did you happen to pack any Tylenol?”

You tried not to laugh as he fumbled around the back seat looking for your bag. You tried to direct him the best you could and eventually he came across the correct bottle.

“Are you drinking drip? Or espresso?” You blurted before even getting a chance to stop yourself. Watching him from the corner of your eye swallow the pills and trying not to stare at the muscles in his neck and throat.

“Are we playing twenty questions?” He turned to you, a look of annoyance on his face.

“I’m sorry I just realized I don’t know your coffee order. I am a bit of a people pleaser so I wanted to know so I could get the right thing if I got some for you.” You felt your cheeks warm, embarrassed by your own stammering.

He took a deep breath, “I don’t really care, just as long as the coffee is good quality. The cheap stuff is hard for me to deal with.” He gestured to his face.

“Okay… so only the finest of coffee for you Mr.Murdock.” You tried to sound playful in hopes to lighten the mood.

His facade broke a little, “I’m sorry, I don’t like being away from the city,” he took a deep breath, “so what are you going to school for?”

It went on like that for the rest of the drive. You found that he was actually pretty funny, and very good at driving conversations in the direction he was looking for answers in.

You talked about your uncle, and Matt seemed to enjoy hearing a little more about Lanthom outside of the church. You did your best to try and plant seeds for further conversation at other times, hoping he would continue to talk with you.

You didn’t realize how much his voice was soothing until you unconsciously were seeking it from him.

You pulled into the modest hotel, there must’ve been a convention or something around because the lobby was packed and parking was a bitch.

You waited in line folding and unfolding the paper in your hands anxiously. Matt had brought his cane inside and with the crowd, he took your arm in his hand and stood over your shoulder.

You swallowed, god were his hands always so big? And warm? Jesus. You looked at the crinkled paper again and swore under your breath, “Mr. Murdock we’re hours late. Our check-in time was supposed to be at 4 pm.”

He gritted his teeth tilting his head in confusion. “I’m not sure we might have to find another hotel. I think I just heard someone say that they don’t have any rooms. There’s a comic convention evidently.”

You squinted at the room around you, and when you were actually paying attention: yep, definitely looks like the crowd of a comic convention. There were even people in uniforms walking around.

“I didn’t even notice, we’re almost at the desk. Maybe they held a room.” You hoped, not needing this trip to get even more complicated.

The desk attendant waved you two forward with a welcoming but forced smile. “Can I see your reservation?”

You handed the paper over, foot-tapping anxiously on the ground. She looked over the paper and immediately made a face, you swear you felt your eye twitch.

“Okay,” a few clicks of her mouse and her smile switched to one of faux sympathy, “So it looks like all our doubles are booked, and I can only offer you an upgraded single for the same price?”

“Well, is there at least a couch?” Matt’s strained voice startled you.

“The room we have available has a desk chair, a small armchair, and a queen bed.” She winced.

“I guess we have no other options, Mr. Murdock, that is fine, will you send us some extra pillows?” You ran your hands through your hair, you figured you might as well form a makeshift bed out of whatever extra pillows you could get, after all this was going on the copy card, and you could hardly expect Matt to give up the bed.

“Yes, of course, I would be happy to do that for you. Here’s a coupon for a free drink in the Billiard hall next door Sir,” Her voice dropped, almost sultry, “it's a very popular place for the staff to go after work.” She practically giggles out the invitation. Then against all practicality, she winks.

Without any sense of grace, you snorted. The two of them snapped their heads to look towards you, and you felt a little embarrassed but mostly for her small act of flagrant but wasted flirting gesture.

“Ignore her, I understand some things just come as a habit, but I hope you don’t wink at all your guests.” Matt chuckles back at the receptionist, licking his teeth.

You suppressed a shiver that ran up your back, and you felt uncharacteristically… bitter.

You rolled your shoulders back before hoisting your overnight bag over your head and nudging Matt with your arm to signal him to hold onto you somehow.

His fingers found purchase on your sweatshirt, you followed the signs leading you to the correct room. There was a braille label under the door numbers so you worried less about him getting lost, you made sure to tell him where the ice machine and the emergency exit on your floor was.

“I’m going to plug in your laptop and stuff for you and then hop into the shower if you don’t mind.” You set your bag in the corner next to the bed.

“That’s fine, I’m gonna go check out the pool hall, it shouldn't be long, but don’t wait for me just in case.” He set his briefcase on the floor next to the mini-fridge.

“Mr. Murdock please don’t go far. I won’t have time to drive all over town for you tomorrow before our meeting.” You knew that he was gonna do what he pleased, but you tried to reason with the business aspect of his brain, if it existed, after a beat, you added “I think I’d like to check out this famous staff pool hall.”

He opened his mouth as if to protest, but you had succeeded in finishing the setup for the night before he could finish his words and shut the bathroom door.

You listen to music from your phone speakers as you let the water fall down your back. The tile bit into your forehead with its rough grout and you hear the door open and close. Air is expelled from your lungs you didn’t know was there, and you let out a slightly exasperated, “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Your heart still beating out of your chest, you tried to piece together your thoughts. You had never felt so much jealousy before, and Matt had never spoken to you so much, and he never seemed to bother asking so much about you before, and he never made your heart flutter by touching your arm. All things that shouldn’t be a big deal at all. Yet you stood in the shower, with an incurable desire to know what he tasted like, what he felt like, how those fingers that squeezed your arm felt around your throat.

An ache settled in your core, and you turned the temperature down in the shower and let the cool water run down your legs until you began to shiver.

You turned the water off and almost slipped on the shower floor getting out of the tub. You glanced around and quickly realized you left your change of clothes out in the room.

You wrap yourself in a towel and open the door. Steam pours out into the much cooler bedroom, you bend down to grab your backpack when you hear Matt’s laptop slam shut.

You jump, falling over in surprise and letting out a startled gasp. “I’m so sorry I thought you’d left.” You scramble back against the wall.

“You know I can’t actually see you?” He chirps, that charming smirk on his face, you’d never seen it directed at you before. “If it wasn’t for your reaction I wouldn’t have even known you weren’t dressed.”

Your whole body feels like it’s on fire, you can’t help but stare into the red glass over his eyes. “I’m sorry, I’ve never been exposed in front of anyone like this before. You just startled me.”

He furrowed his brow and tilted his head as if thinking a little harder on your admission than you’d like. “Fair enough, I was just checking the locks. I figured we could walk to the hall together if you’re gonna come hang out. I don’t trust all these people around someone like you.”

Someone like you.

What did that mean? Did he think you were weak? Or untrustworthy?

You bit back a sarcastic comment. “Thank you, I’m wondering if they will even let me in.” You noticed he had changed out of his sweatpants, and into his suit from this morning.

His gaze never faltered from your crouched form. “I’ll get you in. Don’t worry about that.” He chuckled, a hint of wickedness in his tone.

Words couldn’t form in your brain, so you stood up with your bag and closed the bathroom door behind you.

What was wrong with you? Your skin felt warm, and you didn’t have the sense of dread being around him usually carried.

