beyondspaceandstars

[beyondspaceandstars]

Date Night

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: slight frustration but mainly fluff Summary: Nothing seemed to go right with your date night plans... A/N: This is an older one shot (from 2020, omg) that I published on ao3 but never on here! (At least, I hope I didn't! I can't find it if I did, haha) so I edited it a bit and decided to release it into the wild here. it's really short and simple but I think it's sweet :)

You wanted one nice night in with your fiancé. Just one. A simple dinner with a fresh, home-cooked meal, couple glasses of wine, some shitty romantic comedy, all follow by bedtime at 10 p.m. It was all you wanted. It should've been so simple.

But your dream was crumbling to pieces as the minutes, the seconds, went on. 

It started with Bucky calling to say he was running a bit late and wouldn’t be home until later than expected. You wanted to scream and remind him that you’d had this date night planned for weeks but you, luckily, kept your cool and just asked him to come home safely. This was just one little fluke, you could manage that.

So, you started the meal later than you had originally planned. You just really wanted everything to be ready and on the table for when Bucky got home. He deserved that and it should be manageable, right? You could still have a nice dinner together but the movie might have to be skipped.

Everything seemed to be going swimmingly until you got to cooking the main entree: steak. You hadn’t always been the best at cooking much above pasta but hours of watching cooking shows and a couple of YouTube videos gave you just a little bit of confidence... But confidence doesn't always equal skill and next thing you knew, the steaks were burnt. Completely charred and horrendously burnt. Smoke filled the kitchen and the smell was overwhelming. Both pieces of meat were well past saving and it made you wanna rip out your hair. You didn’t even know how it got to this point. The mashed potatoes needed your attention for one second and it all went to hell. 

The only thing you could successfully salvage were the side dishes which consisted of a salad and mashed potatoes. But even those had turned out slightly wrong. Your salad was somehow bitter and the mashed potatoes were runny. Although, yes, they were both edible… But it just wasn’t right. 

Nothing was right.

You groaned as you tried fanning out the smoke from the kitchen, praying the smoke alarm wouldn’t go off. It was literally the last thing you needed on top of how everything else was going tonight. 

You threw the burnt steaks into the trash and filled the greasy, darkened pan with hot water for it to soak in the sink. Scrubbing that was just gonna be the perfect ending, you thought as you ran your hands down your face in frustration. 

You scourged through your pantry, praying you had something to replace the meal as quick as possible when you heard the front door open and shut. You stood at the pantry, staring angrily at your dry goods. You felt a presence creep up behind you and your eyes began to water. You didn’t want to turn around.

"Doll?" Bucky muttered, confusion evident in his voice. 

"Hi, honey," You replied, trying to fight back any tears. "How was the mission?"

"Um, fine." He said. "Are you okay, sweetheart?"

You sighed and closed the pantry door. You turned to face him, folding your arms around yourself in the process, trying to find some comfort. You couldn't help but feel a bit ashamed. A night you had been looking forward to seemed completely ridiculous now. You bit your lip, still trying to fight back the tears as best as you could but it was turning out to be useless.

Bucky’s eyes filled with concern when he saw the state you were in. He reached out and caressed your cheek. The metal of his hand contrasted pleasantly with your warmth. It was a familiar comfort you leaned into. He fully welcomed you in and wrapped his arms firmly around your shoulders. You buried your face into his chest as you wept.

Bucky was silent as you let your emotions finally run through you. He learned that was the best way for you to eventually calm down so he never seemed to mind just holding you when you were upset — so long as it made you feel better.

When you seemed to be slightly settling down, he broke the silence. "Can you tell me what’s wrong?"

You pulled yourself out of his grasp and let your eyes meet his. "I ruined date night."

Your fiancé’s expression morphed into shock. Without saying anything, you knew he completely forgot about the date night. You didn’t know whether to be relieved or upset.

"Date night… Oh, crap, I..."

"Don’t even worry about it," You sighed and walked over to sit at the kitchen island. The area still reeked of burnt meat which just made you wish you were in bed and finished with the day. 

"No, honey, I didn’t mean to I just got caught up-," Bucky fumbled over his words as he raced to follow you. 

"Seriously, can we forget about it?" You pleaded as tears threatened to come back. "I ruined it all anyways."

Bucky sighed. "What do you mean?"

You sniffled as you averted your eyes to the counter top. You traced the marble pattern as you spoke, "I burnt the steaks. Like completely black, charcoal, killed-the-cow-again burnt. Then the mashed potatoes were too creamy and the salad turned out bitter, however the hell that can happen-,"

"Doll…" Bucky cut you off when he saw you begin to ramble. You looked up at him, actually thankful that he cut you off this one time. You could take a breath.

"I just wanted to make a nice meal for you. Like a real meal. Meat, potatoes, the whole nine-yards," you explained. "But I couldn’t do it. I couldn't do something so simple. Are you sure you wanna marry me?"

He let out a low laugh at your question. "Honey, I’d still wanna marry you even if the only thing you could make was cereal."

You sniffled but managed a smile, feeling a bit better at his stance on the situation. He didn't appear to be upset and you were so grateful for that.

"Look," Bucky began, "how about we reschedule date night? I’ll mark it on every calendar and we’ll cook together, okay? Does that sound better? It'll be a real date."

Your heart warmed at the suggestion. You reached out and took his hands in yours. He gladly accepted the gesture as his eyes wandered over you, looking for some sign of approval. 

"That sounds perfect," you replied, your voice getting caught in your throat. Tears were making a comeback but this time, it was happy crying. Your whole body warmed with love for your fiancé and you couldn’t get enough.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky fic #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes oneshot #marvel fic #marvel one shot #marvel fanfiction #mcu fic #writing*

[beyondspaceandstars]

BABY SAID - MATT MURDOCK

Pairing: matt x reader

Word Count: 1,976

Summary (request): Hey, may I make a Matt x Reader request. Foggy wants to meet Matt's new girlfriend. Foggy and Karen are supposed to meet you at Josie's. (You and Matt have a little plan to annoy Foggy.) You arrive later than the others and walk past the trio, foggy notices you and flirts with you. The idea came to me with the quote // Matt Murdock : How would I even know she's a beautiful woman? Foggy Nelson : I don't know. It's kinda spooky, actually. But if there's a stunning woman with questionable character in the room, Matt Murdock's gonna find her, and Foggy Nelson is gonna suffer.

“Are you sure?” You asked from the car, phone to your ear as you leaned on your steering wheel. “What if they hate me?”

“They won’t hate you.” He laughed. “I’ll make sure they know it was my idea.”

“Yeah, what a great first impression. I look like that girl and you look like a two timer.. You really think they’ll believe you’re a cheater?”

“It’s not gonna be like that.” He laughed again. “I haven’t told them we’re together together. They think it’s just one dates here and there.”

“And you’re positive they’ll think it’s funny?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Probably? Matt!” You whined.

“Sweetheart, I promise, it’ll be okay.”

“Fine.” You huffed and turned the key to shut off the car. “I’ll be in in a minute.”

You dropped your phone to your lap and pulled down your visor to check yourself in the mirror. You seemed put together enough. Hair looked good, makeup fresh. You sighed and slammed the visor up before grabbing your purse and exiting your vehicle. You chirped the alarm and dropped the keys in your purse as you headed into Josie’s.

You scanned the place and found Matt with who you assumed were his friends back at the pool table. You were meeting Matt’s friend for the first time and he had the brilliant idea that morning to pretend that you weren’t his girlfriend. He wanted you to come up and flirt with him to get a reaction from his friends before he would tell them anything. It sounded fun enough earlier, but as you sat at the bar, your stomach twisted into tight knots.

You were absolutely terrified that his friends wouldn’t find it funny. What if they thought you were a homewrecker? What if they didn’t want anything to do with you after that? Your anxious thoughts and tapping on the bar top came to a screeching halt when someone sat next to you.

“Hey.” He said kindly. You jumped slightly and turned your head so quick you thought you’d given yourself whiplash. You recognized him as Matt’s friend, Foggy.

“Hi.” You said carefully. “Any chance you know how to get a drink in this place? Bartender hasn’t even looked this way.” You tried with a nervous smile.

“Oh, yeah!” He grinned, happy to help. “What were you looking to get?”

“Something with bourbon.” You glanced around to find Matt turned towards you with a small smirk. “Probably a double.”

“Easy.” Foggy nodded before successfully waving down the bartender and ordering for you. “I’m Foggy, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you.” You smiled kindly as your drink came out. “You seem to know your way around here.”

“Me and my buddies come here all the time.. I'd introduce you but…”

“But?” Your brows raised in interest while you dipped your drink.

“You see that guy over there?” He pointed over your shoulder and you swiveled in your seat to see him point at Matt. “That’s Matt.”

“Why the glasses?” You feigned ignorance.

“He’s blind.”

“Is that why you won’t introduce me?”

“No.” He laughed awkwardly. “No, not at all. See, he has this thing where he just knows when a beautiful woman is around.”

“Ah.” You nodded and turned back to Foggy. “And you think that’d be a problem?”

“Yeah.” He laughed with a nod. “Definitely.”

“Oh c’mon.” You tried with a mischievous smile, the knots in your stomach now loosening due to the liquor. “I think it’d be fun.”

Foggy sighed slightly and ran a hand over his face. You pursed your lips slightly and gave a small lift to your brows to make your eyes a little bigger to silently plead for Foggy to let you. His head dropped as he muttered to himself before he excused himself with the promise of returning.

“This just got interesting.” You mumbled into your glass as you watched Foggy talk to Matt and Karen. He gestured over to you and you sent a small wave in return. When the conversation dragged on, you grabbed your drink and headed over to join them which caused them to aggressively shush each other.

“Please.” You smiled. “Don’t stop on my account.”

“Hi. I’m Karen.” Karen smiled and offered you a hand from the other side of the pool table.

“Nice to meet you.” You grinned and shook her hand. “How do you know these guys?”

“We work together.”

“Cool. What do they do?”

“Lawyers.” Matt spoke up and the smoothness of his voice made your stomach flip. “We actually have our own firm, Nelson and Murdock.”

“Oh, I think I’ve heard of you guys.” You said quickly, as if a sudden realization. “You do a lot of local work, right That’s pretty cool.”

“You think so?” Matt’s brows raised as he gave you a small smirk.

“Yeah, I always thought being a lawyer would be cool but I can’t argue without crying.” You shrugged. “Instead, I just do hobbies and be an EMT.”

“Like a paramedic?” Karen asked.

“On the way.” You nodded. “Few more courses and tests, probably about a year's worth of work, give or take.”

“That’s so cool!”

“Thanks. Are you a lawyer too?”

“Office manager.” She nodded.

“But she does some really great research and investigating.” Foggy chimed in proudly, pointing a finger at his friend. “Don’t sell yourself short, Page.”

She put her hands up in surrender and you both laughed.

“So Ms. EMT, gotta be pretty good with your hands then.” Matt teased and you pushed your tongue against your cheek to block the smile. “For dressing wounds and giving care. That kind of stuff.”

“Y’know, I’ve yet to have a complaint so I gotta be doing something right.” Your head tilted and he grinned. “And you? You a hot shot lawyer or does your friend do it better?”

Matt chuckled slightly and wagged a finger at you before turning away to get his drink from the table. You blew out a small breath of relief before leaning against the pool table, sipping your own drink again. Foggy came up beside you in the meantime.

“Sorry about him.” He said nervously and you saw Matt turn back with an offended expression. You used your free hand to cover your mouth in an effort to hide your smile. “Told you, sixth sense.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment… I think?” You joked and Foggy laughed. “It’s really okay. He seems nice.”

“That’s how it starts.” Foggy sighed. “Next thing you know, he’s smooth taking you back to his apartment.”

“I’ll be careful.” You nodded. “Are you as smooth as him?”

“Lucky for you, I taught him everything he knows.” Foggy grinned. “He’s like my padawan and I’m his Yoda.”

“Jedis.” Your brows raised in interest and Foggy laughed. “I would’ve guessed that one was a sith.” You whispered as if a secret.

“Well he’s Catholic so..”

“Ah.” You nodded. “A vanilla jedi then.”

Foggy laughed and you took a glance at Matt, who was trying to keep his smirk back while crossing his arms over his chest. You tipped your drink towards him as a toast and you saw the way his body language shifted, accepting the challenge you unintentionally laid out.

“Hey, can I steal her for a second?” Karen said, suddenly at your side. “It’s just, there’s some makeup on the collar of her shirt.”

“Oh shit. Really?” You jumped up quickly and set down your drink, tugging your shirt to try and see what she meant.

“Don’t worry, it happens to me all the time. I can help.”

“Thank you.” You sighed and let her pull you into the restroom.

You leaned into the mirror but couldn’t find anything on your shirt. You turned back to Karen in confusion but she was wringing her hands.

“Everything okay?” You asked carefully. “I get the feeling the makeup thing was just a clever excuse.”

“Yeah, no, you’re fine. You look great.” She smiled quickly.

“Thanks… So what’s wrong?”

“Well… I think Matt has a girlfriend.”

“Oh..”

“He hasn’t said anything officially but he’s been on a few dates with her and just has this look after he talks to her on the phone, y’know. Anyways, um, I just… He’s charming, sure, but…”

“Right.” You nodded. “I totally understand. I didn’t mean to overstep. I was just going off what he was doing… Thanks for telling me.”

She nodded quickly before following you back to the boys. You liked that Karen stood up for your unconfirmed relationship. It really showed you could trust her. 

“… Matt Murdock’s gonna find her. And Foggy Nelson’s gonna suffer.” Foggy ranted, not noticing you two had returned. “Besides, what about that girl you’re always calling?”

“Sounds like someone’s committed.” You announced, getting both boys’ attention. “If that’s how you talk to me, I can only imagine how you talk to your special lady friend.”

“I bet you’ll have fun with that thought.” Matt countered smoothly and you flattened your palms against the side of the pool table. His brows raised and he mimicked your stance.

“What would she have to say about that?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Okay, guys, maybe we-“ Karen tried before looking to Foggy for help while trying to pull you back.

“Dude!” Foggy urged and smacked his friend’s arm. “What are you doing?”

“I’d tone it down, Murdock.” You warned as you reached across for your drink before you straightened. “You’re not being a very good Catholic. Isn’t adultery a sin?”

“Dear God.” Matt mumbled and stood tall, backing away a few steps.

“So, Foggy.” You said when the silence got thick. “How’d you two meet?”

“We met in college. He was my roommate.” Foggy explained, patting his friend on the back. “It’s like we were soulmates.”

“Sounds like your girl’s got some competition.” You laughed. “Does she know how deep this bromance goes?”

“I’d hope so.” Foggy nodded with a small shrug. “But we won’t know till he makes a move.”

“She’s a lucky girl.” You said honestly. “With a guy like that and new friends like you two… What else could a girl want?”

“Y’know, you’re more than welcome to keep joining us.” Foggy offered.

“Yeah, I’d love to be friends.” You grinned and Matt smiled proudly.

After a little while of conversation, the boys were drinking more than you and Karen were. You laughed as Foggy stumbled to the jukebox and sent up five songs that he “just had to dance to”. He grabbed Karen’s hand, which left Matt to come and get yours.

“You like dancing?” He said quietly in your ear as he pulled you against his chest.

“With the right partner.” You answered with the same tone. “I like your friends. Karen’s a real girl’s girl and Foggy’s real nice.”

“Yeah, I think they like you too.”

“And I like how they seem to already know that you’re taken without you saying it.” You smiled and he blushed slightly.  “Are you gonna say it?”

“That you’re my girlfriend?” His brows raised and you hummed in agreement. “I’d scream it from the rooftops if you wanted me to.”

“You would not.” You giggled.

“Mhmm. And if someone asked why, I’d tell them because my baby said so.”

“Your baby?” Foggy asked loudly and his sudden appearance made you jump. “This is the girl?” He nearly yelled.

“Hi.” You waved awkwardly.

“So wait.” Karen laughed slightly. “All that flirting was on purpose?”

“Yeah… But I appreciate you pulling me aside before.” You said honestly.

“Ohmygod?” Foggy continued. “I almost flirted with your girlfriend.” He whispered loudly to Matt.

“Almost?” You questioned with a laugh.

“Here to break it to you, buddy.” Matt deadpanned before breaking into a laugh. “It’s fine. We planned for that.”

“WHAT!?” Foggy yelled and you laughed again.

You were fully confident that you had a good group around you now. 