He felt like he was a completely different person, he was smiling and talking to you as if you weren’t fetching his drinks or noting his interactions with clients. In fact, it made you a little angry at yourself, now that he’s treating you like a person he has you all flustered? Shouldn’t you be mad that it took him so long?

Regardless, you couldn’t spend too much time in the bathroom. You didn’t want to cause more weird tension between the two of you. Not when you had to sleep in a room together or make the trek home.

After running a brush through your hair, brushing your teeth, and putting on jeans and a plain black v-neck. You opened the door and cautiously yet amusedly called, “Is it safe to come out now?”

He laughed again, “Yes, you’re acting like I’m out to get you.” He stood up and began rolling up his sleeves.

“Aren’t you lot always out for something?” Your bravery shocked you and you weren’t even sure where you were piloting this conversation.

“My lot? Meaning lawyers? Or my lot meaning men?” He passed the topic right back to you, and your heartbeat almost hurt in your chest.

You opened your mouth to respond but hesitated, he capitalized on the opportunity and strode a few steps until he was practically hovering over you. “Either way, the answer is yes.”

You swallow hard, emotions you couldn’t register bubbling up in your lower stomach.

He drapes his arm over your shoulder and grabs his cane from beside the door. “Lead the way.”

You smiled and shook your head in amusement, trying to hide the heat on your skin where he was touching you.

You don’t know what you were expecting from a billiards hall, but it was definitely underwhelming. The whole joint had the sickly sweet smell of cigarettes plastered to the carpet and a musky smell that could only be explained by the near rotting bar top.

Matt’s arm fell from your shoulder and his palm came to gently rest on your lower back, “Can you take me to the bar? I’ll cover your first one.” He was clearly mocking you, knowing you weren’t possibly going to try and order a drink in front of him despite the legal protection he might be able to offer you.

His finger never left your back, and part of you wished you wore a shirt that was a little smaller so that it might ride up and he’d touch your skin, the other part of you wished you had more between your skin and his.

You silently led him to the bar, steering clear of wayward pool sticks, and grumpy looking gentleman. You tapped the barstool on instinct, indicating to him wordlessly that he could sit there if he liked.

The bartender approached you, and you nudged Matt to order first, “Macallan, neat please.” He put his card on the table to start a tab, then pointed in your direction.

“Um, can I just have a Shirley temple please?” The bartender was tall and had a similar charm to Matt’s, and flashed a bemused smile as he nodded and began making the drinks.

“You write my jokes for me, you know?” He quipped as you settled into the stool next to him.

“What? I’m not allowed to order a soda?” You feigned a hurtful cry, spinning the stool to look at him some more.

He hunched over the bar, the cut on his nose looked aggravated and painful, but the smile on his face would’ve had you believe he had the most wonderful day.

“You’re like a good little catholic school girl, you order Shirley temples and squeal at the thought of being near-nude in front of a blind man.” He leered, his tone only increasing in playfulness the more things he listed, “Don’t even get me started on the ‘Mr. Murdock, Mr. Nelson, Yes sir, no sir.’ stuff.”

The bartender set the drinks in front of you, and you reached for the stem of your cherry, eager to escape from his ridicule.

“I’ve called you other things, just not to your face.” You declared, trying your best to sound a little malicious.

Matt raised an eyebrow at you, and you all but smacked your head on the bar top at your cluelessness.

“Don’t worry, it’s endearing. Just don’t let people take advantage of you.” He conceded, the tone becoming a little more serious. “But seriously, how old are you?”

“Twenty.”

“You’ve got so much time. Lots of mistakes to make, people to meet, hell a few years older than you I was itching to leave everything behind and move to Europe.” He seemed a little shocked at his admission. You didn’t press any further, mostly because you didn’t want to scare him away.

“I know, that’s what everyone keeps saying, I just feel this indescribable pressure to not make any mistakes.” There you went again, Matt had this ability to pull things from the people around him, information, stories, hell you’ve even seen him pull confessions from unwilling clients. He was just easy to talk to, and you wanted nothing but to hear him talk back, so you continued, “I’m very thankful for the opportunities that you guys have given me at the firm, and Uncle Paul has told me so much about you. I love the idea of being able to do something good for people.”

He smiled back at you in between sips of his drink. You settled into a comfortable silence as you spun your chair around to watch a couple of the pool tables and the heated competition between teams.

After about 20 minutes, the receptionist from earlier showed her face. You felt your body stiffen.

“I thought I might’ve convinced you to swing by.” She practically purred as she waved the bartender over and settled into the empty chair on the other side of Matt.

“It’s hard to turn down a free drink.” He grinned, he spoke clearly and confidently, like he was addressing a courtroom.

Your ears felt hot, and you were fighting the urge to return to the hotel room, disgusted by the way this woman was laughing and touching on Matt in front of you. It was like every time she laughed she leaned into him like she couldn’t support herself. Yuck.

You cleared your throat, and took out your wallet, shaking out a few quarters before walking over to an empty pool table and pushing the coins into the machine.

You went and grabbed a pool stick off the wall, purposely avoiding looking behind you. Out of your peripherals, you see someone approach the table as you line up your break.

You straighten, the gentleman is about six foot even, probably in his mid-thirties, and is sporting short-cropped hair and a thick full beard.

You introduce yourself and offer a hand, he offers to join you. “I’m Aaron. Are you here for the convention?” He has a wonderful smile, and while you are not exactly looking for any sort of attention he’s willing to keep up a friendly conversation.

He was in for the convention, he was working it. He owns a small cosplaying company and creates and builds costumes for a living. As fascinating and riveting as he kept the conversation, you fought the drift of your attention towards Matt and the receptionist. Her hand was now resting on his thigh.

Eventually, he seemed to catch on, “Is that your date or something?”

You snorted, heat rising to your face, “No he’s my boss, I’m here on business.”

“Gotcha, I have a room across the street, did you want to come to hang out? I’ve got some cool costumes you could try on? And the drinks are free?” He was standing less than a foot in front of you, damn he was extremely handsome, and you’d never really gotten this type of attention before. A drink or two couldn’t hurt…

“I’d love to. Let me go tell him I’m leaving.” You smile back at him, as flirtatious as you could manage.

As you approached Matt, you were once again greeted with the unquestionable anger in the back of your mind, you watched as he leaned in towards her hair to say something to her that made her giggle. A sudden pain flared in your palms as you realized they were curled into fists at your side.

“Sir, I am going to go back and hang out with this guy I just met from the convention.” You cleared your throat for his attention. “I have my phone on me so text me if you need anything.” You turn heel, intent on not letting his words stop you.

And you don’t, his hand catches yours instead, “Who? That guy you were playing pool with?” His voice is critical, “You don’t even know him.”

Your logical brain is telling you to pull away from his grasp, but you can’t find the will to care.

“Relax, he’s just going to show me some stuff from the con—“ He shushes you mid-sentence.

“Excuse me,” he mutters her name, “would you give us a moment.”

She frowns but gets up and walks towards a group of people.

“I don’t trust him, he’s trying to use you.” Matt says to you in a hushed tone, “Just trust me on this one okay? Let’s just make it back to New York and I’ll find you another useless loser to fuck.”