#fic rec #matt murdock x reader

[beyondspaceandstars]

get him back!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Summary: You established that he's a bad idea. You know that. You know there's a million and one reasons to stay away from him. And you will - probably. But first, you have to get him back.

the sequel to bad idea right? Anon's 1K Celebration

you watch him or maybe you're just glaring at him. you know that he knows he’s passing you off. you also know you have no real claim to your ex boyfriend. you weren’t sure what the rules were for bed buddies.

you knew one thing for sure.

you were going to get bucky barnes back.

“you’re staring.”

your head jerks over to natasha. “what?”

she rolls her eyes and slides you a shot, “you’re staring.”

you toss back the shot with a wince as bucky grins down at the random girl he just started flirting with. it sounds like an even better idea now. you’re going to get him back. you’re just not sure how.

“i assume it’s not going well.”

you were never going to admit that to your biggest supporter, your best friend. who was also the biggest critic of your love life, or just the biggest critic of your relationship with bucky. “it’s fine.”

“i told you it was a bad idea. exes are exes for a reason.”

you really hate her 'i told you so' tone.

you already knew that. you knew that there was a logical reason he was an ex. there were actually a lot of reasons why he was an ex.

his habit of arguing with you about everything.

his temper.

his massive… ego.

did that stop you from ending up in his bed? no.

did your month long exes with benefits affair stop him from flirting with that girl across the bar when you were standing right there? also no.

he was just so much fun. and really sweet - at least most of the time. and it really is unfair how pretty he is. and when he said something wrong, he’d kiss you until you forgot your own name, let alone what he did to piss you off.

you’re torn between wanting him back in your bed or maybe setting his bed on fire.

but you’re going to get him back. one way or another.

tonight, alcohol making your head swim with bad ideas. you’ll start by making him jealous. two could play at that game. and you could play it so much better than he could.

you leave natasha without another word and you sidle up to the booth your friends occupied, slinging an arm over sam’s shoulder, “hey, sam?”

he quirks an eyebrow and huffs a laugh, “yeah?”

you stroke his arm up and down, “how would you feel about pissing bucky off?”

“sounds promising.”

your smirk grows into a wicked grin. “perfect.”

“two questions.” sam stops you in your tracks. “how drunk are you? and what are the chances that i get my teeth knocked in at the end of this?”

“not that drunk. and about 50/50,” you admit, reaching out to playfully stroke his cheek, “but we’ll stop before we do anything that’ll make him mess up your pretty face.”

sam’s hand catches yours, keeping it pressed against his cheek. he teasingly grins, “has anyone told you how big of a fucking flirt you are?”

“all the time.”

he kisses the back of your hand with a sly grin, “then, let’s do it.”

you lace your fingers with sam’s, pulling him to the dance floor. not close enough to bucky that it's obvious, but just enough that there's no way he'll miss you dancing with his beloved frenemy.

you wrap your arms around sam's neck, pulling him close enough that you can feel his whiskey breath dust your face. “call me crazy, but couldn’t you just talk to him?”

“we aren’t very good at that.”

just last week, you tried that. you poured your little heart out, but just as you were about to hit send, you heard natasha’s disapproving tone echoing through your head.

the last time, the fight that led to your breakup, you told him how he hurt you and he brushed you off. yet another reason he was an ex.

did he try to make up for it? yes. were you being stubborn? also yes.

“no shit.” sam grips your waist, lowering his hand just enough to teeter out of the friendly territory. “he’s looking… this is okay, right?”

“you’re perfect, sam.”

sam snorts at you, “flirt.”

“is he still looking?”

sam presses you closer to him for another moment. “he just looked away, but he looks pissed. i’m pretty sure he’s gonna to kick my ass.”

it’s childish. you won’t try to deny it. and as twisted as it sounds, you have no reservations about breaking his heart - so long as you’re the one to stitch it up.

you press yourself into sam a little more, “he’s going to love me and hate me at the same time.”

sam loosens his grip on you, quirking an eyebrow, “so you’ll play games with each other and just pretend that sleeping with each other for the past month means nothing?”

“that shithead told you?”

“oh please," sam scoffs. "you two were so obvious. even steve figured it out.”

“the asshole didn’t tell me that you all knew,” you grumble.

“did you tell him that wanda and natasha know?”

no, you didn’t mention that little tidbit of information to him either, but sam clearly knows that so you don't bother to respond to him.

“i didn’t think so.”

sam spins you around halfway, stopping when your back is pressed against his chest. he drapes an arm around you and whispers in your ear, “and i say this will all the love and respect in the world, but you’re literally doing all this to fuck with him. it’s pretty obvious.”

“maybe i just wanted an excuse to dance with you,” you tease.

“fuck off,” he laughs, turning you back to face him. “i’m serious, though, you two could solve 90 percent of your problems if you just talked to each other.”

“or maybe i can fix him.”

“how about you start with some honesty? see where that gets you.”

you shake your head, groaning at the advice. “i love you, sam.”

“love you too. enough to risk getting the beat down of a lifetime,” he points out. "by the way, he ditched the girl. he's sulking at the bar by himself now."

“i’ll talk to him," you promise. "only so he doesn’t kill you. the rest of your advice was bullshit.”

sam playfully rolls his eyes, “of course. i’d expect nothing less from the two of you.”

"thanks for the dance, sam."

"anytime."

and with that, you part ways. you head outside into the cold night. you don’t need to look to know that he’s storming after you.

“what the hell do you think you're doing?” he demands, immediately invading your personal space.

you angrily clutch the lapels of his jacket, pulling him in towards you, “getting you back.”

Bucky Barnes Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

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#fic rec #bucky barnes x reader

[beyondspaceandstars]

The Barista

Relationship: Matt Murdock x Reader Warnings: nothing. only fluff Summary: Although the barista at the local coffee shop never seems to be able to get Matt's order right, something keeps bringing him back. A/N: enjoy this quick little fluffy thing I whipped up in the notes app of my phone <3

Masterlist

Matt winced after he took another sip of his coffee. You had added cinnamon to it this time. Cinnamon. He didn’t know how you managed to do that. His coffee was simple and, more importantly, never changed, but you—a barista at the local coffee shop—always somehow managed to get it just a little incorrect.

But, also, Matt wasn’t exactly keen on skipping his weekly coffee trips.

“What did she put in your coffee this time?” Foggy asked after having witnessed the face his friend had made.

Matt sighed. “Cinnamon.”

“Cinnamon?” Foggy laughed. “I don’t understand how that is even possible. Why do you keep going to that place?”

Matt did his best to his shrug casual, undetectable. “No reason. It’s not that big of a deal.”

Foggy gasped. “Oh my gosh.”

“What?”

“There’s a hot barista, isn’t there?”

Matt immediately started spewing out (weak) protests. “What. That’s… I— How would I—,”

But Foggy cut him off. “Don’t give me that again, Matthew. You do know. You can’t stop yourself from going to the coffee shop because you’re trying to get with a hot barista.”

“Okay,” Matt said in defeat, “maybe let’s not call her ‘hot barista.’ She’s just… She’s very kind. She makes silly coffee puns when I order. Sometimes we get to talking and… I don’t know. I like it. I like her, I think.”

“Even though she gets your coffee order wrong every single time?”

Matt blushed. “Well, I think I make her a little nervous. I may or may not have noticed some spikes in her heart rate.”

"Oh, that’s perfect," Foggy said with a laugh. "So, when are you going to ask her out?"

"I— I don’t think I can do that. That would be weird, right? Maybe she’s just being nice to me. I don’t want to be one of those customers."

"But you said her heart skips when you walk in."

"Sure, but maybe she’s just an anxious person—,"

Foggy scoffed. "Since when have you ever had this many reservations about asking someone out?"

"I don’t know," Matt admitted with a sigh. "I don't think she needs to get wrapped up in all my stuff."

"Actually it sounds like she very much wants to get wrapped up with you."

"Foggy…"

"Alright, alright, I’ll stop," he said, raising his arms in surrender. "I’m just saying, it sounds like she might be into you so I would at least think about it."

And so Matt did. He tried not to—he really did—but no matter how much he resisted it, your angelic voice and his best friend’s insisting words kept creeping up in the back of his mind. Even when he was out patrolling his city, the thoughts didn’t leave him.

In fact, it consumed Matt for an entire weekend. And he found himself back at the coffee shop bright and early Monday morning.

As Matt opened the door, he was immediately hit by your soft, sweet voice talking to another customer. You were kind and respectful as you interacted with them but Matt was quick to notice you didn’t share a coffee pun. He didn’t know why that made something in his chest warm.

When he approached the counter, he heard your heart speed up just ever so slightly, as if on perfect cue. Matt enjoyed trying to act clueless sometimes.

"Good—Good morning, Matthew," you said. "It’s good to see you again. I missed you a latte this past weekend."

Matt subtly tightened the grip on his cane. He swore you winced at your words, which he found adorable. "Good morning.” He couldn’t help but smile. "That was a good one.”

You giggled. And it nearly took his breath away.

“Thank you,” you replied. “I have to start looking up new ones. I fear I’m running out.”

Matt shook his head. “We can’t have that, can we?”

You laughed again. You were as giddy as ever around him. Maybe Foggy wasn’t completely bonkers, Matt thought.

"What can I get started for you today, Mister Lawyer?”

"Coffee. Splash of cream," Matt answered.

"Of course, of course," you muttered to yourself before waltzing around behind the counter. The sound of grinding beans and dripping coffee made Matt’s ears perk up.

"Busy day today?" You asked over the noise of the machines.

Matt shook his head. "Paperwork to do, files to review. The usual," he replied but his words felt jilted. Should he ask you? Would that be weird? Would you call the cops or something?

"Well, that’s good to hear! Your day will fly by," you said quite cheerfully. It made Matt feel really good—a particular kind of good that didn’t always come easily for him.

"It’s already off to a great start here," Matt replied, taking a little leap of faith. He swore he heard you gasp. "Um, you know, there is something I wanted to ask you."

You were now pouring coffee into a to-go cup. Matt didn’t think you had messed up anything this time but he couldn’t be sure. He was a little distracted.

"Oh, yeah?" You asked. Your voice was suddenly shaky. Your heart rate shot up. Not just a skip like before. It was pounding.

It could mean anything, really, he told himself.

"Yeah." Matt took a deep breath. "I was wondering if you’d like to grab dinner sometime. With me."

Something heavy hit the counter. "Uh, dinner? Like as a date?"

Matt chuckled. "Yes, exactly like a date."

"I’d love to." You didn’t even hesitate slightly. That made Matt feel really good.

"Great," he replied. He was sure he was keeping his composure from the outside but on the inside? He wanted to let out a sigh of relief.

You two exchanged contact information after Matt’s order was ready. He paid and you both kept it very professional, even when he noticed your hands were pretty much shaking.

The professionalism fell when he was bidding you a goodbye. You stepped around the counter to plant a kiss on his cheek and wish him a good day. It nearly took Matt aback but not in a bad way.

A permanent smile was etched onto his face for the entire morning—even when he went to take a sip of his coffee...

Vanilla. Matt could smell it, he could taste it. You had somehow added a splash of vanilla syrup to his cup of coffee. Matt laughed to himself.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fic #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock fluff #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil x reader #marvel one shot #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #mcu fluff #mcu fanfiction #mcu fic #writing*

[beyondspaceandstars]

[ RED STRINGS ]

— PAIRING : Matt Murdock x (Female)Reader

— TAGS : Fluff, and that's it.

— SUMMARY : It's very cold out. What’s a gentleman like Matt Murdock to do?

— LENGTH : 714 words

— AUTHOR'S NOTE : So I’m on a roll today?! It was cold as balls as I waited for my train to work this morning, and I couldn’t help but daydream about Matty keeping me warm 🥰

It’s freezing in Hell’s Kitchen today.

You can see your own breath as you speed walk down the street, cursing quietly when you see the bus stop is more crowded than usual—which means the bus is late, again.

Your hands are like ice as you tuck them into your pockets. What a day to discover your gloves have gone missing! And it had been so warm the day before, you weren’t expecting the sudden drastic drop in temperatures and decided to leave your scarf at home.

By the time the bus arrives, you’re chilled to the bone, grumbling under your breath as everyone pushes and shoves their way on.

One woman glares at you when your shoulders bump, and you have to fight the urge to roll your eyes so hard it makes your brain hurt.

Another passenger stands way too close for comfort while you hold onto a handlebar, clutching your purse to your chest.

Today’s driver also tends to press on the brakes a little too hard, sending you hurtling sideways with every stop.

When you finally get off at your stop, you’re beyond irritated. All you want to do is go back home and hide under your warm covers, maybe curl up with a book and a nice steaming cup of hot cocoa.

But all of that weariness seems to dissolve like snow in the sun when you hear a familiar voice calling your name. You look up and your heart stutters.

“Hi Matt,” you smile, wondering if he notices how breathless you are. Your colleague frowns, reaching out a gloved hand. You go to him like you’ve been summoned, allowing him to curl his hand around your elbow.

One of the perks of articling at Murdock, Nelson, and Page is the ability to stare openly and shamelessly—but respectfully of course. At the one and only Matthew Murdock, attorney at law with a heart of gold.

You aren’t a fan of hyperbole but, goodness, Matt is probably the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

While they can’t see, his soft brown eyes truly are the window to his soul. In them, you see every ounce of warmth, kindness, and compassion he tries to put back into the world. It only makes him even dreamier.

You are obsessed with his smile; you love the way only one corner of his mouth lifts up at first, before he slowly and deliberately breaks out into a full-blown grin.

And, god help you, the way his tailored suits cling to him like a—

Okay, so maybe your staring sometimes ventures into disrespectful territory, but nobody has to know that but you.

“Sweetheart, you’re freezing.” You hear him say, but you’re too busy watching his lips form the words to actually hear them.

“Hm?” You say dumbly.

“I could hear your teeth chattering from across the street,” Matt practically growls, tucking one end of his cane under his arm so he can run his hands up and down the lengths of yours.

“Oh, I’m fine.” You insist, but he begins unwinding his scarf from around his neck. “Matt, it’s okay! Let’s head to the office and I’ll be warm and toasty in there.”

“You live across town, have you been out here like this all morning?” It’s like he can’t hear you as he loops one end of his scarf around you. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”

He takes your arm again, the two of you walking towards the office in a comfortable silence. You’re smiling so hard that the feeling in your numb wind-stung cheeks starts to come back, the cold long forgotten.

The two of you finally reach the building, hobbling up the steps and opening the door to Matt’s modest firm. Karen and Foggy are already there, looking up when the door opens.

Karen’s eyes widen a fraction before she gives you a meaningful smile. Foggy groans, tossing a pen down onto his desk.

“Murdock, did you at least try not making a move on our articling student?” Foggy admonishes his best friend.

Your cheeks flame, looking down and finally noticing that Matt never fully removed his scarf from his own neck. It connects you two like a giant red string of fate, setting butterflies free in your stomach.

Matt, without missing a beat, just smirks, “I did try. I just wasn’t very good at it.”

#fic rec #matt murdock x reader

[beyondspaceandstars]

valentine's day with matt

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day! This is a quick little headcanon/thoughts/scenario (?) I came up with. I’ve had a strong Daredevil fixation lately. But, anyway, this is just a silly little fun thing but I hope you enjoy it. I don’t know if it’s very good but it’s festive and sweet, I think :)

also apparently there is a limit to how many characters you can use in a bullet-point list so i apologize for the atrocious formatting, i can't figure out how to get around that dumbass rule with this text editor

There is no doubt in my mind that Matt is an absolute romantic when he’s in a real, stable relationship

He doesn’t let himself into them but when he finds a person and dedicates himself fully, there’s no holding him back from worshipping his partner

Matt met you in the late spring, way past Valentine’s Day for that year, and frankly, he wasn’t sure if you’d want to stick around past the summertime

He got nervous when you two started getting serious and when he eventually let you in on his nighttime activities he was sure you would run for the hills

But you hadn’t

And the next thing you both knew… it was the season of love. Valentine’s Day. Your first Valentine’s Day together was just around the corner.

You truly didn’t expect much. Maybe a nice dinner and flowers—the expectation of flowers would even be pushing it. In your past relationships, Valentine’s Day hadn’t been anything. You’d try to get your partners to do thing, go out on dates with you, but no one ever seemed very interested in it all.

“It’s a holiday to sell things,” your last boyfriend had said to you when you’d asked him if he wanted to have a nice dinner at your favorite steakhouse. It was then that you had simply assumed men just didn’t do Valentine’s Day.

Matt, on the other hand, was stressing—seriously stressing—over February 14th.

The man would be practically making himself sick trying to plan out the day. But he was very good at hiding his stress. At least, from you. Foggy wasn’t spared from witnessing Matt’s panic.