You felt all of the suppressed emotions bubble up inside of you and you used the newfound strength to pull away from his grasp. “Who made you my keeper? You sound like my dad.” You spit, voiced barely above an angry whisper.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You like it when I tell you what to do. In the office, in the car, in the hotel room. You’re just itching for someone to tell you how to do every little thing.” He inches closer to your face, and you can feel his breath on your lips, “I’m not gonna stop you, but don’t come crying to me when he doesn’t fuck you how you need him to.”

You reel, pulling away from him and gritting your teeth. “You don’t get to talk to me like that. I don’t know how much more of your abuse I can take Mr. Murdock.” You fumed, hoping that Aaron couldn’t hear or at least didn’t care about what was currently being said.

He sat away from you, cocking his jaw to the side in contempt, chest rising and falling harshly with each bitter breath. You took this as your signal to leave.

You meet Aaron’s gaze and he hangs out by the door waiting for you, finishing the last of his beer. You take a single deep breath and step towards the door as surely as you can.

The two of you walk towards the lights of the hotel, the cold outside air helps your body cool off, but it does nothing to clear the fuzziness in your brain or the heat between your legs.

You glance at the time on your phone, it’s just past ten, and you have to be up early even if you can’t stand to look at him you still have a job to do. When you got back to the city, you would talk to Foggy about leaving, as much as it hurt to think about.

“I have an important meeting with a client tomorrow so I can’t stay for very long…” you spoke as clearly as you could despite the ball of emotion in your throat.

You grasped for the emotions you were feeling, struggling to put them in their form. Part of you wanted to go back and apologize to Matt, part of you wanted you to let this stranger have his way with you just to see if Matt would get jealous, and the last part you could identify, it wanted to kiss him with a force you’ve never kissed anyone with before.

You snapped back into reality when you realized that you’d arrived at Aaron’s room, suddenly the heat in your body dissipated and was replaced with ice water.

“I wasn’t expecting you to stay anyway, but before we get started Are you on the pill? My wife—” he began explaining as he stepped into the door and flipped the lights on.

“Hold on. Wife? I wasn’t coming here to sleep with you.” You took a step back, fumbling over thoughts and words that make your chest ache with every syllable.

“Yeah sure. You know what, this isn’t worth my time, I’m not here looking for some holy bitch.” His hands come up and he gestured at you to back away, and before you can even really complain the door is shut in your face.

You blink a few times, you were in a small state of shock. So many events had happened in the last 45 minutes you didn’t even know how to still your hands from shaking.

You began a slow walk back towards the hotel room, and for the first time ever, you hoped that Matt would be with someone else tonight.

When you got back into the room, you changed into the pair of silk pajamas you brought, lavishing the comforting feeling on your skin. Settled into the armchair you pulled out your current read and tried to hold back the embarrassment and confusion you felt.

Tears welled, and you sniffed a few times letting your emotions circle you like sharks around a lifeboat. Matt was right, that married man wanted nothing from you other than a quick fuck, and you were dumb enough to believe he was going to be kind to you?

Your throat turns to jagged pieces of glass, and you were afraid to move or the tears perched precariously would fall until you passed out from exhaustion.

You like Matt, you like it when he’s nice to you, you like it when he’s mean to you, but only because you understand he wants you to be the person he knows you can be. He pushes your buttons, he tests your boundaries, but you feel it in the way he speaks with you, the gentle way he holds your arm when you’re assisting him, he’s not indifferent to you. He might even like you.

Your shoulders shake with laughter at the thought of him caressing your cheek, or kissing your forehead with those pretty pink lips of his. The sadness fell over you again, you would never know, even if he was attracted to you there’s no way anything could happen, he was your boss, and he was older and had different priorities…

You felt flayed, like your muscles and veins were exposed to this emotion, heartbreak you realized, for the first time it felt like the air in the room was touching the most fragile parts of your mind.

Everywhere you looked reminded you of him, the braille display for his laptop sat inches from your elbow on the desk, and his sweatshirt lay on the back of the chair you were sitting in. You could smell his skin, like coffee, brick walls, and the musky scent of his deodorant, but there was a sweeter smell, and you realized it was from the air freshener in your car.

Click

The door screeched open, and you rushed to wipe the tears off your face, half expecting to be met with Matt and the receptionist. Matt’s cane ran into the wall as he struggled to shove the door open and fold it up at the same time.

Your muscles strained as your brain willed you to stay still, “Hey Matt, I’m here. Things didn’t work out..” You let your voice trail off, hoping the conversation would die.

He snickered, grabbing his bag from in front of you, you could smell the spice-rich alcohol on his breath, “I told you so.”

You let out an agitated sigh, “I don’t want to have this conversation now. I’m just gonna make a little nest on this side of the bed and go to sleep.”

“What? No. I’m taking the floor.” He began to unbutton his shirt, kicking off his shoes at the same time.

“Sir, don’t be ridiculous, you guys paid for the room, let me and my young bones lay on the floor.”

He took his shirt off, and at first, you tried not to stare, but the deep purple bruises and the lacerations in various states of healing held your attention. “What happened to you?”

This time you stood, approaching him like one might an injured animal.

“I like to box, it keeps my brain sharp.” His head tilted toward you, practically nuzzled into your hair with how closely you examined him.

“How does a blind man box?” You ran your fingers over a heeled scar just under his peck.

“Poorly it seems.”

He shuddered under your touch, you bent down to look at a cut on his side, “I’m gonna clean this up a bit, it looks aggravated. Hopefully the other guy looked worse.”

“Didn’t see him.” Matt’s smartass comments were the least worrisome thing on your mind, “Were you crying?”.

You still, “No? Why would you think that.” You look into the red of his glasses and admire his face, fingers twitching on his chest.

“Your voice sounds different.” He states, not elaborating further. “Nevermind, it’s getting late, we should get ready for bed.”

“I'm already in my pajamas, and I’ve got some pillows on the floor. Just try not to step on me in the middle of the night.” You withdraw your hand, immediately craving the heat of his skin again.

“What if I’m stubborn enough to sleep on the floor out of spite? Then will you take the bed?” He reaches down to unbutton his pants, your skin gets hot and you force yourself to look away.

“What’s the point of the argument then? We’re adults, couldn’t we share?” Your voice breaks as more of the sentence come out, unable to stop yourself from speaking.

“Deal.”

“What?! You agreed to that but won’t agree to me taking the floor.” The air in your lungs burns, and you cough in surprise.

He raises his hands in defense, “It was you that said it not me.”

You roll your eyes, sitting on the bed in defeat for a moment, then getting up and picking up the pillows off the ground and laying them in a line down the middle of the bed.

“What are you doing?” You glance up at his voice, he’s standing with his hands at his waist and nothing but a sleek pair of briefs on. The heat between your legs is undeniable.

“Making a wall of pillows, you treat me like a child, I’m going to act like one.” You did your damndest to make your voice sound condescending, but it came out sounding more like a child.

His expression softened, “Look, I–”, you cleared your throat to cut him off. You grabbed your book from the desk and went and settled on the side of the bed that was closest to the single window.

“I can’t believe this is the first time I'm sharing a bed with someone and I can’t even stand you.” You whisper to yourself, holding your book over your face in a mixture of exhaustion and frustration.

You wished you couldn’t see him, his doe eyes had a hint of sadness that wasn’t anywhere else on his face. He settled into the bed next to you, heat pooling in your face as you realize he didn’t put anything other than his boxers on.

“What time are we getting up tomorrow? Should I set an alarm?” You lift your head to peek at him, and to your surprise, he’s facing you.

“The meeting is at 10, we could probably get there in 20 minutes or so according to Foggy, so we’ll get up around 8? Time for breakfast.” His voice is hushed, and wavering just a touch, if you hadn’t heard him speak every day for the last few months you wouldn’t have noticed.

“Are you okay? Do you need more Tylenol?” You sit up a little more, ready to get up and grab your bag.

“No it’s okay, I just don’t like being away from the city.” The cut on his nose stood in stark contrast next to the white of the pillowcase.

“Okay, I’m sorry.” You feel incredibly small next to him, the bed feels impossibly large and small at the same time.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said all those things to you.” Your gaze followed his blank stare as he propped himself up on an elbow, “I am letting… things get in the way of your experience with the firm, and I shouldn’t behave like that. I'm sorry.”

His apology was written in his posture and was evident in his tone. He was genuine. “What things? Is there something I’m doing wrong?”

“It’s nothing you’re doing consciously. I’ll leave it at that.” His voice trails off before mumbling, “You’re in my head.”

You move the pillow that separates your faces, “I love being around you, I know I probably shouldn’t, but it makes me feel…good.” Your heart is in your ears, and each breath feels like it could be your last.

He shifts slightly, moving ever closer to you. Suddenly you’re hit with the impulse to kiss him, it’s like two magnets that had pushed each other away so harshly they flipped and now they‘re pulling towards each other with the same fierceness.

You inched closer to him, electricity bouncing off your skin. You studied his face, this close to him he had a lot of tiny scars on his cheekbones, and his eyebrows had little chunks missing from them from faded scars, but he was breathtaking. His eyes fluttered shut as if they felt you look at him, and he was basking in the heat of your gaze.

“Matt?” Your voice broke into the room before you could comprehend the words you were saying, “I want you to be the one to show me.”

His shoulders lifted with a deep breath, “Show you what?” He brought his hand up the bed to rest between the two of your faces, and you looked at his scarred knuckles longingly. You wanted them to touch you, you wanted them to card through your hair, you wanted them to make you cum.

“Everything, show me what I need, tell me what to like, make me feel good.” You slowly brought a nervous hand to his cheek. To your surprise, he didn’t turn away, he lifted his head and kissed the palm of your hand, and heat flooded between your legs.

He pulls himself over your little pillow wall in a fluid motion, settling next to you but not allowing himself to touch you as his finger twitches at his side.

“Can I kiss you?” He speaks, and it’s almost as if the words release you from chains. You lean into him, gently placing your lips on his, tasting the expensive liquor on his breath.

You’re done fighting your instincts, you run a cold hand up his abdomen, dragging it slowly until you reach his neck. You pull him closer to you, shifting your body to press against him.

The thick line of his cock pressed into your thigh, you shift against it. Eager to please him but not quite knowing how.

He groans, his fingers finally allowing purchase on your hips, pulling you against him harshly.

“Are you sure you want this?” You both speak in unison, and you're touched that he is asking for your permission, despite the eagerness your body is displaying for him.

“Yes, please Mr. Murdock. As long as you’re not—” You breathe, biting at his lower lip, begging for him to continue.

“I’ve wanted you since we first met. I’ve dreamt of filling that sweet mouth of yours endlessly. There’s been moments where I’m one ‘sir’ away from pinning you to my desk and fucking that delicious cunt of yours until you can’t say anything but my name.” He’s pulling you against him in gentle movements, mimicking slow deep thrusts of his hips.

He runs his hands up your clothed torso, settling to rest gently around your throat, deepening the kiss. He shifts positions again, hovering over you, settled between your legs and his cock pressing against your drenched core. He licks into your mouth, hands falling to the buttons on your pajamas.

He pulls away groaning as he licks your saliva from his lips, you tighten a hand in his hair in response, “God you taste like those fucking cherries.”

You chuckle, body flushing in embarrassment as your chest is revealed to his skilled hands. He runs his fingers down the slope of your breast, you watch as he traces slow small circles around your nipple. You feel an undeniable sense of vulnerability, but you can’t help a low whine rising from your chest. He’s never touched you like this before, no one has, what if he didn’t like what he’s finding?

Almost as if he hears your concern, he moans, “God you’re so perfect for me.” Kissing along the edge of your jaw he brings his knees up slightly opening your legs just a tad wider. Leaning into your hair, his teeth graze the shell of your ear, “Can I taste you, sweetheart?”

You mumble a yes, unable to even think in complete sentences. He begins to trail kisses down the base of your throat, nipping and grazing at the sensitive flesh, drinking every last sound that comes out of your mouth. When he reaches the waistband of your pants, he hesitates, placing a few extra gentle kisses on your hips.

The reality of his movements settled into your core, he treated you with a tenderness you hadn’t seen in him beforehand, the part of you that longed for this was screaming. He sits up slightly, tapping your hips in a silent plea for you to lift them.

You comply. He slides the thin fabric over your legs, giving open mouth kisses to each inch of skin he reveals. With the last of your garnets removed he runs his warm hands along the outside of your thighs soothingly rubbing circles into them with his thumbs.

Your breath was ragged, and you fought the urge to close your thighs together in shame. His hands ran up the insides of your thighs, getting dangerously close to your aching pussy but he didn’t yet grant you the satisfaction of his touch.

“You’re so beautiful,” he pauses taking a deep breath, and you swear it was almost like he was tasting you with his lungs, “Use some of those names you use in private,” he sinks back down before his breath brushes over your sensitive skin, “but only if I deserve it.”

You hear a devilish smile in his voice as he slowly begins to lap at your entrance, the sensation causing your legs to twitch. Mewls and cries begin to spill out of your mouth when he starts to run his tongue in slow circles around your clit. “Dear God, Matthew, that feels so good.”

He sucks your clit into his mouth and begins flicking it harsher with his tongue. You clench around the air, hips lifting to grind onto his mouth chasing your release. He hums what sounds like a challenge, as he tightens his grip on your thighs.

“Matt- I think I’m gonna–“ he stops. Before you can protest or shove his head back into you a single finger teases your entrance.

“I think you can be more creative than that sweetheart.” The teasing edge in his voice is almost sharp, cutting through the fog in your brain.

Your thoughts fumble, scrambling for purchase, eager for his approval. “Daddy, please…” your arm covers your eyes, trying to focus on the warmth of his breath on you and not the heat of shame and embarrassment on your cheeks.

He groans in approval, slowly sinking a finger into your virgin heat. You moaned with him, shifting your hips against his hand. He smirks, sucking your clit back into his mouth after whispering, “So eager for Daddy, hm?”

You let your fingers thread through his thick auburn hair, tugging his mouth against you as you roll your pelvis against his tongue. You winced slightly as he stretched you open with a second finger, “Relax baby girl, just getting you ready for me.”