"What about that new Italian place around the corner? Does it look nice?"

"Matt, do you think you’re maybe overthinking all of it?"

Matt would never admit if he was but…yes, he was.

You were unaware of it all and tried not to think too hard about the holiday. You had gotten Matt a small gift and were going to suggest having a night in with a nice dinner and a bottle or two of wine…

But then he caught you off guard.

You were out for lunch with him the day before Valentine’s Day. You two didn’t work too far from one another and so lunch dates (depending on your schedules, of course) had become a pretty regular part of your weekly routine.

It was about halfway through your lunchtime when, out of nowhere, completely unprompted, Matt said, "I made us reservations for tomorrow night at an Italian restaurant not too far from here."

Your jaw went slack and your heartbeat shot up. The concern that fell on Matt’s face told you he noticed.

"If… If that’s okay with you," he stammered, trying to walk back on his words. "If you don’t want to do anything for Valentine’s Day, I understand, I’m sure I can cancel—,"

"No!" Your outburst took both of you by surprise. You almost start laughing out of nervousness. "I mean, I’d love to. It sounds amazing, I was just…surprised. No guy I’ve been with has ever really wanted to do anything on Valentine’s Day."

Matt frowned. A deep, serious frown. "You’ve never gone out for Valentine’s Day?"

"Not really." You felt your cheeks go warm. "I’m very excited." Your heartbeat hadn’t settled since he mentioned dinner plans.

The next day, you were giddy. You had stayed over at Matt’s place and decided to wake up early to make him a nice breakfast. He was speechless. You two would exchange "Happy Valentine’s Day" before swapping sweet kisses and going your separate ways for the day.

You’d assume you wouldn’t hear from Matt again until dinner time but then a giant — giant — bouquet of roses was delivered to your office. You were stunned. As were your coworkers. And then the flowers made you hopelessly tear up.

It was already the best Valentine’s Day you’ve ever had and you still had dinner to look forward to.

After work, you returned to your apartment and freshened up.

You were quite nervous for some reason. It didn’t make sense. You’d been going out with Matt for almost a year. You two had been on numerous dates. Hell — you two slept together regularly. But this? Valentine’s Day dinner? This was what was making you all jittery?

It was a mix between never really knowing what to expect for Valentine’s Day and wanting everything to go perfectly.

Matt was patiently waiting for you outside the restaurant when you arrived. You saw a smirk creep its way onto his lips, no doubt sensing your presence.

"Hi, honey," you said as you approached and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "You made quite the ruckus at my office today with that garden of flowers you sent."

Matt chuckled. "Were they okay? I kind of had to trust the florist’s opinion and he could’ve scammed me for all I know."

You laughed. "They’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen."

"You clearly haven’t looked in the mirror lately."

"Matthew Murdock, you’re silly."

The restaurant he had chosen was stunning. Very fancy, very chic. A nice modern, clearly high-end, Italian restaurant. You gasped when you saw the array of artistic decor. It was just all so…romantic.

"Is it… Do you like it? Is this okay? I also had to trust Foggy for advice on this place—,"

"It’s wonderful, Matt. Everything is so wonderful."

He took your elbow and gave it a squeeze.

The hostess then escorted you two to your table, Matt continued holding onto your elbow and you had to keep yourself from laughing. No doubt he had already mapped out the place in his head.

Your table was in the back of the establishment, kind of hidden and private. You wondered if Matt had dropped some extra money to get something so intimate. You were tearing up at the thought.

"Are you okay?" Matt asked after you two took your seats.

"You make me feel so special."

Wordlessly, Matt found your hand and kissed the back of it. It was almost silly but it made your heart skip a beat. Seriously, you felt like a teenager on a first date.

You diverted your attention to the menu. You quickly realized Matt had the same one as you — a.k.a. a menu he couldn’t exactly read. It looked like Matt came to the same realization as you when he picked it up.

"Oh, should I see if they—,"

Matt shook his head. "Read it to me?" He leaned back in his seat, waiting, a little cocky or proud of himself.

You blushed. "Sure, I think I can manage that."

Dinner went by very nicely. You raved about the food and Matt looked relieved that you enjoyed it. You two even split a dessert. Matt "accidentally" got whipped cream on your cheek, which he just had to clean up himself. You teased him it was just a ploy to get close to you and he didn’t deny it.

Afterward, you two walked arm and arm back to his place. The night was peaceful and lovely and…perfect.

"I have a gift to give you later," you said, breaking the silence.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Mhm," you sighed. "Well, maybe I have a couple of gifts."

"Oh?" Matt smirked.

"I gotta thank my lovely boyfriend properly. This was the best Valentine’s Day," you admitted.

Matt stopped on the sidewalk. The streets were quiet and empty. His arm untangled from yours, his hands grinding your waist with ease. "It’s not over yet," Matt said in a hushed tone. "Besides, I might have a couple of gifts for you as well."

And then he kissed you deeply. The world around you felt like it had stopped.

"Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart."

"Happy Valentine’s Day, honey."

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock headcanon #matt murdock fic #daredevil fanfiction #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #mcu fic #mcu fanfiction #matt murdock fluff #writing* #mcu fluff

[beyondspaceandstars]

valentine's day with bucky

A/N: Happy Valentines Day! Enjoy this quick little headcanon I thought of randomly while on break at work lmao I thought it was cute and themed well :) idk it's super short, probably stupid, but i wanted to do something for today and this is all what popped in my head

Before meeting someone, Bucky probably had little to no interest in valentines day in the modern world

Back in his day, though, he’d have a plethora of valentines. Was happy to give women flowers, take them out, have dinner, the whole thing. He’d rarely be a man without a date on that special day in February.

But times had changed and for a few valentines days, the holiday would come and go without Bucky even realizing it. Sure, he’d see the displays in stores and the couples going out, but he’d shrug it off.

Until he met you and suddenly valentines day had a purpose again

During your first together, I feel that Bucky would go a little overboard with it and you’d appreciate it but kind of also not take much note of it. In your experience, guys would go all out on the first valentines day but then by the second or third or fourth (if it ever got that far was rare) the enthusiasm would slowly die down

This was absolutely not the case for Bucky. The man absolutely adored valentines day

It always started right in the morning. You’d wake up to breakfast in bed. The only thing that would change is the type of breakfast. One year it was heart-shaped pancakes and then the next it was French toast with whipped cream and pink sprinkles.

At one point you showed him those mini waffle makers that can make waffles in pretty much any shape. (You got heart-shaped waffles that year.)

The breakfast was always quite impressive because Bucky was not exactly too up-to-date on cooking in the modern age. The variety of foods still sometimes could be overwhelming but he enjoyed trying anything when in the right mood. Often, though, he stuck to the basics and you appreciated that.

With breakfast would come your first gift: flowers. Bucky found very quickly that flowers had not gone out of style (it's canon, so) and when you two first started dating, he latched onto them as a sort of "safe" gift.

You never minded and sometimes your apartment could look like a greenhouse with all the flowers Bucky was gifting you over time, but you happily accepted them on valentines day. He always got you roses on valentines day.

Bucky is also definitely the type to make plans for you two on the holiday but then ask if you would like to do anything. He knows the day is really just about spending time with one another and showering each other in love but he wants to make sure you enjoy it completely, in every aspect.

He’d be very big on taking you out for dinner. I think once he got more comfortable in the modern age he’d be all for going out for a nice fancy dinner. He might need some advice, especially from Sam, on wardrobe and hairstyles but he’d be so excited to take you out all dolled up and show you off

"Jesus, how did little ole me end up with you?" Bucky would ask after letting out an obnoxious whistle when he saw you in your underwear trying to put on mascara.

"Bucky, I look insane right now."

"Impossible, sweetheart."

Bucky would probably be someone who enjoyed watching you get ready. I think he’d be amazed by all the modern makeup and outfits available for women to wear. He’d notice every detail of your outfit. He’d easily be the most attentive partner ever

After dinner is when you and Bucky would exchange gifts

Jewelry was also another thing Bucky felt was always a safe gift and he really enjoyed seeing you wearing pieces he bought you. You hadn’t been much of a jewelry wearer before Bucky but his enthusiasm for it definitely gave you a different perspective on it

Chocolates would be another safe, little cliche gift, but Bucky would also try to get adventurous with his gift-giving. Like I said, he’s attentive, so when there’d be even something small missing in your life, he’d try to help. From sweaters (because you complained about how cold your office is) to mugs (because you broke one that one time like six months ago), Bucky was always trying to show he cared and listened and wanted you to be at your happiest with him

On the flip side, gifts for Bucky could be incredibly tough. He’d always insist he didn’t want anything but how could you not when he was throwing gifts at you every valentines day

You’d go the typical route of getting him like a watch or a sweater. You’d try, even though you didn’t know what a man who had been through what he had would enjoy. You never got the impression that Bucky cared much for his own material possessions so you had to sometimes get creative with gifts. You’d given him a mini-vacation once, some gift cards. Once you got him one of those "name a star" certificates because he couldn’t hide his little nerdy side, and he found it quite humorous that he had a star named after him.

"Maybe one day I’ll fight an alien or something in space and get to see it."

"Bucky, I don’t know if that’s funny or not because it could happen with your track record."

In general, for the overall day, he would be so lovey-dovey, much more than usual which you were surprised was possible at all

He’d drown you in kisses, affirmations, wandering hands… You were completely spoiled by him and, of course, you had no trouble returning the favor

The day was about couples after all and despite Bucky’s protests that he didn’t need anything special for himself, that he enjoyed just making sure you were happy, that your love and appreciation were all he needed, you’d still try to spoil him as well

Others would of course give you two a bit of a hard time with how much you’d go all out for valentines day but you didn’t care in the slightest. It was such a happy, blissful moment

Truly, every day with him felt like valentines day, but that one day in February felt a tiny bit special, and the shininess was not wearing off any time soon

#happy valentines day! #i have something new coming for the holiday haha

[beyondspaceandstars]

Significant

Summary: Din has been calling you riduur for months. You finally find out what it means, and get a little more than you bargained for.

Pairing: Din Djarin x gn!Reader

Word Count: ~5.1k

Warnings: pining, absolute FOOLS in love, bit of grumpy x sunshine, lil angsty, possibly incorrect lore, fluff, lots of Mando'a (translations for the Mando'a at the end)

A/N: Happy Mandalorian Eve!! This is based on a short drabble I wrote, which you can find here! It's not necessary to read it first, though of course I recommend it! The reader and Din have been traveling together for a long time, and after removing his armor in front of the reader for the first time began calling them riduur.

“Riduur.” 

It may as well be your name, the way you turn at the sound of that word. 

“Din,” you return, adjusting the child’s little sleeve which had fallen down past his hand.

“Are you ready?” He asks as he tilts his head to the side. 

You smile and turn back to Grogu. “Dad’s impatient today, isn’t he?” The child coos up at you, lifting tiny arms, ready to be picked up. “Yeah, he is.”

“I’m not impatient,” Din grumbles lowly.

You raise a brow at that and lift Grogu into your arms. “You’re always impatient, Mando.” His head jerks to the side at your assessment.

You have to bite back a laugh. In truth, he is incredibly patient. Most of the time, and especially when it came to you and Grogu. The only time you’ve seen him truly lose his temper was with the Jawas, and really, that couldn’t be helped. 

The child reaches for Din when you turn back to him, and the Mandalorian immediately holds out his arms to take him from you. You deposit the little green baby there before grabbing your shawl. “Yes, we’re ready,” you finally answer. 

The baby gets tucked into the pouch at Din’s hip, before he descends the ship’s ramp out into the desert air that awaits you. 

You roll your eyes gently. 

Not impatient, but not entirely patient either. 

You follow, wrapping the light material around your shoulders. 

It’s subtle, but he does wait for you, his pace slower than if he were alone. His right elbow ticks out a fraction, and you smile before cupping your hand there. He would never ask you to take his arm, still the offer is usually there if he can accommodate it. 

He relaxes a little when you fit your hand against his bicep. “Supplies only,” he reminds you, ever practical. 

“Supplies only,” you agree. “Unless I see something for Grogu.” 

“The child is becoming spoiled,” he complains lightly. “We won’t have enough room in the ship soon.” 

You shrug and tighten your grip on his arm. You like the way he says we. So, you return with, “That’s just because our child deserves the best.” 

Din’s spine straightens a fraction and his shoulders tilt back. 

He’s somehow both stoic and incredibly bad at hiding his emotions. You can tell, just by the slope of his shoulders or the exact angle of the helmet or the precise way he stands or walks, exactly what and how he’s feeling. 

Or, maybe you’ve just spent too much time around him. 

Maybe, you just know him too well. 

And right now, he’s swollen with pride. Though you don’t know if it's because you’ve complimented the way he takes care of the child or if it were something else. Something in the way you said our.  

It’s not long before you reach the market, and Din sighs as soon as it comes into view. It’s much larger than the ones you normally frequent, a riot of color and sound that you both know you won’t be able to resist. The town seems to be in the midst of some kind of festival. 

The smell of fried food greets you before you’ve even breached the perimeter of the town, and your mouth waters. Something better than rations awaited you there. 

Din is single minded though, and you know he’ll immediately make for the most boring of the stalls and shops. 

Supplies only, after all, is what you’d come for. 

“Mando,” you remove your hand from his arm and he immediately halts at the loss of your touch and turns to you. “I’m going to go look around.” 

He stares at you, helmet tilting down. He doesn’t like telling you no, and knows it wouldn’t matter if he did anyways. But, he worries and so it takes a moment for him to reply. “Don’t go far,” he advises. “Do you have a comlink?”

“Yes.” 

“A weapon?” 

You pretend to search your person, “Hm, what’s that again?” 

“Riduur,” he reprimands your teasing. 

That word makes the inside of your skin light up pleasantly. Riduur. If only you knew what it meant. 

You’ve started to assume it means something similar to cyare or cyar'ika. But he’d had no problem telling you what those words meant. Darling and sweetheart and beloved. He’d had no problem telling you he was calling you beloved. 

But he no longer calls you cyare or cyar'ika. Since the first time he’d called you riduur, the day he removed his armor in front of you for the first time, he’d solely begun calling you riduur. 

Even your name is becoming a rarity from his lips. 

“Udesii! Yes,” you cross your arms. “You know I took care of myself for a very long time without you and nothing ever happened. I’ll be okay.” 

Din doesn’t answer, just sighs and gives a curt nod and marches off towards a shop selling medical supplies. 

The dramatics of it all makes you giggle. You like teasing him, especially because he thinks he hides how flustered you make him well. 

Although you enjoy traveling with the Mandalorian, alone time has become a complete rarity. You were always with Din, or watching your little green menace.

You eat your way through a couple of different stalls selling food, bundling up second and third servings to keep for Din and Grogu. 

Din wouldn’t think to get anything beyond rations. Both you and the child like a little more variety, where Din treats the act of eating like a maintenance routine. 

You drift past stalls hawking trinkets and jewelry, fending off the sellers as you crunch something sweet and sour you’d picked up at the last food stall, not entirely sure what it is.  

Textiles are next, bolts of cloth you run your fingers over but mourn not being able to afford. Still, it's nice to browse, nice to feel normal. The Mandalorian isn’t hunting someone for once, and you aren’t trapped in the interior of the ship, stale recycled dry air burning your nostrils. 

A little supply stop has become a little welcome relief. It’s giving you the chance to stretch your legs, to explore. 

Still, your mind drifts back to Din, the way he calls you something he would not name to you.

You’ve searched before, in other markets, on other worlds, for the answer to your question. What does that word mean and why won’t Din tell you? 

You’d tried to convince him once or twice, with gentle words whispered in his ear, when the helmet was off and your hands were pressed against his skin, the contours of his face still a mystery to you. 

Once, you’d felt the skin of his cheeks go hot beneath your hands when you told him he used his tongue so prettily, couldn’t he use it to tell you what riduur meant? 

He’d mumbled something else in Mando’a but had not explained himself. 

You can understand most of that he says now, but because he’s the only other speaker, you have to rely on him to tell you what new words and phrases mean.

Because the Mandalorians are such an insular people, you never come across any other speakers you could ask. There are no dictionaries to Basic that you could download and peruse. 

It’s frustrating, especially since the word seems to be laden with something heavy. Din says it with reverence, with a softness that doesn't cut through the rest of his words. His voice is softer when he speaks Mando’a anyways, but that word is held with a reverence on his tongue, like it’s precious. 

The only other time you had heard him use that tone was when he once called Grogu ad’ika, which meant child. 

You’ve almost given up on knowing, resigned to that fact that you may never know and he may never tell you.