He crooks his fingers just right, building the speed slowly. Your body starts to peak, heat pooling in your stomach. Praising his skills comes naturally to you.

You've had plenty of orgasms before but this one had to be the hardest. Every muscle in your body tensed at once, it felt like your body was going to explode, and then it did. The energy that had been building inside of you came out in waves of shaking legs, curling toes, and furling fists in sheets.

You lifted your head to watch Matt’s pleased smile lift from your core, chin glistening with your slick. He comes up to rest his forehead on yours before, cupping your face and pulling you in to share your sweet taste.

Weakly, you grind your hips against him, swallowing each of his pants and moans. “Please?” you whimper, a few times in between breaths.

“Please what? Tell me what you need, sweetheart?” he sucks your lips in between his teeth, slowly pulling his cock free from his briefs.

You glance down between you, his long, thick cock teases your folds, grinding against you. “I want you inside of me please.”

He nods, sliding himself against you a few more times, coating himself in your slick. “Relax sweetheart, It might hurt for a little bit, but I’ll make you feel good I promise.”

He lets his hands settle at your hips for a moment while slowly sinking himself into you. You breathe as steadily as you can, trusting him to take care of you, and focusing on the hammering of your heart as you look at his face.

If you thought he was the most handsome man before, this was akin to being a god. His hair was tousled, sticking to his forehead with sweat, lips swollen and pink and glistening with the obscenity of your pleasure, his brows knitted together in concentration as he felt you struggle to accommodate him.

You burned. Your skin was on fire without his touch, every little pass of his hand soothed yet awakened you to feelings and rapture you were experiencing for the first time.

Part of you was afraid. You didn’t know how you would make it twenty minutes without kissing him, five minutes without touching him, or thirty seconds without hearing his raspy voice.

Your hands fall over the tops of his on your hips, and you stroke the busted knuckles as you work on relaxing your body around him. After a few moments, you shift your hips, and both of you let out soft little cries of pleasure.

He brings his lips to your forehead, placing a chaste kiss before drawing himself out and slowly guiding you back in building a slow but deep rhythm. Each thrust gradually raises in speed until he is hammering into you.

Your body is careening towards its second orgasm, still sensitive from the first, and you struggle to keep quiet. Somehow he notices, “Speak up for me sweetheart, how does daddy make you feel?”

Nonsense comes out of your mouth, mixtures of grunts and praises. He stills, clarity coming a few seconds after, your hips are lifted and placed atop a pillow. Before you can form words, he’s pounding ruthlessly into you deeper and faster than you thought possible.

“God, you’re gonna make me cum again.” he fucks the words out of you, the air practically knocked from your lungs. He smiles against your skin, before sitting up and pushing on your lower stomach with both of his hands.

“Good, cum all over me while I fill you up princess.” You have no choice, the orgasm runs over you and your vision blurs as your hips buck viciously against him.

A few moments later and he’s moaning your name as he fills your cunt. You dig your heels into his back, pulling him closer to you as he whines low under his breath.

Giggles and giddiness overcome you, and you're not sure if it's anxiety or relief or the post-sex haze you’ve heard so much about, “Can I call you Matt now?” You speak with fake authority trying to cover the concern sneaking into your thoughts.

“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” he flashes a bright smile that creases the corners of his eyes, and your heart swells, “ you can call me anything you want.”

“I’m going to be limping into that meeting tomorrow, and you have bruises all over you, they’re going to think we got jumped.” you snickered as you walked into the bathroom to clean the mess from your thighs.

“Or that we had some wild sex.”

If he wasn’t blind, you would swear he was saying it to see you blush. “Is this a thing? Or should I just let my heartbreak now?” you spoke at your reflection addressing the gnashing of your logical brain. There were bundles of small fresh bruises blooming on your hips, and an ache deep inside of you that caused your gait to be a little wonky, so you would be walking in as quite the pair tomorrow.

Matt walks into the room, and your eyes scan his figure in the mirror as he looms over you. “I have no intention of letting anyone else touch you,” his fingers run up your sides before cupping your breasts and rolling your nipples between them, “no one else can kiss you,” he lowers his mouth to your neck, goosebumps rising on your skin, “no one can even consider you again, I won’t allow it.”

He straightens, taking off his cross necklace and draping it over your quaint frame. It settles on your chest, the metal heavy and unfamiliar to you. “I want it back, but I’ll replace it with something more… permanent.”

Not more than a week later, you have a new necklace placed upon your neck. With a plain silver chain, with a single loop in the middle matching the scarlet red of his glasses, he locks the collar in place and forgets the key entirely.

#daredevil x female reader #matt murdock #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader #charlie cox #matt murdock fanfic #marvel daredevil #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock x you #daredevil x reader #one bed trope

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starkholme · 7 days

Text

"Have you got any bright ideas?" she questions.

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking..." he's rambling, the eyes focused on the crowd circling them.

"You better think of something fast, because if he turns me into a mummy, you're the first one I'm coming after." Karen declared with her voice trembling, she turned her head to look at Frank for what it could be her last time ever looking at him.

Karen Page, a librarian and aspiring Egyptologist, and Foggy Nelson, her best friend and an excellent lawyer, usually have drinks together in one of the best — according to Foggy himself — bars in town: Josie's Place. On a friday night, the two friends found themselves in the middle of a bar fight and after hiding behind one the tables, Karen is quick to realize an intricate box fell from the pocket of one of the fighters and takes it for herself before even thinking twice.

She only got a glimpse of his face, yet she remembers him too well.

When she finds the map of Hamunaptra inside the box, Karen convinces Foggy to go along with her to find the mysterious man. They find ex-military Frank Castle in a local prison and Karen makes a deal with him to lead them to the City of the Dead if she gets him released, he agrees.

It wasn't in Frank's plan go back to Hamunaptra, although a certain blonde Egyptologist makes it hard to not go back to the place he once served alongside The French Foreign Legion. So when Karen accidentally wakes up a 3000 year old mummy who begins to wreak havoc in searching for the reincarnation of his long-lost love, Frank's got no other choice than to stop the terror and save Karen in the process.

Kastle x a different version of The Mummy 1999

#kastle #kastle au #kastle prompt #the mummy 1999 AU #Karen is a mix of Evelyn and Jonathan #Frank is totally the Rick of the situation #and Foggy really need to get out that drama as soon as he can #Elektra is Ardeth Bay and Matt is by her side because I want him there too #I love Matt but he's gonna be trophy husband here #i said what i said #The Mummy is my favorite movie but I couldn't make Karen be Evelyn from the first movie when she's so Evelyn from The Mummy Returns coded #I want them in a romantic adventure setting WHY NOT #karen page #frank castle #foggy nelson #elektra natchios #matt murdock #i'm not a writer but feel free to use the prompt if you want to

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polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup · 18 days

Note

forever ago you mentioned in an ask post that you have a story in your head about college-aged Matt saving Frank’s kids and in return the Castle family forcibly enfolds him into their tribe. There is literal kidnapping involved, and every word in your little summary was fucking hilarious. I want you to know that that scenario has lived in my head rent free ever since—I am astounded by your brain and that concept makes me want to eat dirt (in the best way)(that is a compliment of the highest degree)

anyways! Please don’t think this is me asking “when will you write that” bc i get it, some plot bunnies are just bunnies, and time/real world is a bitch, BUT—if you ever have any little ramblings about it, I’d love to hear them :) the Castle family is Insane and I love them dearly and I am forever entranced by your characterizations of Matt and Frank

Have a good one!!