Whatever it means, you’re sure it's important. You just don’t know why.

The market is loud, boisterous and colorful. Music floats through the air, shouts and laughter. 

It’s nice, it makes you smile and you wish you’d taken the child with you because you’re sure he’d have much more fun with you than with Din picking out rolls of bandage and rations and pulse rifle cartridges if he can find someone that has some. 

You stop suddenly in your tracks when you hear a conversation in a language you immediately recognize, the familiar syllables cutting through the afternoon chatter. 

You spin and find two men in robes speaking gently to each other in Mando’a. Before you can stop yourself, your feet have already carried you to their table where they sit sipping cups of caf. 

“Su cuy'gar,” you greet. They both look surprised, glancing at each other and then back at you. “Sorry to bother you. You speak Mando’a?” 

One smiles, “Yes. Of the few outsiders that do, I think.” 

“Were you foundlings?” It’s the only way, you think, that they could have learned it. 

“Once,” the older of the two says. “This one learned it at a university.” 

You can’t help the curiosity that burns through you, “At a university? Really?” 

“Only the very barest basics. From a woman being courted by a Mandalorian,” he dismisses with a wave of his hand. “That was a long time ago. Really I learned from him.” He gestures between himself and the other man. 

You shake yourself, “I’ve just never met another aruetii that does.” Let alone two of them, you think dizzily. Two outsiders who spoke Mando’a. 

“And how did you learn?” 

“My…” you trail off. 

Your what? You aren’t sure what exactly Din is to you, or what you are to him. You never have been. He treats you like you’re more precious than beskar, yet everything between you remains undefined. 

“My traveling companion. He’s a Mandalorian.” You swallow, “I wonder if you could tell me if you know what a certain word means? It’s one I’ve been curious about.” You don’t want to tell them that you’re seeking it out because it's something he calls you. That feels too private, too close to the chest. “He said it once and I’ve been trying to figure it out ever since.” 

“Why don’t you ask him?” 

“It would wound my pride. He’s already taught me so much. He overestimates my fluency.” 

They laugh and the man who was once a foundling says, “Yes, ask us then.” 

“Riduur,” you say, carefully pronouncing it so they don’t mistake it for another word. “Riduur,” you repeat with more confidence. 

The men glance at each other, brows raised. “Well, it has several meanings,” the more grizzled of the two says, “But I suppose it's all the same in the end. Spouse would be the most overarching translation. Partner, wife, and husband all work too.” 

For a moment, you can’t breathe, you’re sure your heart has come to a leaping halt in your chest. “Truly? Riduur?” You say it again, just to make sure. They laugh and nod and you decide to have your meltdown away from their table. “Well, thank you for clearing that up. Sorry again to bother you.” 

You turn away from them, a roaring in your ears. Your heart stutters in your chest. Riduur. He’s been calling you his partner, his spouse, for months? That word so softly spoken to you - to tease you, to call for you, whispered to you in the dark, said over and over, more than your own name. It meant partner, spouse, wife, husband?

Something inside you lights up with pride. The shape of it is warm, firm in the clasp of your lungs. Riduur. It’s a living, breathing kind of word, one that takes up space inside you. One you’re proud to bear the weight of, the title of. 

Spouse, you think, doesn’t carry the same gravitas as riduur. There’s something heavier and deeper in the word that a translation couldn’t really carry over into Basic. 

You start back down the road, smiling to yourself, but only make it several paces when Din steps up beside you silently from between two stalls. “Dank farrik,” you gasp, stumbling back. “Where did you come from? You scared me.” 

He doesn’t answer you, doesn’t even tilt his head towards you. You may as well have not spoken at all. 

“Mando?” 

Still, he doesn’t answer you. 

You raise a brow but don’t say anything else as he herds you gently out of the market, desert dust swirling around your calves. Eventually, when you reach the edge of the town, he asks, “Did you find everything you need?” His voice is flat, rough. 

“Yes, I got some food for you and Grogu to try. A little feast for you tonight, since it won’t hold.”

He merely grunts and you frown. “Is something wrong?” You glance over your shoulder. “Did something happen? Are we being followed?”

You glance around his legs at the baby, still securely in the brown canvas bag, who’s peering up at both of you with anxious eyes, big ears drooping. 

“No.” He answers curtly. 

The walk back to the ship is silent, and tense, and you aren’t sure why. 

It’s only when you’re in the safety of the mouth of the ship’s ramp, with the baby in your arms, that your irritation spills over. “Are you upset with me? I didn’t wander. I stayed close and had a weapon and -,” 

Din’s hands go to his hips, helm tilting at an angle as he regards you. His voice is agitated when he finally speaks. You expect him to tell you that you wandered too far, that he commed you and you hadn’t picked it up, that you’d unknowingly wandered into danger. And you expect to have to tell him once again that it's all fine, that you are fine, that you’d traveled without him for years and things always turned out alright. 

Instead, he says, “You should not call yourself an aruetii. That is not what you are.” 

For a moment, it doesn’t register with you what he’s talking about, that he’d clearly overheard your conversation with the Mando’a speakers, likely eavesdropped on it. 

All you are, for a few seconds, is confused. “But…I am an aruetii. I am not a Mandalorian.”

Din’s shoulders go stiff at your words. “That does not make you an outsider. You…you are far from an outsider,” he growls and suddenly spins away from you, his footfalls heavy and loud when he stomps across the hull.

He climbs the ladder to the cockpit and disappears, leaving both you and the baby alone, still standing on the ramp up to the ship. “He’s angry with me,” you say in disbelief, glancing down at the child in your arms, not really understanding why. “We’ll let him cool off,” you decide, bouncing the child against your waist. “Hungry?” 

The baby coos and you smile, worry biting into you as you settle with him in the mouth of the ship. The sun is setting on the sand, the air warm, casting red shadows over the world. There’s nothing around you but sand in any direction you glance, aside from the town from which you’d come on the horizon. 

In the distance, fireworks from the town explode in the sky. You point them out to Grogu, gently feeding him bites of food that you’d gotten at the market. He makes a sound that you suppose is a giggle, big eyes focused on the colors dissipating in the sky. He holds a tiny hand up, like he’d like it to fly to him. 

You curl a hand over his. “None of that,” you say with a laugh. “Those are meant for the stars, not you.” 

He goes back to eating, already distracted. 

A weight settles over your chest.

If Din heard you call yourself aruetii then he knows that you now know what riduur means. 

Maybe that was the true source of his irritation, that you’d gone behind his back to figure out what it meant when he clearly hadn’t wanted you to know.

You rub the tip of Grogu’s ear between your fingers and sigh. 

Any warm feelings you’d had are gone. 

Riduur. 

He’s been calling you that for months. But he hadn’t wanted you to know that he was calling you his partner. For some reason it stings. 

The Mandalorian is not cruel, not the type to play with another’s feelings. But, nonetheless, it feels like he might have been. Teasing you in a way you couldn’t begin to guess at. Or, like he could pretend without actually attaching himself to you, and you’d be none the wiser. 

You shake those thoughts away, listening to the music echoing over the sands. 

When Grogu falls asleep and the sun is just disappearing behind the horizon, you secure the ramp of the ship and carry the baby up into the cockpit. 

Din sits silently in the pilot’s chair, and doesn’t look at you as you tuck the child into the floating pod. 

You fidget with his blanket, not sure what to say. 

“I’m sorry,” he breaks the silence first. “Ni ceta.” 

“Din,” you perch next to him in the co-pilot’s seat. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have gone poking around where I don’t belong. I’m sorry.” 

His head tilts toward you, the visor impenetrable. You swallow when he doesn’t answer, an inexplicable lump forming in the back of your throat. “Don’t belong?” 

“I shouldn’t have asked them what riduur meant. You didn’t want me to know.” 

Din stands and holds out a hand to you. You take it carefully and let him pull you to your feet. “That is not why I-,” he stops. “Do you really not know?” 

“Know what?” 

“I should have been…honest about the name I’ve given you.” He tilts his head and releases your hands. “I’m upset because-,” the Mandalorian pauses and seems to consider his next words for a long moment. Finally, he sighs and simply repeats, “You’re not an aruetii. By definition you can’t be.”

You stare at him for a long moment, before shaking your head. “I don’t understand.” 

He huffs, helm ticking to the side again. “Would you call Grogu an outsider?” 

“Of course not,” you answer, horrified. “No.” 

“And why is that? He’s not a Mandalorian either.” 

You don’t have to think about it, shaking your head before he’s even finished speaking. “He’s your child.” 

Din steps forward, close to you, but doesn’t say anything. “Our child,” he corrects eventually. “I am upset because you don’t seem to know you are a part of our clan. Even after knowing what I’ve been calling you. Riduur, ner riduur, for months. You still don’t know.”

Oh. Oh. 

“Osi'kyr,” you murmur softly. “How could I know that, Din?” 

He stands silent and still before you, so still you aren’t sure he’s breathing. “I thought it was clear,” he says stiffly. “I thought it was clear I was courting you.”

Something pleasantly warm settles in among your heart and lungs. “Maybe you should explain your customs to me more thoroughly,” you joke lightly. 

He doesn’t laugh, shoulders tense, hands curled in anxious fists. 

“So why not tell me what the word means?” It seems a bit past courting to you, to call someone riduur. It seems to you he’s already chosen you. 

He shifts from foot to foot, the movement somehow laden with vulnerability and worry. “If you did not…want the same - I’m not sure I could bear that.” 

You stare at him, not entirely sure what to say to that. “So, what,” you start, “you expected me to one day just realize you considered me your-,”

“I would have told you,” he interrupts quickly. “One day.” 

“Told me-,” 

“What riduur means,” he corrects. “And asked if you’d like to be that.” Din takes your hands again, “Just know that you are part of this clan, whatever your answer is.” His voice is so sincere, it breaks your heart a little. “Whether you want to be attached to me or not, you have a place in this clan. You are not an aruetii.”

You tilt your head at the same time he does, the nonverbal cues you both habit in reflecting between you. “I’m just a bit confused. Was that your idea of a proposal?” You smile so he knows you’re teasing him. 

Din gives a long suffering sigh. “Mandalorians do not propose.” 

“Oh. So what do you do then?” You lift a brow, sliding your hands to his wrists so you can work on tugging one glove off at a time. 

“We make an agreement,” he says, not trying to stop you. His voice is hoarse. “We make vows.”

You don’t look up, tucking the gloves in your belt before tracing your fingers along the veins in his wrists, the lines of his palms. “Oh. And did you make vows to me that I wasn’t aware of?” 

You’re still joking, but Din takes your words to heart. He shakes one hand loose from yours and presses it beneath your jaw, tipping your head gently back. “I did. I make vows to you everyday.” 

All the air seems to get sucked out of the ship. You gape at him, mouth opening and closing without any sound coming out as you struggle to find words. He chuckles, low and breathy beneath the helmet. You imagine he must be smiling. “Now you see how you make me feel. Like I can’t breathe.”

You finally manage to take a breath, lifting your chin away from his fingers, threads of embarrassment beating under your skin at his teasing. “You could have told me, you know.” 

“It was too large a risk. I wouldn’t risk you.”

Maybe you should hesitate in your next words. 

But you don’t. 

You’ve never been surer in something. 

“Din,” you step close to him. “I would take those vows.” 

“They…they are heavy vows. Not meant to be taken lightly. They’re bonding vows.”

He thinks you don’t get it, that you still don’t understand. “I understand what kind of vows they are. What are the vows?” You step even closer, the heat of his body seeping into yours. 

He smells like sun, like spices from the market and oil on beskar. It makes you dizzy, the usual scent of him is much cooler. Evergreen and pine. 

The cockpit is dark, the very last dregs of light on the horizon gone. The contours of the helm are shadowed, the flicker of lights from the control panels reflecting in blinking lights over the visor. 

There is no hesitation in his voice when he finally speaks. 

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.” 

You mouth the words, doing your best to translate them. 

But he’s spoken too quickly, and you only understand part of it. He waits for you to ask for him to translate, giving you a moment to attempt it instead of immediately telling you. 

“I only understand part…We are one together and-,”

“We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors,” he says easily. “We are - we are all of those things already. I have kept the promise I made.” 

Your throat is dry, and you can’t think about how that’s true. “We’re raising warriors?” You attempt a joke. 

“Would you not call the child a warrior?”

“I would,” you agree. “I would also still take those vows, now knowing their meaning.”

There’s a long pause in which you can feel the Mandalorian’s stare. His gaze is intense, assessing, hot against your skin. You patiently look back, waiting. “You don’t have to.”

“You think I don’t want to.” 

He huffs, “I…don’t want you to believe you have to make vows to me. You are a part of our clan no matter what.” 

“Would you still call me riduur?”

“If you allowed it,” he takes a breath. “Yes.” 

The lip of the helm drifts up and you can sense he’s no longer looking at you, embarrassed. “Din.” His head snaps back down. “I know I am not an outsider.” You wait for him to digest those words. “I know this is my clan now. I still would like to make these vows to you.” 

He reaches up and presses his palms to either side of your jaw, the crown of the helmet pressing softly against your forehead for just a moment when he dips his head. “If you’re sure, repeat after me. We’ll say them together.” 

“Elek,” you agree. 

“Mhi solus tome,” he starts, reverence and disbelief lodged in his voice. 

In the distance, more fireworks explode in the sky. The colors reflect in the glass of the ship’s front window, sparking over the reflective helmet. “Mhi solus tome,” you say slowly, careful to pronounce each word exactly right. 

You’d never imagined yourself as someone who would get married, and certainly not like this. 

But that was before you knew Din. And all this feels to you is right. It’s both sudden and not. 

This was meant to happen. All your years with the Mandalorian lead towards this. 

You repeat the rest of the vows after him, slow and deliberate. 

When the final syllable rolls off your tongue, a muted kind of joy overcomes you. You’ve been a part of it for a long time, but you feel it now, the belonging to a clan and people. 

Din releases you and leans back. His chest rises and falls quickly. 

You close your eyes and reach for the edge of his helmet. 

You want to kiss him at the very least. 

But when your fingers skim over the release, he captures your wrists in one hand. You let go and Din reaches up with his opposite hand to take it off himself. 

You expect him to kiss you right away, but he doesn’t. You can only feel the lingering touch of his gaze. 

“Open your eyes.” 

“What? No-,” you begin to protest. 

“Yes. You can now, riduur.” The word rumbles out of him proudly, heavy in his mouth. 

You tilt your head and frown. “Are you-,” 

“This is the Way.” His voice warbles, just a little. 

“Are you sure?” You get the entire question out this time. 

Now it’s his turn to tease you. “No,” he says dryly. “I’ll change my mind after you open your eyes.” 

“Ha ha,” you deadpan. “You’re very funny.” 

“Open them.” 

You think you might be more nervous than him to see his face. You honestly never thought you would get to, and you had long ago made peace with that. It didn’t matter to you what he looked like, you knew his heart and that was more than enough. 

You’ve tried to picture him before, from tracing your fingers over his face, but the image is only half formed and without detail. It felt wrong, somehow, too, to try to picture the face of someone who deliberately hid it. 

 Slowly, you peek your eyes open at him. Whatever you had pictured is nothing compared to the man you find yourself gazing at. 

A sense of vertigo sweeps through you, because it's almost like looking at a stranger. 

You have to resist the urge, for just a moment, to tear yourself away from him. 

His hair is darker in color than you thought it would be, but just as feathery and lightly curled as you imagined. Din’s eyes are dark, a deep brown that you’d like to spend lifetimes memorizing, falling inside. You were right too, from your explorations of his face with your hands, about the shape of his nose, his mustache, the patchy beard. You’d pictured his eyes all wrong, the shape of jaw.

One thing you couldn’t have guessed at is the naked expressiveness in his eyes. 

It makes sense though, he’s spent a lifetime without the need to school his features into anything other than exactly what he was feeling. 

You wonder how many times he’s looked at you with such longing, and you never knew. 

He says your name, a question mark tagged onto the end of it, his voice wrecked and strange without the modulator muffling his voice. 

The sound of his voice rips the upside down feeling away. It’s his voice, it’s him. Not some handsome stranger. 

Your eyes flit up from where your gaze had lingered on his lips, the pink shape of his mouth against golden skin. “I was right.” 

He frowns, eyes soft and worried. It shocks you again, just how open his emotions read in his eyes. “About what?” 

“I knew you were pretty. You are pretty,” you tease, pressing yourself against him, the hard contours of him biting into you. You fist your hands into the fabric at his sides. “Mesh’la.” 

Din frowns at you. “I told you that means beautiful, didn’t I?” His voice is playful and doesn’t match his expression. 