Christmas with the Castles my beloved. I love this one so much that I typed out an outline of the fic entirely. It is long. Please, take my ramblings if you want them:

It's Christmas at Columbia, hohoho, peace and goodwill to all mankind. The dorms are closed over winter break to replace the pipes and Matt's out on his ass for the holidays, so get fucked, blind little orphan with no surviving family, and God bless us everyone.

Normally the Nelson clan would have taken him in but Foggy's bitch of a Great Aunt Bertha insists on holding the entire family hostage for the holidays with the will as collateral, and she sucks in many respects but even more in the sense that she doesn't want any blind orphans schlepping around her holiday table. But the Nelson clan will risk it all for Matt, who they think is neat. They'll put the whole fucking will on the line, buddy.

Matt assures them that he's got it all under control and has a place to stay. Yes, with a person. Yes, a real one. An old friend of his dad's. No, he's not going to be homeless. Stop asking questions.

This is a lie.

His plan is to simply be homeless. Peace and goodwill to all mankind.

Except Foggy knows when Matt's on his bullshit and insists on speaking to the guy he's staying with, which means he needs to get Fogwell to lie for him. Except Fogwell knows when Matt's on his bullshit and won't let him off the fucking hook until he knows Matt won't be homeless for the holidays.

Matt unequivocally refuses to come home with him. Stop asking. He'll find someone else to do the phone call.

They compromise with Matt staying in the fucking boiler room of the gym. Peace and goodwill to all mankind.

Except Matt sort of makes Fogwell think that he only needs to crash for a few days, and Foggy's family is going to take him in for the rest. This is also a lie. He is fucking off to be homeless for the rest of the holiday season.

Peace and goodwill to all mankind.

He's swallowing his misgivings and putting up with staying in the boiler room of the gym for a few days so Fogwell won't freak out. Which he now regrets. Because it puts him right in the earshot of an active hostage situation. Are those kids? Those are fucking kids.

Anyway he tries to call the police anonymously like ten times but this just tips off the hostage takers, who apparently have a mole in the police, surprising no one. Now they're going to kill the fucking kids.

Matt can't listen to this.

Peace and fucking goodwill to all mankind.

Okay. Fuck. He's doing this now.

Fuck.

THE CASTLE'S HOLIDAY SEASON, THUS FAR:

The kids got kidnapped.

fuck.

that happened.

The thing is that some random NSA guy got into contact with Frank and in this AU he actually blew the whistle on the the CIA's bullshit. His family was in protective custody, until his best friend and pseudo brother stabbed him in the fucking back and sold them out. Now they have his kids.

He then kills a lot of people.

Like a lot.

But he can't find his kids. They have his kids.

They're going to kill his kids.

MATT'S NIGHT, THUS FAR:

He's an asshole in sweatpants with a t-shirt wrapped around the top part of his face and no fucking plan, and there are so many assholes with guns in there. Like. So many.

But fuck it. He's doing this now.

fuck.

He fights a lot of guys. He gets super shot. Some guy tries to shoot him with arrows. Like, what the fuck even is this, Robin Hood? Honestly, fuck this night.

Anyway, he saves the kids. Wheee.

It's sort of nice? They bond, when the crying stops. The kids like him a lot. He calls their parents. Sets up a place for them to get picked up. The boy gives him the sweatshirt he's wearing under his jacket, which is kind of him, because it's fuck-off cold and Matt's about ten minutes from going into shock. Anyway, he drops them off at the spot and fucks off into the night before their oddly bloodstained dad can stop him like the world's shittiest off-brand batman.

He then goes to exercise the right of any God-fearing American citizen, which is to bleed out in the basement of his childhood church.

Fogwell's never gonna be okay again if he finds Matt's blood-soaked body in the gym. Matt figures he can just break into that basement no one uses, steal a med kit, make a solid confession about breaking into and stealing from a church if he lives long enough, and hopefully no one will even notice he was there.

This does not pan out.

A really angry nun finds him and narcs him out to Father Lanthom and they bitch him out for "dying" and "not seeking life-saving medical attention" and drag his ass to to the hospital.

NOW THE CASTLE FAMILY, REUNITED AT LAST:

The kids' will be in therapy forever but the danger is gone, because frank killed them all very dead.

He then received a presidential pardon for All The Murder.

Peace and goodwill to all mankind.

Anyway he's testified about the CIA corruption, the government is occupying itself with the coverup to end all coverups, and his only remaining concerns is (1) taking care of his family and (2) making sure the bleeding dipshit who saved his kids lives doesn't die in the streets. He's gotta find that dumb asshole.

Then he gets a phone call from a very concerned nurse at Metro General about the bleeding dipshit that got brought in with his kid's sweatshirt. They're calling because he keeps trying to goddamn leave while very fucking shot and he had a jacket with Frankie's information written on it in magic marker. Do they know him? Can they please come pick him up? They think he's going to die in the streets if someone does not pick him up.

And Yeah. Yeah, Frank Can Do That.

Matt.

Yeah.

The magic marker, he didn't.

Didn't

Didn't see that part.

Fuck.

Anyway, Matt's On His Way Out To Be Homeless For The Holiday Season, Peace And Goodwill To All Mankind, As Soon As The Goddamn Nurses Stop Hiding The Leave Against Medical Advice Forms. He lied and said he got jumped by a lot of guys, no, he didn't see who did it, because, you know. Blind. Just a regular ol' blind guy here. Poor fucking blind orphan alone and shot for the holiday season. Just give him the goddamn form.

And then that fucking guy shows up in his hospital room. The suspiciously bloody father of the kids he just got shot over. He's here, he's insisting that Matt's one of his family's closest friends and they're paying all of Matt's medical bills, and he's not commenting on the blind bit, but Matt can literally smell his curiosity. Matt's insisting that some random guy gave him the jacket, no, he didn't see his face, because, you know. Blind. He's not the guy Frank thinks he is. Nope. Please fuck off now.

They do not fuck off. Maria Castle blows through the hospital room like a hurricane, hugs him very genuinely, cries a little, and tells him that the Castle family pays their debts, and they've never had a greater one. Then the kids show up, and they fucking recognize him. Fuck.

Matt: imindanger.exe

Matt keeps feigning ignorance. Then, he waits until they leave the room and he fucking books it.

Anyway the Castle family minivan catches up to him when he's legging it a block away. They keep pace with him, and ask to just take him where he's going, and they swear they're not going to hurt him. They just want to help him out. He saved their kids.

And he can hear that they're telling the truth.

And it's so goddamn cold.

And he can hear his own internal bleeding.

And he's so, so tired.

So he tells them that no one would ever believe them. And he gets in the car. and he gives them Fogwell's address. And he tells himself he'll crash there for a day or two and fuck off to be homeless in the streets, peace and good-fucking-will to all mankind.