You nod and don’t answer, reaching up to cup your hand against his cheek. Din’s arm settles easily around your waist, dragging you closer, the weight of his helm in his hand heavy against your hip. Normally, you’d let him close the distance between you but you can’t quite manage to let him now, gazing instead at the planes of his face. “Mesh’la,” you tell him. “Ner riduur.” 

“That’s my line.” 

“Not anymore,” you tease. “Husband.”

You tip your chin into his and wait for him to meet you there. 

He gives a slight smile before leaning into you. “Not husband. Riduur.” 

“Right,” you agree, because really, it isn’t quite the same. It can’t be. “Ner riduur.” 

The kiss lingers long on your lips. He’s savoring you, a warm passion that doesn’t quite extend into heat. Din’s tongue meets yours briefly, the groan it tugs from his mouth sending flashes of lightning all the way down to your toes. 

The fireworks outside are no rival for the feelings clawing up the back of your throat. 

You want to tell him you love him, but you think he already knows. 

He breaks away to set his helmet down. When he turns back to you, his hands roam over you, free in their movement, tugging at the band of your trousers. 

You can’t stop staring at him, suddenly overwhelmed, drinking in the sight of him, the naked expression of him, everything he’s thinking spread over his face like a well loved language. 

All you’d wanted was to know the name he gifted you, instead - this. 

You map your hand over his face, tracing the divot between his brows, the curve of one sharp cheekbone. “I never thought I would see your face,” you whisper. 

Those soft, vulnerable eyes meet yours, arm wrapping around you again, as his bare forehead presses to yours, “And I always knew you would.” 

Thank you for reading! Please let me know your thoughts!

If you want more of Din and his riduur, Significant-verse drabbles can be found here!

Translations:

Riduur - spouse, partner, wife, husband

Ner riduur - my spouse, partner, wife, husband

Cyare - beloved

Cyar'ika - darling, sweetheart

Udesii - Relax, take it easy

Ad’ika - little one, baby

Su cuy'gar - Hello

Aruetii - outsider, foreigner, traitor

Ni ceta - an apology, rare

Osi'kyr - exclamation of surprise

Elek - yes

Mesh’la - beautiful

#fic rec #din djarin x reader

[beyondspaceandstars]

My Love Mine All Mine

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Slow dancing with Bucky in the aftermath of one of Tony's parties.

TW: Fluff, slow dancing, drinking.

The charity gala Tony had thrown in Avengers tower was slowly winding to a close. Most of the people had gone home, leaving only a few stragglers at the bar, huddled around the pool table or sitting in the various seating areas. Bucky had taken up residence on the couch in the far corner of the room. Some of the party-goers were still wary about Bucky joining the Avengers and tended to give him a wide berth.

The hushed conversations and nervous looks being thrown his way made Bucky want to disappear. He knew that there would always be people in the world who only saw him as the Winter Soldier. Bucky thought he would be used to it by now, but it never seemed to get any easier.

The feeling of being watched like a rabid animal whenever he moved weighed heavily on him. When Sam and Steve moved over to one of the pool tables, Bucky decided to settle himself in a corner where he would be least likely to draw attention.

He had been sitting on the couch by himself for most of the night, hands folded in his lap as he watched the people around him silently. Steve had come to check on him a few times, but Bucky had waved him off and sent him back to the party.

Bucky wished he was anywhere else, but Steve wanted him to come and he didn't want to let his friend down. Bucky looked up as Y/N made her way over to him with two drinks and a soft smile.

"Mind if I sit?" Y/N asked, Bucky nodded.

She sat down beside him with a sigh, crossing her legs and holding out one of the glasses to him, "You looked thirsty," She said.

"Thanks, doll," He said, taking the glass from her hand.

"Are you okay? I feel like I haven't seen you at all tonight," She asked, taking a sip of her drink.

Bucky shrugged, looking down at the glass in his hand, "Just not in the party mood, I guess," He stated.

"We can go if you want, things are starting to wind down anyway," She offered.

"It's alright, there's a couple over there who've been watching me like I'm gonna fly off the handle at any second. It's better if I just stay here," Bucky said.

"I'm sorry, Bucky. I didn't know," She said softly.

"It's fine. They're not doing any harm," He said, taking a sip of the drink she had brought him. He was pleasantly suprised to find that it was his favorite whiskey.

"They're making you uncomfortable in your home and that's not fair," Y/N said. Her bright eyes quickly finding the couple that looked over at Buckey nervously every few seconds.

"Sweetheart, don't worry about it, I'm fine," Bucky assured, hand resting on her knee and pulling her attention back to him.

"I just- I wish they knew you like we do," Y/N said, resting her hand over his.

"That's a sweet thing to say, doll," Bucky said.

A new song started playing through the speaker systems, a bit slower than the rest as the party was coming to a close.

Y/N gasped softly, "I love this one... Will you dance with me, Buck?" She asked.

His cheeks flushed, looking around the room warily, "I'm flattered, doll, but I don't know," He sighed.

"Just right here, you don't even have to go far," She assured, setting her drink on the table.

"Alright, I'll dance with you," He agreed, placing his drink down beside her's.

Y/N stood up, pulling Bucky along with her as they stepped away from the table. Bucky held her hand in his as his metal hand rested on her waist lightly.

He guided them in a few steps before pulling away and spinning her with a smile. Bucky pulled her back in, hand sliding around the curve of her waist to rest on the small of her back.

Y/N rested her head down on his chest as they swayed, humming along to the music as they moved together.

Bucky pressed his lips to her forehead gently, "Thank you for saving my night, doll," He mumbled.

She smiled, "You're welcome, Bucky," Y/N said.

...

Steve and Sam watched the pair dance with knowing smiles on their faces, "How long do you think it'll take him to tell her how he feels?" Sam asked.

Steve sighed, "Knowing Buck, centuries," He said, taking a sip of his drink.

"Seriously? Wasn't he some kinda ladies man back in the day?" Sam questioned.

Steve nodded, "He was, but he's different now and she's different," Steve said, shifting the beer bottle in his grasp.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, turning his head towards the supersoldier.

"Bucky definitely flirted back in the day, but I don't think he ever looked at any of them the way he looks at her," Steve replied.

Sam turned his head towards Bucky and Y/N, watching him laugh at something she said while they swayed together.

"He's got it bad for her," Sam stated, Steve nodded.

"What are we talking about over here, boys?" Natasha asked, leaning up against the wall beside Steve.

"The lovebirds," Sam said, tilting his head in the direction of Bucky and Y/N.

"Wanda and I have been trying to get them together for almost a year, but nothing has worked yet," She sighed, crossing her arms.

"Wanna combine forces?" Sam asked.

"Is that a serious proposal, Wilson?" Natasha asked, narrowing her eyes.

Sam nodded, "Hell yeah, I'm always down to play matchmaker," He said.

"Or you could always just leave them be and let them work it out themselves," Steve suggested.

"We'll work on her, you deal with Bucky?" Natasha proposed, completely dismissing Steve's attempt to dissuade them.

"Deal," Sam replied.

"I'll tell Wanda," Natasha said, walking off to try and locate the witch.

"Sometimes I ask myself why I even try to stop these things from happening," Steve sighed.

"Isn't that your job? You're like the fun police," Sam questioned, taking a drink from his glass.

Steve shot him an offended look, "I am not the fun police. I can be fun. I just think meddling in other people's lives is juvenile and unnecessary," Steve said.

"Whatever you say," Sam smiled, patting Steve on the shoulder before making his way over to the bar.

#fic rec #bucky barnes x reader

[beyondspaceandstars]

Solidarity

Summary: Frank enlists your help on a dangerous mission. Matt’s not happy about it.

Pairings: Matt x f!reader, platonic Frank Castle & f!reader, platonic Matt & Frank

Warning: Strong profanity (looking at you, Frank). Canon-typical violence. There’s also dog abuse in this, so please proceed with caution!

“You will not believe how terrible my day was.” You were already complaining aloud as you started up the stairs to Matt’s apartment, perfectly aware that he’d be able to hear you. “My boss gave me triple the amount of work that’s humanly possible to complete within a month and somehow he expects me to do it within a week. And then he had the audacity to tell me that I shouldn’t wear my hair in a ponytail because it’s ‘too informal’ for the face of the company. I mean, what the hell does that even mean?”

One of Matt’s neighbors opened their apartment door as you marched up the steps, and you quickly lifted your phone to your ear as though you were talking to someone, lest they think you were just talking to yourself. “And then my coworker took my data — you know, all that stuff I had been inputting onto that Google Doc the other day? And he presented it as his own, no credit to me. I can’t even report him because he’s supposed to retire in a week so it’s pointless anyway.” 

You continued to gripe as you unlocked the door, chucking your keys down and tossing your shoes off so violently that they hit the wall. “Anyway, I’m in a bad mood now, so I have two propositions — well, demands, I guess — for you. One: We watch Jeopardy tonight. In pajamas. I will object if you’re still wearing a tie.” You unzipped your coat and tossed it haphazardly onto the coat rack. “Two: My friend asked if we’ve ever showered together before — you know, typical girl talk questions — and I told her we hadn’t, so I was thinking—” You stopped dead as you entered the living room, your stomach plummeting. Leaning on the wall by the window, arms crossed, was Matt, wearing his devil suit, complete with the helmet on and his billy clubs dangling in his hands. And across from him, standing with an actual gun in his hand, was Frank Castle. Mortification sent heat into your face, and for a moment you just stood there, at a loss for words. 

“We have company,” Matt said dryly, uncrossing his arms and standing up straight.

“I can see that,” you said finally. “You didn’t think to... I don’t know, shoot a text warning me?” Your cheeks were searing; had you seriously just proposed showering with Matt in front of the Punisher, of all people? 

“I was a bit preoccupied all day with making sure Trigger Happy over here didn’t shoot anyone,” Matt said, his jaw tense. 

Frank snorted. “Red, you’d be bleeding out in an alley if I hadn’t saved your ass. Get off your high horse.”

“Yeah. Okay. But you couldn’t have said something, anything at all, when I walked in?  Like, ‘Hey, honey, there’s a wanted fugitive standing in our living room, just so you know.’ Sorry, Mr. Castle,” you added in an undertone to him. “Um — I’m not trying to make you feel unwelcome or anything, I just feel a bit awkward about earlier, so—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Frank said shortly, his gaze still trained on Matt. “We gonna stand here with your girl watching us and argue all afternoon? Or are we going to get this done?”

“Get what done?” you asked.

It was Frank who answered, and from the way Matt was standing with his back straight as a ruler now, you had the sense he wasn’t pleased, for whatever reason. “There’s a shipment of heroin that’s supposed to arrive tonight. The dealers have been selling to kids on the street to make a quick buck.”

“It’s due to come in at midnight,” Matt said. “But the source I talked to last night doesn’t know which dock.”

You made of sound of sympathy. “I take it you’ll be having to sweep a lot of territory tonight, then?”

“That’s a damn understatement,” Frank said. “We’re not just talking about the docks in Hell’s Kitchen, ma’am. We’re talking all the way down to Chelsea, and the piers in Brooklyn Heights.”

“But that’s impossible to scope out,” you said slowly. “Even if Matt’s standing in the center of all the docks in Hell’s Kitchen, he couldn’t possibly hear all the way down to Chelsea, let alone Brooklyn.”

“Which is why we’re in for a rough night,” Matt said. “I called Jessica, Luke, and Danny. They’re all out of town.” He jutted his chin at Frank. “And that’s why we’re here together.”

“I ain’t happy about it either,” Frank added. “He’s already talking my ass off about moral obligation and shit. Feels like I’m in church.”

"Because you tried to stab the guy in the throat after he gave us information we needed.”

“If you could see, Red, then you’d know from the look in that guy’s eyes that he planned on murdering us the second that we turned our backs on him—”

“Which is why I tied him up and left him for Mahoney.”

“I have a better idea,” you said, cutting in before anything could escalate. “I can help.” 

Matt’s response was immediate and scathing. “No.”

"Oh, come on — I get it if you want to do your whole ‘Fly home, Buddy, I work alone’ thing, but you’re not working alone, you’re working with the Punish— I mean, Mr. Castle. I’ll be supremely insulted forever if you don’t let me help.”

“If you think that I’ll let those dealers anywhere near you—” Matt began, but you interrupted again.

“Look, I’ve always waited here patiently and uselessly while you do your deviling every night, but can’t you give me a chance? Maybe we’ll be a dream team. Terrific trio. Second Edition Avengers. The Scooby gang minus a talking dog.”

“She could help, Red,” Frank said, sending an unreadable look in your direction. “I say we do it. She can camp out at Brooklyn. I mean, the guy said that they could dock there, but they never have before. Odds are they’ll be in Chelsea or Hell’s Kitchen.”

“So, what? We throw her to the wolves in Brooklyn where we can’t get to her easily if things go south?” Matt looked as though he were about two seconds from socking Frank in the jaw. Or worse, two seconds from handcuffing you to the apartment so that you wouldn’t leave. 

“No,” you said firmly. “Things won’t go south. Matt, I’m not going to... I don’t know, engage in a fight with them. I’m not a vigilante. I’ll just hide and keep an eye on the docks, then if they show up, I’ll call you.”

“I’ll stay in Chelsea,” Frank said. “I know you get all weird about the Kitchen, Red, so it’s all yours.”

Matt was standing stock still, grinding his teeth. Finally he ground out, “It’s too dangerous.”

“So is driving a car. So is crossing the street. And yet I’ve done both many, many times,” you said. “I’ll be completely fine. Why would dealers have any reason to go after a random passerby, even if they did see me? Which they won’t,” you added hurriedly. “Because I’ll stay safely out of sight.”

“Perfect.” Frank checked his watch. “I ain’t staying here while we twiddle our thumbs and wait for midnight to roll around. Give Y/N my burner number, Red.”

“I’d never have thought you’d do this, Frank,” Matt said, his voice low. “I thought you at least were on my side when it came to keeping people safe who—”

“Who are what?” you said sharply. “I might not have... superpowers, or, I don’t know, a weird bloodthirstiness — sorry again, Mr. Castle — but I can still help.”

“Call me Frank.” Frank leveled his gaze at you. “And cut the apologizing shit.”

“Uh. Okay.” You had to bite your tongue to keep from apologizing again.

And, somehow, you actually ended up on the mission. You took the C train down to Brooklyn Heights after enduring a very long and very dry lecture from Matt on how you were to stay out of sight no matter what and to call him should any boat arrive with men wearing ski masks. 

And, in all honesty, you weren’t nervous. The likelihood of the dealers showing up at your assigned docks was slim. And even if they did, you’d just have to make a quick phone call to both of them, and then camp out. Easy-peasy. 

You settled in on a wooden bench overlooking the piers, wishing you had worn more than your jacket. The temperature had dropped more than expected when the sun had set, and now you shivered slightly, the cold metal of a knife against your thigh. Just in case. 

How exactly you were actually out here, on a real mission, with Matt willingly letting you out of his protection, you weren’t sure. It was exhilarating, though. The city was dark, yet not really; it was aglow with the street lamps and headlights and apartment windows whose blinds hadn’t been closed yet. You scrunched up your legs to conserve body heat and regretted not bringing a blanket, too. And a pillow. That would’ve made the bench slightly less rock hard against your bottom. 

Seriously, how did Matt do this kind of thing every night? Fifteen minutes in and you were already missing the warmth of home. 

You glanced at the skyline. Somewhere, on the other side of those skyscrapers, Matt was waiting as well. Probably he wasn’t curled up on a bench like you were, though. It was more likely that he’d be stalking the rooftops, or pacing in the shadows. 

And then movement caught your eye, at just after 12:30 in the morning. You scrambled to your feet, squinting in the dark. It was a boat, fast approaching the pier just next to you. 

No way. Yeah, you were on lookout, but somehow you’d convinced yourself that the dealers wouldn’t actually show up on your end. You waited to call Frank and Matt, though, because in case it was a different boat, you didn’t want to raise a false alarm. You moved away from your bench and began walking leisurely down the pier, as though you were going for a nighttime stroll. All you needed to do was get a good glimpse of them, then you’d head up the street where you could watch from a safer spot. 

“In, out! Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” someone said, a bit loudly, from the deck of the ship. You swiveled your head to see him, and sure enough, he had a ski mask. Swiftly you pulled out your phone and fire off a quick text to both Matt and Frank. You were about to leave the pier altogether when a bark made you stop short. 

....A dog?

“Shut the bitch up!” one of the men snarled. “We get caught, then all the goods get seized.”

“She’s been fucking howling the whole way, what am I supposed to do?”

“Give her a piece of food.”

“What food? You ate the rest of it, man.”

“Can’t believe we’re bringing this dog anyway. Boss already has six bitches. Why does he need another?”

“She’s some special breed, or some shit, I don’t know. Sells for a thousand bucks a pop. Grab that box. Like I said — in, out. We’re already late.”

The dog kept barking, though, and you winced as the man kicked the poor thing in the ribs. Piece of shit. You wanted to go up there and throttle him yourself. If Matt or Frank would just get here already, then you’d be able to relax, but it would still be at least twenty minutes...

And what if the dealers got away in that time frame?

The dog started barking again, and suddenly, without any word of warning, one of the men picked the dog up like a sack of potatoes and threw her overboard. “To hell with the extra cash. That’s how you deal with security problems,” you heard him say as he wiped his hands on his pants. “Get moving, go, go, go! Unload this shit so we can get out of here!”

Below, the dog’s frantic head slipped below the surface.

Oh, hell no. 

Your feet were moving even before you could make an executive decision in your mind. The cold of the evening was forgotten, as were Matt’s strict words to not be seen, no matter what happens, and you dove into the water, where the dog had fell beneath the black waves beside the pier. 

Fortunately, it was summer, and as shockingly cold as the water was, it wasn’t anywhere near deathly cold. You couldn’t see anything, and desperately tried to listen for the dog, but you didn’t have Matt’s ears, and for a moment panic swelled inside you that this dog would drown, and you wouldn’t be able to do a thing. 

And then you saw movement, out of the corner of your eye. The dog was struggling to stay afloat, her snout barely making it out of the water. You grabbed her around the middle and kicked with all your might, coughing on water and unable to see hardly anything except for the blurry outline of the pier. There had to be a ladder somewhere along there, and you groped blindly along the edge, seeking out a grip to pull yourself and the dog up. 

For a moment, you completely forgot about the dealers behind you. All you could think about was getting the dog safely onto land, and with a massive effort you lifted her up. Her paws scrambled against the edge of the pier, but with a good shove to her rump, she was able to get over the edge and dash away into the shadows. 

Good luck out there, doggie. You started to climb the ladder yourself, but froze when you heard the telltale click of a gun being cocked in front of you. Slowly you looked up, your blood running cold at the sight of a gun pointed straight at your forehead. The man holding it had his hair tied back in a bun, and there was a horrible expression on his face that told you he wouldn’t have any qualms about pulling the trigger. 

“Should I shoot, boss?” he asked, his eyes not moving from your face. “Stupid girl’s seen us. She’ll probably run her mouth and tell the cops.”

Your brain felt as though it were short-circuiting. “I swear, I won’t tell a soul. You have my word. Really, I’ll just leave here, and I promise—”

“Do it!” one of the men shouted from the boat. “Get it done so you can get your ass back up here to help. You know how many bodies there are in the Upper Bay? She’ll just be another.”

Your heart was punching the inside of your rib cage. You considered falling backwards to try to swim away, but what good would it do? There was no other way to get back onto land nearby except for this ladder, and you didn’t trust yourself to swim around the boat and across to the next pier without simply getting shot en route. Lunging up the rest of the ladder to fight him was an even worse option. Even if you could fight like Matt (which you could safely say was not the case), you were at a disadvantage; he had the high ground. 

But you didn’t have a choice. The man lunged down and grabbed you by the collar of your jacket, hoisting you up onto the pier. You shivered violently, unsure of whether it was from fear or cold. The man looked you over. “Could hold her for ransom, Tom. That’d bring in some extra cash.”

“No.” The man, who must’ve been Tom, shook his head. “That’s just a surefire way to get attention from the cops. Let’s take her in. We’ll kill her once we’re back on open water and dump her body in the Atlantic. Much cleaner that way.”

The man holding you grunted in agreement and shoved you forward up the ramp to the boat. You obeyed only because of the gun pressed against your temple, feeling like you might vomit any second. 

Where are Matt and Frank? The night was as still as a reflecting pool. It was as though the city itself had gone to sleep, abandoning you to these men, and you had to choke down the rising lump in your throat that was making you feel like you might cry any second or pass out. But tears wouldn’t come, as you were led into a cabin, your mouth promptly duct-taped closed. The sensation made you panic even more — a little air could get through to your nose, but not much, and the sudden feeling of being near to asphyxiation made you even more light-headed. 

The men, however, seemed to forget about you as soon as they tied you to the chair. That they hadn’t killed you immediately was the most relieving of mercies, and you struggled fruitlessly to escape your bonds, feeling supremely useless. Surely Matt would arrive any second; he would hear exactly where you were, you reasoned, and he’d make his way to you as soon as he could. Any minute you’d hear the sound of a baton ricocheting off some unfortunate skulls or the cracking as bones shattered under his fists. 

But instead, it was bullets you heard first. Frank. You gritted your teeth, hearing the shouts of men that were surely being killed without a second thought. Hopping with your feet, you were able to wiggle your chair forward slightly until you could see outside the cabin door. Frank’s silhouette was a menacing shape against the moonlight. 

Where is Matt?

One of the largest men — Tom, you recalled — suddenly came barreling into the room, a gun in his hand. He untied you violently, yanking the rope so roughly against your wrists that you gasped under the tape, and then dragged you forward, the gun against your head. Unceremoniously you were toppled from the chair, your knees slamming down onto hard wood. 

“Drop your gun!” Tom jabbed his gun against your forehead so hard that you saw stars. “Drop it now and put your hands behind your head, or I’ll blow her brains out!”

Through your fuzzy vision you saw Frank freeze. His gaze was cold; calculating, and for the first time you wondered what your value was in Frank’s mind, compared to the triumph of offing some criminals. Which was worth more to him? For a moment, you feared he would prioritize killing the smugglers. His fist clenched even tighter around the gun, and he drew in level breaths, without lowering his gaze for even a second. 

“I swear to God I’m pulling this trigger in ten seconds if you don’t drop it,” Tom said, and he dragged the tip of the gun so that it was placed precisely against your temple. Water was still dripping from your clothing and goosebumps were raised so violently on your skin that you felt like you had chicken pox, but that was nothing compared to the electric adrenaline shooting down your spine, as though your nervous system was screaming at you to do something, anything, but it was to no avail; all you could do was stay on your knees, as still as possible, and keep your head lowered. 

And then, as though he’d made a snap decision, Frank set the gun down.

“Kick it over here,” Tom ordered. 

Frank obeyed, slowly raising his hands to his head. “The gun’s down,” he said. “Now let her go.”

Tom’s grip on you tightened. “You’re a fool,” he said, and suddenly you knew what was about to happen, from the steadying of his hands and the firmer press of the gun against your temple. You wrenched yourself away from him, just as the bullet fired off, and the heat of it barely grazed your shoulder as you dove away. 

The victory was short-lived, though. Tom aimed again, and this time you were on the ground, with nowhere to go. You screwed your eyes shut, sending a silent apology to Matt, and...

The bullet never came. 

Gingerly you opened your eyes to see the devil punching Tom with all his wrath and fury. Frank had already picked up his gun again and was running towards the back of the boat, where you knew there were still a few more crew members. Quickly you crawled backwards to get out of the path of Matt and Tom, the latter of whom was being thrown against the cabin wall. 

That had been close. Way, way too close. You fumbled for the duct tape and ripped it off your mouth, lightheaded from breathing irregularly. Stars formed in front of your vision and you had to slow yourself down, drawing in air and then releasing it slowly. 

Matt was still slamming his fist into the face of Tom, and blood was spurting everywhere. You squinted at them, your heart dropping — far too much blood was spraying out, and Matt was showing no signs of slowing down —

“It’s okay. You’ve got him,” you whispered, the words coming out of your mouth in a rasp. “Matt.”

Matt dropped Tom, who slid to the ground, unconscious. Using the edge of the boat to support yourself, you stood up slowly, and limped over to Matt; your knees were still aching from earlier. Gently you reached towards his shoulders. “I can call 911.”

“He deserves to die.”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” you said. Matt was in a dangerous anger, you could tell; one wrong move and he’d do something he’d regret for the rest of his life. Choosing the right words now was imperative. “A judge will decide that.”

“He tried to kill you,” Matt snapped, whirling around and knocking your arm off his shoulder. “If he had — if he’d succeeded—”

“But he didn’t.”

“Does that matter?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Frank got there first. “Cool down, Red,” he said, as nonchalantly as though you were all at dinner together. “Your girl’s safe. We got the drugs before they could get shipped.”

“Don’t talk to me like I need to be calmed down,” Matt said, his voice hardly more than a snarl. 

Frank stared at Matt for a few moments. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “To answer your question. It does matter that he tried killing her.” Then, without warning, he shot Tom, square in the forehead. You yelped, looking away from the bloody hole where his head was now caved in. His features were unrecognizable, and hollow in death, and yet you couldn’t help looking back at him, his eyes meeting yours as though he still were alive. 

“Get her out of here. Warm her up,” Frank said, nodding at you. “I’ve got other business to do this evening.”

“Other business?” you asked, but Matt was reaching for you, skating his hands over your body. 

“Sorry,” you said lamely, shaking slightly from the adrenaline. “I sort of disobeyed the only rule.”

“You could have died.”

“But there was a dog, and I had to save it — they tossed the poor thing overboard. I couldn’t just sit by.”

And, to your surprise, Matt’s lips cracked into a small smile. Though you couldn’t see his eyes under the mask, you could feel his warmth. “Yeah. I know the feeling.”

Frank was gone already. Together, you and Matt exited the boat, and it took all of your willpower to not look back at the corpse. 

“So,” you said, taking Matt’s hand as you walked down the dark street together. The feeling of the duct tape was lingering on your mouth, and the way that you had been tied up — the gun against your head — and it was making your heart race. Even though Matt would see right through you (hear right through you?), you adopted a casual tone. “How was my audition? Can I officially be the Assistant Daredevil?”

“You’re deflecting.”

“I’m not deflecting. I’m just wondering if I passed some sort of test, and if you’ll let me join you now—”

“Sweetheart.” Matt stopped short and pulled you into the shadows between buildings. “You’re not fooling me.”

“I’m not trying to fool you.” Your mouth was dry. 

“That was intense. You don’t have to pretend it wasn’t. You could’ve died.” Matt’s voice shook a bit, and you were reminded that as terrifying as it was for you, it had probably been even worse for Matt. Because if you had died, and it was technically on his watch... yeah. That wouldn’t have gone over well. 

You cupped his face, and he leaned into it slightly. “Okay. I’m a bit freaked out. But I’m okay.”

“Who’s reassuring who, now?” he said after a moment, and that warm, small smile returned. He pulled you in closer, wrapping his arms around you tightly enough that you had to draw in a short breath. 

“Maybe...” Your voice came out in a whisper. “Maybe we both need it tonight.” 

A/N: Sorry for the slightly rushed ending but this was beginning to expand a bit too much and I didn’t want it to feel like it should have multiple chapters. Honestly, I wasn’t happy with this piece so it’s been sitting in my drafts for about a year now, but it’s been awhile since I posted a one shot, so... here we are.

Hope you all had a great day, thanks so much for reading! 

-Elle

#fic rec #matt murdock x reader

[beyondspaceandstars]

Here

Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: Matt saves his wife from being held hostage by Fisk's men and helps her with the PTSD that comes from it.

From this request from an anon named melted butter!

I hope you like it, anon friend!

Warnings: brief mentions of violence, hostage situation, PTSD symptoms, heavy angst in the beginning

Words: 2.7k

Suite No. 1 in G Major, BWV 1007: 1. Prelude

There would never come a day when she wouldn’t associate that song with blood, torture, and darkness. 

There would never come a day when she wouldn’t remember the cloth wrapped around her eyes that felt like sandpaper on her skin and the way her head pounded from the tightness of the blindfold. She could still feel it sometimes—unprompted moments of weakness when she would put on a hat or earmuffs in the winter and the feeling of something being wrapped around her head transported her to that awful night. She’d rather leave the beanie and earmuffs at home and risk her head getting cold than be reminded of that torture. 

It was the way she hesitated to put on gloves because if her wrists felt too constricted she would be reminded of the way the rope burned her skin so badly it left scars. She’d leave those at home too, and risk dry and cold hands. 

“Sweetheart,” Matt said earnestly, wrapping his hands around her cold ones. “Your hands are so cold. Why didn’t you put on gloves?”

She didn’t reply—she just let Matt continue to warm her hands with his. She preferred it that way. She preferred him to feel the scars around her wrists than her to look at them. 

Ever since that night, she took the coldest showers. Every shower was an ice-cold one. The place they had her held hostage in was stuffy—hot. She remembers her own sweat dripping down her face and the salt burning her eyes even under the blindfold. She can’t feel too hot anymore or else she will again be transported back to that traumatizing night. 

And the song—that fucking song. 

She wasn’t sure if it was a torture tactic or if the Kingpin had requested it be played. The only thing that mattered was that they kept it on repeat, at a loud volume—so loud she could hardly hear her voice when they would ask her a question about Daredevil. 

“I don’t know,” she cried behind her blindfold. “I don’t know, I don’t know, I—“

SLAP!

The violins started to feel like her head was being woven in torturous ways. The sound filled her senses similarly to how cough syrup fills one's senses—bitterness from the smell to the taste on the tip of her tongue. It was nauseating to listen to the song over, and over, and over, and over again. Nauseating to be in a situation like she had just two months ago: alone, in pain, and scared. So very scared that she may not make it. 

Until he found her. He told her he would always find her. 

She didn’t know he was there until the music finally stopped playing, and the lights in the warehouse went out. She was blindfolded but the way the men started yelling about the lights told her everything she needed to know. She was shaking against the wall, sweating, trying to find that relief she should feel that Daredevil had come to her rescue—but even that couldn’t shake off her fear. 

“If you ever get taken from me,” Matt had whispered to her one night in bed as he fiddled with the diamond ring on her finger, “know I will find you. And when you know I’m there, I want you to whisper to me like I am now. Because I’ll hear you and I’ll come to you.”

She whispered to him as soon as she heard the music stop and Fisk’s men were shouting at each other. 

“Matthew,” she hushed even lower than a whisper, “Matthew. Matt…”

Matt has dealt with a lot of dark situations as Daredevil, even before he donned the name and had a red suit. Years ago, he saved a little boy from a Russian gang. He saved a group of young girls from trafficking. He has dealt with the worst criminals in this city and it never got easier. All he could do was save people. He just never bet on the fact that one day he would have to save her.

It was something they talked about before deciding to get married. After months of convincing himself he could never have a life like that, she told him that God didn’t put him on this earth to only bear other people’s burdens. God meant for him to have a life like everyone else—a life that included love and marriage. He agreed on one condition: that it be an intimate small wedding at Clinton Church. And by intimate, only Foggy, Karen, and Marci were invited. 

He never wanted to prepare for a situation like this. He never wanted this day to come. He never pondered on what protocols to teach her if someone were to take her—but after months of avoiding the subject, he thought that was still important in case the situation ever did come. And unfortunately, it finally did come. 

He remembers how still the apartment was when he came home—how silent and cold it was. She hadn’t been home since the morning, he could tell. Icicles started to form on the back of his neck when he realized he hadn’t received a call from her since she left work—which was over an hour ago. Matt felt weak in the knees suddenly. He had to support himself on the kitchen counter as he focused his senses on noises outside of the apartment. 

“Dear God,” Matt whispered, “please keep her safe until I find her. Please help me find her.”

The whispers didn’t last long, nor the prayers—soon, Matt was throwing a rage in the apartment. Shattered glass was on the floor. Broken plates. Matt’s agonizing scream when reality finally settled in him that she was taken from him—by who? There was only one possibility. 

In no time he changed into his Daredevil gear and was prowling the streets, rooftop to rooftop, to find where they had been keeping her hostage.

A warehouse by the pier. He could hear the classical music playing at an incredible volume, enough to hurt her ears and get in her head. As soon as Matt found the source of the music, he shut it off, along with the power. 

And then he let the devil out. 

He thought with his fists before using logic to fight these cronies—throwing punches and brutally throwing men over his shoulders, hitting them relentlessly with whatever weapon he found near him. His billy club wires wrapped around someone's neck so tight it made them pass out, using the metal billy club to throw right in another man’s face. Matt moved recklessly in the dark. He wanted to yell at the top of his lungs so loudly it would feel like his chest was ripping apart but he didn’t because he knew she had experienced enough yelling on this night. 

And then, he heard her. 

“Matthew,” she whispered so quietly, it almost missed Matt’s senses. “Matthew… Matt…”

As soon as he made sure all of the men were out, he rushed to her side. Adrenaline pumped in his veins, he was shaking from it. He knelt before her and took off his gloves. 