WHAT THE CASTLE FAMILY DID NOT SCHEDULE FOR THE DAY:

A kidnapping.

WHAT THE CASTLE FAMILY DOES:

It's. It's a kidnapping. They do a kidnapping.

Look. Look. they pay their debts. They pay their fucking debts. It's what they do. And they get to Fogwell's boiler room and rapidly fucking realize that the guy who they owe their everything to is a terminally stupid 20-something and living in the rundown boiler room of an empty gym. And they simply cannot have that.

Frank? Frank, show Matthew back to the car, will he? Maria's going to pack up his things for him.

Matt: what.exe

WHAT MATT DID NOT SCHEDULE FOR THE DAY:

it's.

It's the kidnapping.

it's that.

This fic is fundamentally founded in my premise that the entire Castle family is simply fucking insane. They're just all like that. Frank is not an outlier.

For the Castles, they're being perfectly reasonable. It's obvious that no one's taking care of this lovely young man who saved their kids, so no one will mind if they do it instead. He definitely needs it. So they sit their kids down and explain that sometimes Stockholm Syndrome is for someone's own good, which sounds perfectly reasonable to them. They then proceed to treat this like when you somewhat impulsively get a sick puppy from a Home Depot parking lot, and, well, he's a bit poorly behaved, and he keeps trying to run away, but the kids had wanted it so badly and eventually he's going to settle into his new home and then maybe you can stick felt reindeer antlers on him for the Christmas card, so you keep shoving his meds in peanut butter and forcing them down his throat and keeping the door blocked so the puppy can't slip out into the freezing new york night.

Matt treats this for what it is, which is a fucking kidnapping.

He is now fucking handcuffed to these crazy assholes' guest bed in their suburban home. It's by definition a kidnapping. they're acting like he's the unreasonable one for pointing this out. Except every time he wriggles out of his handcuffs, Frank just lugs his ass back to bed and chains him back up while they scold him. As if he's the unreasonable one for trying to escape his own kidnapping. They make him take his meds and eat three meals a day and the kids watch fucking Christmas movies with him while narrating the screen, as if this wasn't a kidnapping. This is insane. They're all insane.

Which is what he eventually tells them, out loud and to their faces.

And then Maria cries.

Stop.

Stop that.

That thing she's doing with her face. Stop that thing.

And Maria's like. Maybe they were over enthusiastic. But, being a mother, she just wants to take care of the nice young man who saved her little angels. And if that makes her a criminal, then she guesses she's a criminal. Because she cares.

Matt: shoving me into a van and handcuffing me to a bed against my will makes you by definition a criminal

maria: *cries harder*

Matt: stop

And Matt's like. Fine. Fine. He'll give into their crazy fucking kidnapping. Saves him the trouble of being homeless. Just. It's only until Christmas, and then he's gone.

maria, tearfully: and new years too?

Matt: don't push your luck

So fuck it. He's doing this now. But he's not going to like it. And he gets to come and go when he wants.

Frank: no.

matt: seriously fuck you

Except Matt's got shit they didn't pack at Fogwells. Shit they didn't realize belonged to him. His dad's shit. And he's absolutely desperate to get his dad's shit before some well-meaning janitor tosses it. So he very reluctantly agrees to let Frank go in his stead. Just. Just don't talk to people. And don't tell anyone he kidnapped matt. matt does not want to deal with that fucking court case.

Fogwell, immediately catching Frank gathering Matt's stuff for him, when he finds out that Matt sent him: are you a Nelson?

Frank, not a Nelson: Guilty.

And Fogs is just. Thrilled. So fucking thrilled that Matt has the Nelsons. Matt needs people like that, you know? People that'll welcome him home.

He's a good kid. And he hasn't had a home in a good long time. And Fogs--he's so fucking sorry that he couldn't give Matt that. And he. He.

Just tell him Merry Christmas from him? He understands why Matt didn't want to spend it with him.

Just tell him ol' Fogs was thinking of him. Tell him he really, really cares and hopes his holidays are good.

Fuck. Tell him he loves him. Just. Just tell him that. Fogs should have done it a long time ago.

What follows from there is a lot of wholesome, family-friendly Christmas activities, like:

making gingerbread houses

ice-skating

having a total mental breakdown when you get the message passed along from your pseudo-grandfather that he wishes he could have given him a home.

drinking cocoa

getting shit-faced drunk out on the town with the somewhat insane mother of those kids you saved, only to both be lugged home by a very exasperated Frank Castle.

watching Christmas movies

Visiting the grave of your dead father whose loss you've never recovered from

drinking eggnog

Confessing about your superpowers to the crazy fuckers who may or may not have given you stockholm syndrome, as well as your lasting trauma around the fact that you were child-soldierified and your soul-crushing terror that it will happen again

Making paper snowflakes

(Matt may not have meant to do all those things.)

I really like having backstories in communication with each other across my fics taking place in the same fandom? And Fogs is a great example of that. He tends to show up in all of my Daredevil fics, and he usually does something that brings Matt in from the cold in his backstory.

But in this world, that Fogs didn't do it.

In this one, he had the chance, and he failed.

Matt came to him. He ran away from the foster care system when he was a teen, and he went to Fogs as a desperate, last ditch effort. He begged Fogs to still love him the way he did when he was a kid. He begged Fogs to take him in the way he once took in Jack Murdock. He'd help Fogs around the gym. He'd do anything Fogs asked. He just wants to go home.

All he's wanted for years was to just go home.

And Fogs hugged him. He held him. He let him sleep on the couch.

And he called the police.

He wanted to do it the right away around, this time. He didn't want Matt to be hiding from the system for the rest of his youth the way his daddy once did. He wanted him to still get to go to school. He wanted him to be a kid. He wanted to adopt him proper, and didn't think of the fact that no one was gonna let him do it.

And he didn't account for how Matt would never trust him again.

He didn't account for Matt ending up on the streets, and he didn't account for matt refusing to come for him for help again, and he didn't account for Matt refusing to have anything to do with him until he hit law school and barely tolerated hanging around the gym at night again, and he didn't account for Matt not being able to stand the idea of spending the holidays with him.

There's a lot Fogs won't ever forgive himself for.

Anyway, Matt's stockholm syndrome was a great success. They fucking did it. They now have a crazy motherfucker with superpowers who's occupying this space as a the kid's new pseudo uncle. Unmitigated success. God, what an addition to the family. He's just as crazy as them.

Except Matt gets a call. From a very upset Foggy Nelson. Who says that they decided to burn the defunct bridge that was their relationship with their torrid bitch of a great aunt after she said something homophobic to Foggy's sister, and they went to go surprise Matt for the holidays, only to find out that he was already supposed to be with them. Matthew.

The thing is, foggy knows who Matt is as a person. He knows who Matt is as a person. There is such a very real chance that his blind best friend has been living under an overpass in subzero weather for the past few weeks and not telling him. He's having a heart attack and needs to come pick him up immediately before Matt starts selling his body or something.

And like, good news is that Matt was kidnapped by a lovely suburban family who have been keeping him warm and fed and dry, and they're going to be baking gingerbread today. The bad news is that Matt will literally have a heart attack if he has to explain to foggy how he got here so he just. Panics.