“Hey,” he cooed, “it’s okay. I’m here. I found you,” and Matt’s voice was wobbly in his throat, tears threatening his eyes but no—he needed to be strong for her. He didn’t know what she endured—quite frankly, didn’t want to know—but he knew it had been a lot on her mentally. She was sobbing. He’d never heard her like this. The blindfold was wrapped so tightly around her eyes. Matt gently untied it and slid it off. He then smelt something metallic in the air—salty. It was blood. Her blood was around her wrists. Matt choked a sob in his chest as he untied her wrists. He could sense the tight friction of a bruise forming on her cheek. 

“I found you,” Matt’s voice cracked—he couldn’t help it. He was a wreck inside to find her like this. In pain, scared, alone. No—not alone anymore, he was here. “It’s okay now.” He gathered her delicate frame in his arms, holding her against his body tightly but not crushing her, and ran his hands through her hair, hushing her cries. “It’s okay. You’re safe. I have you now. They can’t hurt you anymore. I’m here.” 

Matt wasn’t sure what was more traumatizing for him—finding her in that situation or hearing her cries after, and the months that would follow. 

It made him question if marrying her was the right decision.

Despite these small things bringing her back to that dreadful night, there was one positive thing that she would never forget either: the feeling when she saw Daredevil—Matt—kneeling before her and gently pulling her blindfold off. The warm wash of relief that spread in her chest was so unexplainable, she could only feel it again if she really put her mind to it. It was like a warm, safe embrace when she knew Matt had found her like he said he would. She could describe the sensation as putting on a weighted blanket. 

The image of his red Daredevil helmet is ingrained in her mind: it was him against that dark warehouse. It was the glow of the red mask that brought so much comfort to her. She was safe. He had finally come—finally found her. God knows how hard it was to locate her. She was so relieved, that all she could do was sob into his embrace. 

It didn’t get easier when they finally made it home, it only got harder. 

She lay in his bed with tear-stained cheeks. It hurt to move. It hurt to speak. She could only whisper. Matt was still in his Daredevil suit, helmet off. He paced the room anxiously, wondering how this could’ve happened, how he could have let this happen. He was thinking of every possibility and what he was going to do next—

“Matthew,” she wheezed as she watched him pace the room. “Matthew.”

He stopped instantly, bringing his attention to her. She was in so much pain, he could sense it from where he stood. It brought a strange heaviness on his shoulders. He knelt again beside the bed and took her hands in his, kissing each knuckle.

“I’m so sorry,” Matt whispered, tears falling down his cheeks—tears of sadness, tears of rage. “I’m so sorry—“

“Shh,” she hushed him. She wasn’t crying anymore. She didn’t think she had any left. “Just be here with me. I need to feel you here with me.” 

Matt took off his Daredevil suit and silently crawled into bed next to her. He carefully brought her close to him so she was snug against his chest. Safe in his arms, nothing could hurt her now.

Months have passed. It’s a bright cold day. 

She and Matt are on their way to their favorite coffee spot uptown. They hardly ever leave Hell’s Kitchen, but she was in the mood for a specific hazelnut latte that only Rosie’s could make. And if it would make her happy to travel almost twenty minutes uptown for a cup of coffee, well, Matt wasn’t going to argue. 

He never brought up that night unless she did. So when she opted to wear a beanie and put on gloves, Matt couldn’t help but feel lighter in his step from the happiness he felt: she was on her way to healing from that experience. He felt like he could forgive himself now. 

“Ready?” She asked at the door, clearly too excited to get this cup. Matt laughed and kissed her before answering. He was so incredibly happy that she seemed to be happy again. 

“Ready.”

The coffee shop had wooden floors and matching wooden tables. In the back was a small bookstore, and on the side the place had a coffee counter. Soft jazz music was playing. Some people were already settled in: a man had his headphones on and was typing aggressively on his laptop, and a young college girl was studying her books. Matt sensed his surroundings everywhere they went to make sure there were no threats.

“Why don’t you go look at the books while I order our coffee,” Matt suggested lightly, untying the gray scarf around his neck. 

“Okay,” she smiled, squeezing his hand before letting go and exploring the back of the cafe. 

Matt waited in line at the coffee counter and sighed contently. 

She immediately was drawn to the fantasy books section. She took off her gloves and placed them in the pocket of her coat. Scanning each title, she picked one out that piqued her interest and frowned when the summary wasn’t what she expected. Another title made her laugh, but she didn’t bother to read the back. She found herself in a different section—romance. She smiled as she glazed over each book spine with her fingers. Romance books always reminded her of Matt. She often imagined what their story would look like in a romance novel. 

And then she heard it. 

Suite No. 1 in G Major, BWV 1007: 1. Prelude

The violins sounded like nails on a chalkboard, bloody fingertips leaving a trail. It sounded like a screech against the pavement. 

It suddenly felt like she no longer was standing in the middle of an aisle of books. Instead, her body was being pulled and sucked into a black hole behind her. Everything around her felt overwhelmingly large and she was small, like she was Alice. Fear crept over her heart like a spider weaving its web. She felt hot in her jacket. Her heart was beating heavily in her chest like a punching bag. 

The song got louder. And louder. And louder. 

“No,” she whispered to herself, shutting her eyes tightly. But closing her eyes and seeing darkness only made it worse. “No…” she opened her eyes and felt like she had tunnel vision. 

Matt was standing in line when he heard something pounding loudly in his ears. It only took him a second to hear the song that was playing, and he was immediately looking around for her. The pounding was coming from her—from her heart. 

In no time Matt was by her side, wrapping his arms around her and quickly walking her outside the cafe—away from the lingering glances, away from that horrible song. Removing her from the triggering situation, knowing she was spiraling. 

She was breathing fast now from panic. Matt brought her into a quiet alley and wrapped her in a bear hug, holding her tightly against him. Her hair covered his face as he turned to breathe in her scent. He took a deep breath, and at the same time, motioned for her to breathe with him. 

“I’m here,” he said into her ear softly, “I have you. Breathe with me, okay?”

“Okay,” she managed to say between breaths, feeling like her own air was choking her. She breathed with Matt and closed her eyes, his touch and warm hug bringing her back to reality. 

“Listen to my voice,” Matt guided, “I’m here. I have you. I’m not going anywhere.”

Matt’s voice was always soothing to her, but especially at a moment like this. His voice sounded like how velvet felt. 

Eventually, just standing in his arms holding her tightly, her breathing returned to normal and that song was out of her head, as were her memories of that night. A few silent moments passed. Matt kissed her head softly and held her longer. He’d hold her for as long as she needed. When she was finally okay, she pulled back and reached her lips to kiss Matt’s. He kissed her in return and placed his hands on her face. 

“I’ll always be here for you,” Matt whispered. 

Matt went inside to get their coffee while she waited for him outside. Soon enough, they were back at the apartment, finishing the last of their drinks and sitting on the couch. She rested her head in his lap and Matt drew circles in her hair, counting the breaths it took for her to fall asleep. He’d of course be there when she woke up. 

#fic rec #matt murdock x reader

[beyondspaceandstars]

heaven

hii !! i just wanted to say thank you real quick for getting my first fic to 200 likes !! im also extremely appreciative to everyone who reposted it, you guys are actually so awesome

summary: just a domestic morning with bucky <3

cw: soo much fluff, pet names, no use of y/n, alpineee !!

wc: 684

as the sunlight spilled into the room through the cracks in the blinds, you began to stir. opening your eyes, you looked out the window as the snow fell from the sky, making beautiful blankets of white over the tree branches. it was the first snow of winter in new york, and tony had canceled work that day because of the dangerous, icy conditions of the roads.  

speaking of white, a fluffy paw suddenly touched your face, making you turn over in bucky’s vice-like grip to come face-to-face with sweet alpine. 

“hi, baby,” you cooed at the feline, lightly scratching behind her ear, eliciting a soft purring out of her. you closed your eyes and smiled, basking in the warm domesticity you were currently laid in. 

you looked over, feeling a warmth bloom in your heart, and a smile form on your face, watching your boyfriend’s sleeping face, finally at peace. not wanting to disturb his sleep, you tried to sneak out of bucky’s grasp, when he quickly pulled you back in, muttering a soft no, snuggling his face into the back of your neck. 

“bucky, i have to eventually get up,” you said, trying to pull out his grasp once again, when he adjusted to put more of his body weight on you. not to crush you, but just enough to ensure you wouldn’t escape his firm grasp.

“jus’ gimme five more minutes, sugar, please, then we can get up, promise,” bucky's gruff morning voice whispered into your ear, making you shiver with goosebumps. you let out a fake annoyed agreement, giving him the okay to cuddle with you again. you both fell asleep, content in each other’s arms, paying no mind to the brightness filtering into the room, or the fact that five minutes had passed. 

it was bucky this time who had woken up first, finding both of his girls wrapped around him, with you in his arms, and alpine cuddled up near both your heads’. he smoothed his thumb down your nose, and then your cheek, admiring your beautiful face in pure bliss. he felt a sense of pride inside him, knowing that you allowed yourself to be vulnerable around him. 

he began planting kisses along your face, hoping to gently wake you up. you woke up with a small groan, yawning and stretching, almost hitting alpine. 

“time to wake up, honey,” bucky whispered in your ear before planting a kiss right below it, warranting a giggle out of you that made his heart leap in his chest. he nuzzled his face into your cheek, muttering a soft good morning, baby into your ear. 

“good morning, jamie,” you reached up to plant a sweet kiss on his nose. he smiled at you, moving to get out of bed. 

“d’ya want some breakfast, sweetheart? just lay in bed and ill make you whatever ya want,” he said, planting a sweet kiss on your nose bridge. alpine trotted after him as he left the room, meowing at him to feed her and her mommy. 

feeling too awake to get out of bed, you got up, trailing into the kitchen in your shared apartment, finding bucky frying some eggs on the stove with alpine eating her breakfast right next to him. 

bucky felt a pair of arms wrap around his stomach, immediately feeling himself smile. he turned off the stove and turned around, ducking down a little to hold his girl. 

“thought i told you to stay in bed, doll,” he murmured, planting kisses on your lips. 

“i couldn’t go back to sleep, i missed you too much,” you faux pouted, making him laugh softly at you. he suddenly picked you up, laying you down on the couch right next to alpine. she bumped her head into your arm, purring as you scratched her back.

“now stay here, baby, while i go get your breakfast,” you smiled, watching him move around the kitchen with ease, imagining the rest of your lives together.

a minute later, bucky climbed onto the couch with your breakfast, placing you on his lap so he could feed you.

masterlist !!

#fic rec #bucky barnes x reader

[beyondspaceandstars]

Can lumberjack Bucky keep me warm? 🥺

He'd love to, nonnie.

A Warm Embrace

Pairing: Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky teases you as he keeps you warm. Word Count: Over 600 Warnings: Fluff, cuddling, pet names, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and a dad, okay?). A/N: Are you lovelies sick of my fluff? Sorry, but Burly and Bambi are sweet.❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You couldn't sleep. Not with how cold you were. The thick blanket tucked around you should've been more than enough to keep you warm, but it didn't stop your teeth from chattering. The howling wind outside sent another shiver down your spine as you tried to burrow yourself deeper into your bed. Maybe you should've thrown another log on the fire.

Better yet, you should've just camped out in front of the fireplace instead of stubbornly going to the bedroom.

“Stupid cold,” you grumbled to yourself, rubbing your face against the pillow when gentle footsteps approached the bed.

Your eyes flew open when the mattress dipped behind you, a warm weight enveloping your back under the blanket before a heavy arm curled around you. “Can hear your teeth chatting from the other room, Bambi,” a deep voice rumbled.

The tremble that rolled through your body had nothing to do with the cold when Bucky rubbed his soft beard against your neck. “I slipped on the ice one time,” you muttered.

He chuckled before he kissed the back of your neck, tracing the path his beard made as you bit your lip. “Yeah, but you tried so hard to stay upright before gravity took you out. Just like Bambi.”

“I’ll have you know that I fell very gracefully,” you said before he turned your body toward him, your heart racing as you came face-to-face with the lumberjack.

Bucky was the captivating sort of handsome, the type that made people stop in their tracks when they caught a glimpse of him. From his lush brown hair to the depths of his intelligent and striking blue eyes, it was like an angel carved him out specifically for you. But what was beautiful about him came from within and shined through the surface.

Even when he teased you.

“I watched the whole thing, darling, and you were about as graceful as a baby deer,” he said, his azure eyes filled with glee when you narrowed yours. “Again, just like Bambi.”

“You know, you’re lucky you’re cute, Burly. And warm,” you said, tearing your gaze away from his pretty eyes to stare at his broad chest. Of course, he walked around the cabin shirtless while you couldn’t stop shaking. How was he so hot? Body and looks wise?

Was it a rule that lumberjacks were sin incarnate clad in packages of plaid shirts and tight pants with sturdy bodies underneath?

“So, you do think I’m cute,” he teased, your stomach flipping as you smiled at his words. Of course, you did. “Come here.”

You buried your face in his chest as his arm tightened around you, molding your body against his as you sought out more of his warmth. He rested his chin on the top of your head as your shaking eventually stopped, his calloused hand roaming along your back with immense care. All you wanted to do minutes ago was sleep, but now he was holding you and pushing a thick thigh between your legs and all you wanted to do was bask in his attention.

Maybe ride his thigh, too.

“You’re right, you know,” he said.

You tried to lean back as much as you could to get a good look at him, but didn’t want any space between the two of you in case you started shivering again. “Right about what?”

He brought his hand to your cheek as his lips curled in a small smile. “I am lucky,” he whispered, helping you tilt your head so he could kiss you, slow and deep.

And lucky for you, your lumberjack would always be by your side.

Because I need another AU, right? SHH. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#fic rec #bucky barnes x reader

[beyondspaceandstars]

Labels (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hi! So, I've kinda put myself on a writing hiatus for a while and, in turn, have limited my time on Tumblr as of late. I was/still kind of am feeling uninspired in terms of writing and ideas, but this one came easily, and it needed to be written and shared before the excitement left me. I still have a million other stories and ideas I want to get going on, but for now, I hope you enjoy this one. :)

Summary: One evening when Matt tries to surprise you with a home cooked dinner date, he's stunned by something you've done for him.

Warnings: Sweet adorable fluff. No use of (Y/N), but it does refer to the reader being feminine/female-identifying

Other Characters: Karen Page

Word Count: 1,158

“Hello?” you say over the phone, very clearly distracted by whatever is in front of you.

“Hi, angel,” Matt smiles, feeling a weight off of his shoulders when he finally hears your voice when you pick up your desk phone.

“Matt.” The way you say his name lights him up inside. It’s alway so warm, so inviting, so smooth—like when butter spreads perfectly even on a piece of toast. The gentleness of each consonant and vowel that escapes your lips never fails to chip away and brush off the stress of whatever is weighing him down; from his day job to his nightly activities, you—every last bit of you, is his solace.

“I was half afraid that I’d get your answering machine,” he breathes as he leans back in his chair, listening to how you move the receiver from one ear to the other.

“I’m sorry, Matt. Today has just been hectic. Meetings, email approvals, we rearranged some furniture because no one was responding to emails—.”

“Sweetheart, you don’t need to apologize.”

“I do if it means I worried you. I mean, I must have missed calls and texts on my cell from you if you resorted to my landline.”

“No, not worried. I was just curious if you wanted to go out to dinner tonight. Maybe try that new Italian place that opened up a few blocks from your apartment.”

“I didn’t know there was a new restaurant opening.”

“Yeah,” he lies. “It’s a small place. Intimate, nice.”

“Well, I don’t know how I could say no to that. It sounds like the perfect thing to make me forget today.”

“Take deep breaths, sweetheart. You’ll get through it. I’m here for you.”

“I know,” you breathe. “Listen, I need to get back to work, but I’ll see you tonight.”

“I’ll pick you up at six.”

“Perfect. I love you, Matt.”

“Love you, too.”

You exchange soft goodbyes before hanging up the phone, Matt sliding his cell back into the pocket of his slacks.

“Hey, Karen?” he calls out.

“Yeah?” she responds, sounding as if she’s lost in thought with whatever is at hand.

“What time is it?”

She pauses. “Almost 2:30.”

“You think that you and Foggy will be okay for the rest of the day?”

“I think so.”

“Great,” he says with a smile, standing up and putting on the suit jacket that was hanging on the back of his chair. “I’m heading out. I need to get some groceries to surprise my girlfriend.”