And hangs up the phone.

And matts panicking about how he hung up the phone, because foggy will absolutely call the police and report him as a missing person, holy shit will he call the police on him, Matt was literally kidnapped but he likes his kidnappers now and doesn't want them to be arrested, they're making gingerbread you see and that would be inconvenient to the gingerbread making. So Maria and Frank and the kids are watching this weird feral law student they forcibly adopted go through every single stage of grief in a two minute span, wonder how he made it through life so far on his own, and Maria wrangles the phone from him and calls Foggy back and politely tells him that this is Maria Castle, matts basically a part of their family and has been staying with them through the holidays, they've heard so much about foggy, won't he come visit? How about tomorrow at two? They're making gingerbread today.

Matt: MARIA

Matt is panicking. Foggy knows he doesn't have a family. Foggy is his family. Foggy has unlocked his tragic backstory. Foggy is going to wonder how he acquired a family in like a two and a half week span.

Foggy is panicking. He knows Matt doesn't have a family. He has unlocked matts tragic backstory. Matt was in their fucking Christmas cards because he has no family's Christmas cards to be in.

Maria is not panicking. They're taking a step back and making gingerbread now. Take deep breaths, Matthew.

FOGGY NELSON'S THEORIES ABOUT WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON WITH HIS BEST FRIEND (ABRIDGED):

Matt has started a polycule with a suburban couple and is raising their children with them now.

Matt was switched at birth and that's his newly discovered real family and he just never told Foggy.

Matt has been kidnapped by a family in the suburbs and they've enslaved him to make gingerbread with their children.

Which is true, weirdly enough.

Matt is having a spiraling panic attack because while he's like, not on deaths door anymore, he's still healing and clearly beat to shit and foggys going to think the castles did it and freak out and he doesn't have a lie for this prepped. And the castles are like "okay okay but, quick point, you've even prattling on about this kid for like, a minimum of four hours per day, you are more likely than not in love with him, have you considered the truth"

And Matt doesn't know what to do with that, is the thing.

Foggy comes by. He is four hours early. He arrived immediately after he got the address. Maria is lovely and kind and welcoming. Frank pumps his arm firmly and is built like a brickshit house and sort of intimidating.

Matt is absolutely beat to shit.

Foggy: AHAHAHA HEY BUDDY IMMA GIVE YOU A HUG BECAUSE I MISSED YOU AND LOVE YOU SO MUCH IN THIS THE SEASON OF GOODWILL AMONG MEN. did they do this to you cough twice for yes

Matt: oh for the love of god.

And the problem is. For a family that commits felonies. They're weirdly open about that fact.

Foggy: how did Matt end up staying with you

Lisa: oh we gave him Stockholm syndrome after kidnapping him

matt: ahahaha kids say the darndest things

Frankie: no really dad kept having to drag him off the windowsill when he tried to climb out and we had to be extra welcoming to him so he'd stop trying to escape

Matt: AHAHAHA KIDS SAY THE DARNDEST THINGS

Foggy told his cop friend Brett to be on standby before he came here and now he's rapidly wondering if he needs to actualize that.

There's a good deal bit more after that, but this is getting long. There's emotional honesty. There's homosexuality. There's confessions about superpowers that Matt may or may not have. There's discussing trauma.

There's the fucking shadow government showing up to recruit Matt.

The thing is that Frank Castle is one of the best military operatives, like. Ever. And SHIELD was interested in recruiting that. And they thought, hey, saving his kids may do that. And they sent Hawkeye to infiltrate the mercenaries that had taken them.

Except they were fuck-off guns there and while he could take them all out if it was just him, he'd have to be 90% crazier of motherfucker than he actually is to try that shit with two kids in the line of fire.

And then an absolutely crazy motherfucker showed up and did exactly that. Caught his arrow mid-backflip. Kicked his ass too. It was sort of sick as hell. He hasn't met anyone so good at hand to hand since black widow.

They couldn't not recruit that guy.

And like. They found him. They found him really easily. The castle family kidnapped him. It was kind of obvious.

So Clint and Coulson roll up with the recruitment pitch and Clints like "hey, haha, I'm Clint, you stabbed me, wow you're like, completely insane, I mean that literally and in a figurative impressiveness sense, want to be best friends" and matts a fucking centimeter from launching himself out the window and starting a new life in Mexico.

And coulson's good at what he does. He can tell that matts not at all buying what he's selling, is more than a little freaked out at the idea of being identified as enhanced, and is almost definitely a former child soldier if their background was accurate about who took him from his orphanage for a few months. He also knows that Matt's abilities are too unique and too useful to just walk away from them. Nothing can be hidden from him. And if a fucking nuke is missing and they need someone to sniff it out, they need to be able to set Matt loose on a city for it. So he makes the pitch of "what if I keep you out of all databases, tell no one your name, and have you as a strictly as needed member of the roster," to which Matt replies with something along the line of "you can go and get fucked with you fascist shadow agency bullshit, you fucking totalitarian nightmare freaks, you try and drag me off to your freak show org to be a fucking dog on a leash for your illegal agency and I'll bite your goddamn face off, the world would have to end for me to come within a hundred godforsaken feet of you," which is… a coarse but technically affirmative answer that Coulson takes to mean as "Yes, if the world is ending, I will come to your agency." He honestly tells him that he'll keep matts secret and leaves. And Matt is still considering the Mexico plan but decides that he has a family to keep him here now in foggy and the castles and decides to risk staying. And that's that.

Which leads into my semi-crack fic of Matt being in the original Avengers, which I won't subject you to here. but some highlights:

Matt misses the first day of world-saving because he took off the second the SHIELD guy came by to pick him up. He managed to hide for 27 consecutive hours before they dragged his ass to the helicarrier.

He wasn't briefed at all because they ask him if he read the files they gave him and he just tosses them on the table and asks "does this look like fucking Braille to you." He repeatedly threatens to sue them for a lack of ada compliance.

He keeps getting stuck in rooms because this nightmare space ship only uses screens for everything, including door handles.

The hulk: *is the hulk*

Matt, has a stick: WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THAT

Tony: in a few minutes I'll know every secret SHIELD has ever had

Matt, has listened to at least eight top secret HYDRA meetings since being locked into this fucking hell ship: MHMM

They save the day, he's in a mask, the press asks them all whats next for the avengers and he's like "well I have a day job, I'm going home" and just. Walks away.

Three weeks later he starts fighting crime of his own volition and whenever anyone mentions hey is it maybe that avenger fellow he replies to the official inquiries with "oh no you see I have a day job" which should not work but does

Of course, Matt learning about HYDRA leads into my other semi-crack fic involving Matt simply immediately telling Captain America about the fucking Nazi's, and Cap rediscovering his life's passion, which is punching some fucking Nazi's. Except, he really needs Matt to spy on HYDRA for this to work, and Matt's identity is still almost entirely secret even within SHIELD and he doesn't want to endanger that. So they embark on introducing everyone to Matt Murdock, his totally normal, blind attorney boyfriend who is not at all a superpowered ultimate spy who happens to be secretly a very reluctant Avenger. It is now a fake dating AU.

#daredevil #christmas with the castles

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