Matt undoes the last of your door’s locks as the bag of groceries rests on his hips, relieved when the heavy piece of wood starts to swing open. For as frustrating as your day was, Matt secretly hopes that you won’t come home early and catch him in the middle of his surprise; it took him a lot longer to get everything he needed at the store, throwing off his timing. He’d be lucky if he got everything plated by the time you got home. Matt lets out a deep breath as he places the bag of groceries on the counter and takes his glasses off, centering himself to focus on the plan and not let his race against the clock shake him too much. After hanging his jacket on the hooks by the door, he rolls up his sleeves and throws his tie over his shoulder before taking out his phone, tapping at the screen until he finds the recipe he saved for tonight.

As his phone reads off the list of ingredients, he feels over what he grabbed, cursing when he notices that he’s missing garlic powder.

“She has to have some,” he hums. He knows you like to cook, always eager to try new recipes that you find while scrolling on your phone, and therefore always getting new spices and ingredients to make sure your kitchen is stocked for whatever the next interesting dish brings. Lucky for Matt, you two are always over each other’s place, craving one another’s presence, so he knows your apartment almost as well as he knows his own. Turning around to the skinny cabinet where Matt knows you keep your spices, he opens it up and prepares his nose for the strong mix of smells that are about to hit him so he can sniff out what he needs. As his hand extends into the cabinet, what he doesn’t expect to find is small bumps over each and every label. It’s odd, but familiar. Grabbing one of the spices in the front, he carefully takes it off the shelf and runs his fingers over the bumps once more.

Nutmeg.

Matt lets out a shaky breath, tears stinging at his eyes. He reaches up for container after container, running his fingers over all of the labels, finding that he’s able to read them all. By the time Matt grabs the garlic powder, the cabinet is practically empty and he’s crying in the kitchen.

“Matt?” he hears you call tentatively. He didn’t even hear you come in, and now you’re at his side, wrapping him in a hug and holding him close to soothe him. God, he loves when you hold him. Call it being touch-starved, but nothing felt better to Matt than when you have your arms around him. Sure, being in your apartment is comforting—your smell surrounding him and engulfing his senses, but nothing was better than the actual thing, your body against his, skin to skin. “Matty, is everything okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” he sniffles, holding you close and kissing your forehead. “It’s just, uh, well this.”

You pull back slightly from his hug and wipe away some of his tears before peeking down to see what’s in his hands.

“Garlic powder?” you try. “Is it bad?”

“No, no,” he smiles, wiping away some stray tears with the heel of his hand. “It’s great.”

“I thought we were going out to dinner tonight. But with all my spices out, something tells me you might have fibbed.”

“I did fib. I wanted to surprise you with dinner, especially after hearing about your day, but you’re the one that surprised me.” Taking your hand, he gently guides your fingers over the label to where the braille is.

“Oh.” Matt listens to how the blood rushes to your cheeks and how your heart rate picks up. “The label.”

“The label,” he echos softly.

“I finally found a good braille label maker that I liked,” you begin to explain. “I mean, we’re always at each other’s place. I wanted to make my home feel a little more homey for you.”

“You really love me, huh?”

He listens to how you smile from ear to ear. “So much more than you’ll ever know, Matty.”

Putting the garlic powder down, he takes your face in his hands and pulls you in for a deep kiss, your arms happily snaking around him and holding him close.

Permanent Taglist: @majesticavenger​ @steampowerednightvaler​ @themusingsofmany @just-the-hiddles​ @toozmanykids​ @dangertoozmanykids101 @clints-worldavengers @theburningbookshop​ @itwasthereaminuteago​ @peter1ismybrother@hellskitchens-whore​​ @dpaccione​ @catnip987​

Matt Murdock Taglist: @two-unbeatable-beaters

#fic rec #matt murdock x reader

[beyondspaceandstars]

false god - m. murdock

a/n: sorry if this is bad i did my best because i have been thinking about him a lot warnings: cursing, smut, cunninglus (reader recieving), exhibition (kind of?) matt has an oral fixation, praise, premarital activites, reader is deaf and uses hearing aids but it's only mentioned once, if i missed any let me know! word count: 1.8k summary: the night before your wedding, you and matt are starving. you want to order room service, matt wants to eat out. pairing: matt x fem!reader now playing: false god - taylor swift "but we might just get away with it/religion's in your lips/even if it's a false god/we'd still worship/we might just get away with it/the altar is my hips"

When the devil finally proposed to you, he did it amongst flames and darkness.

…

Okay, maybe it wasn’t quite as dramatic as that.

Matt had proposed to you in the empty office of Nelson, Murdock & Page where you had met, with the lights turned down and candles lighting up the air around you. It was romantic, just as the two of you deserved.

Planning took a long time, too, with flowers, dresses and food taking over your every thought.

But now, all of that was done. There was nothing to be worried about anymore, as you and Matt specifically requested that if anything were to go wrong, Foggy and Karen would take care of it the best they could and not alarm the two of you unless someone was either dying or threatening to kill you.

So, in less than twenty-four hours, you would be Mrs. Matt Murdock, doomed to a life of lawyer jargon and patching up wounds, with no way out. The thought made you giddy.

The ceremony was going to be held at the church, but the pair of you had moved in with each other a long time ago, so it felt weird to try and avoid each other the night before the wedding and the morning in your own apartment. So, you and your future husband, as well as your small wedding party, had booked a few rooms in a hotel near the church.

You both had your respective ‘last hurrah’ a few weeks prior, so there was really nothing to do after the rehearsal dinner other than head to your room and relax, waiting for your alarm to go off to start getting ready.

You had decided to take it easy, enjoying a glass of wine after what you deemed to be an ‘everything’ shower, taking all the necessary precautions to feel like your best self on your wedding day. You had even bought yourself a nice silk pajama set, white, just like your rehearsal dress, and just like your wedding dress.

Your wedding dress hung freshly steamed in the closet of the hotel room, your shoes placed neatly beneath it. Your jewelry and accessories were laid out neatly on the dresser across from the bed. Your wedding ring sat in a box, inscribed with your husband’s name on it. He sat next to it, your name in braille on the inside of the ring.

In the morning, your mom, your sister, Karen, Marci and the woman who had been doing your hair and makeup for every major life event would be there, coffee in Karen’s hands, as your soon to be husband and his best friend got ready together, reminiscing on how they had landed themselves here.

Everything was perfectly set in place. Your job now was to just get married, and really, how hard could that be?

So, with your wine, you tuck yourself into bed with full intentions of getting a good night’s rest in your silky bridal pajamas.

Except, your job was almost done. There were no more seating arrangements to make, no one else to chase after for an RSVP, no more fittings, and no more menus to create to adhere to you and your soon to be husband’s particular tastes.

So, for the first time in weeks, you weren’t stressed at all.. Which left you with one conclusion:

You missed Matt.

You had seen him a few hours ago for the rehearsal dinner, but you were suddenly left with the conclusion that you were aching for the man you’d spend the rest of your life with.

Before you realized what you were doing, you were calling him.

On the second ring, he answered.

“Hey, sweetheart. Everything okay?”

“Hi. Everything’s great.”

A pause.

“Okay, do you want to talk about anything..?”

“There’s nothing else to do, Matty!” You’re out of bed and pacing now. “I’m stress free, and I can’t even be with you!”

You hear his laugh from the other side of the line, and it makes your heart flutter.

“We have the rest of our lives to spend the night together, baby.” He must have had a drink or two like you, because ‘baby’ is his tipsy nickname for you.

“I know, but I miss you now. And I’m hungry.” You tell him.

“Do you want to come over, order room service, and make out?”  He grins. “You just have to leave before midnight, it’s bad luck to see the bride the day of the wedding.”

You’re putting on your slippers when you pause and consider this for a minute.

“Matt, You’re blind.”

“And you’re deaf, don’t forget your hearing aids, baby.”

“How drunk are you right now? How would I be talking to you if I didn’t have them in right now?” You question.

A pause.

“I can’t wait to marry you.” His voice is softer now, and before you know it, you’re out the door and walking down the hallway.

He opens the door before you can knock, because of all the men in New York, you’ve landed the one with heightened abilities.

“Hi.” You grin, but he doesn’t respond. He simply leans down and picks you up bridal style, much to your objection. He kicks the door behind him closed before he carries you to the bed. He lays you down on it, finding himself on top of you.

“Silk?” He asks gently, his hand on your side.

“Mhm. Bridal pajamas.” You giggle. He just grins and leans in to kiss you. He pulls away from the kiss only to move to your jaw, and then down your neck. “Matthew, I want to order room service, I’m starved!”

His hands find their way underneath your top, his fingers beginning to creep up your skin.

“Me too. Been planning so much, I’ve hardly had the chance to be with you.. To touch you like this.”

You hum softly, but then your stomach rumbles loudly. So, when He lands on his knees in front of you and pulls you forward so that his head is between your thighs, he takes a second to lean over, searching for the room service menu before handing it to you, as well as the phone.

“What looks good, baby?” He asks, leaning his cheek against your thigh. Your pajama bottoms are shorts, so his warm cheek is a sharp contrast to your skin.

“What are you up to, Murdock?” You ask suspiciously, sitting up to look at the menu.

“Nothing, what kind of desserts do they have on there?”

What a weird, secretive man your future husband is.

“Uh, they have a crème brulee, apple pie, angel cake with chocolate ganache frosting—”

“Oo, can you order me one of those?” he asks, starting to kiss your thighs. Your face flushes.

“Sure, But I’m also gonna order the chocolate covered strawberries and the brownie al a mode—”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” He hums, “You just have to order it for me.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, but you go to dial the number for room service.

The woman on the other end of the phone is very nice.

As she begins to talk, Matt listens in, but mainly focuses on pulling down your shorts and panties, kissing along your thighs.

Your free hand goes to his hair to try and keep him from eating you out while you order room service, but he is a persistent man.

His lips meet your clit first, and he listens as you gasp, trying to finish the order that he had so kindly requested you to make. His tongue meets your folds, finally satiating the hunger he had for weeks leading up to this.

Your fingers grip his hair, only making him quicken his pace.

“Can I also get uhm—” You can barely think straight. “The uh, Fuck—” Matt’s nose rubs against your clit, his tongue moving at a devastating pace.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” The woman on the other line asks.

“Yeah, Sorry, stubbed my toe on the dresser,” You explain. Matt grins from his place between your thighs. His tongue drags up and down, as if he’s licking every inch of you, like maybe he’ll never be able to taste you again. “The angel cake, can we get two slices of that?” You ask, your fiancé’s pace increasing.

“Yeah, of course. Anything else?”

Matt takes only a moment to stop his assault on your pussy, to add, “The strawberries, baby,” before continuing to lap his tongue against your wet heat.

“The chocolate covered strawberries, and that’s it,” You finish.

“Alright, we have the brownie, the strawberries, and the cake..” She finishes. “What room?”

“Two twenty six,” You tell her. You roll your hips up to try and get more from Matt, but one hand leaves his grip on your thigh to hold your hips down. He knows you’re close, he always knows.

“Oh, are you the bride for tomorrow?” She asks.

This god damn wedding.

“Mhm,” You manage out, biting your lip to try and stop yourself from moaning.

“Congratulations!” She chirps, “Consider the room service complimentary, then,” She gifts.

“Thank you, very much.” You hum.

Matt stops his assault again.

“Ask her how long,” and then he’s back to tasting you, relentlessly.

“How long?” You ask, breathlessly.

“Should only be about ten, fifteen minutes.”

“Okay, thank you,” You say again, your grip on Matt’s hair tightening as you edge closer to your orgasm.

“Of course! Have a very happy wedding day!” And with that, she hangs up, and you toss the phone in the general direction of the machine.

“I’m gonna kill you,” You tell Matt, who stops quickly.

“Do you want to kill me, or do you want me to make you cum?” He asks. He looks really pretty between your thighs.

“Please, Matty..” You give in, and he smirks.

“That’s my good girl.” And he continues to suck your clit, edging you closer and closer. His pace quickens, somehow even more. You let out a soft moan that sounds like absolute heaven to Matt’s ears.

Your thighs are starting to shake because you’re so damn close. Matt keeps his licks consistent, waiting for your release. Your fingers tug on his hair, as you moan, finally hitting your release. He lets you ride out your high, licking all your cum up, making sure to suck up every last drop.

“So sweet and so good for me..” he hums, planting a soft kiss to your clit before pulling away, licking his lips.

“You’re such a dick..” You giggle.

He laughs, kissing your thigh.

“Did so well for me, Sweetheart..” He hums, leaning up to give you a soft kiss. When he pulls away, he slips your shorts back on, and looks like he has a new idea. “Ten to fifteen minutes, huh?”

“Mhm..” You’re just looking at him with such adoration.

“We could probably put that pretty mouth to good use while we wait, right?”

#fic rec #matt murdock x reader #smut

[beyondspaceandstars]

“Quit touching me, your feet are cold!” surprise me with a character :))

i'm kinda using your 'choose whatever character' requests to write for new people so this one is going to be for matt murdock

warnings: not proofread, use of pet names (baby)

❀ masterlist ❀

you were half-asleep when you cuddled closer to matt for warmth. when winter approached, the apartment always felt colder whether the heater was on or not. matt never noticed the temperature drop or if he did, he never commented on it, but it didn't matter. he was eternally warm anyway.

"quit touching me," he mumbled, nearly asleep as well, "your feet are cold."

you didn't move away. if anything, you moved closer. "i can't help that you have the internal body temperature of molten lava and i have one of ice."

you felt his chest fall with a sigh before he rolled away to get out of bed.

"what are you doing?" you asked while rubbing your eyes and propping yourself up on your elbow.

"saving myself," he said and walked out of the room. you were too tired to get up and follow him so you stayed where you were, rolling over onto his side of the bed because it was warmer.

after a little bit, matt strolled back in and went to the dresser, opening his sock drawer. you watched in curiosity as he grabbed a pair and walked over to you. he took a seat at the end of the bed and pulled the blanket back to grab your foot.

"they're like ice, baby. i don't know how you function," he told you while slipping one of his socks onto your foot. once it was fully on, the heel of the sock went a bit past your actual heel since his socks were a bit bigger than your own, but his socks were also thicker than yours. after he put the other sock on you, he put the blanket back over you and left the room once more, only to come back in with a mug in his hands.

"what's that?" you inquired when you scooted back to let him lay on his side again.

"tea," he stated when he got in bed with you again, pulling you to cuddle into his side. "to help warm you up."

you took the mug from his hands and took a sip, feeling the warm liquid fall down your throat. after a few more sips, its warmth spread throughout your chest. as you drank the tea, matt let his hand rub up and down your arm, the friction from it providing you some heat as well.

"thank you," you told him as you reached across him to place the mug on his nightstand. you, then, settled yourself against his chest and pressed a kiss to the patch of skin closest to your lips.

"are you any warmer?"

"yeah," you sighed, content.

he smiled, though you couldn't see it. "good."

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#fic rec #matt murdock x reader

[beyondspaceandstars]

new year's eve with matt

A/N - i’m sitting around waiting for midnight and just had some little thoughts about what it would be like to celebrate new years eve with boyfriend!matt murdock <3 this is a really short, quick, unedited thing i thought would be fun to do so i hope y'all enjoy! i am also a little tipsy writing this so hope it makes sense

I feel like new years with Matt would be small but so meaningful

at first, you two would be like "we're staying in" because, well, new york seems hectic on new years eve no matter where you are

but then by like 8pm, maybe even 9pm, Foggy and Karen come knocking on the door wondering where you guys are and what you're doing

then you two have no choice but to give in and next thing you know you're squeezing into the crowded bar, sipping beers and taking shots every now and then

as the drinks and minutes flow, i think Matt would become more and more loving, physically

something about him screams that he's a happy, touchy drunk. a couple of heavy drinks in him and he's headed straight for you to caress your waist or draw patterns on the back of your hand

he does this relentlessly as you try to kick ass in pool no matter how many times you playfully reprimand him for his wandering hands

overall, going out is nice. you get to catch up with everyone, have some drinks, and get ready to bring in the new year

right before the new year rings in, though, you and Matt would slip away from the crowd

it'd be Matt who would initiate this little sneaking away but you happily went along with it

"it's a little stuffy in here isn't it?" Matt would ask, his words saying so much yet so little. you couldn't help but giggle. "it is, honey."

Matt would eagerly grab your hand and avoid all questions or looks as he'd drag you out into the cool, fresh winter new york night. there were a few other bustling around but mostly, it was strangely calm for the city during the holidays. but you'd take it over anything else any day

you two would scurry along to some alleyway and Matt would hand you a beer he had swiped from the bar before stepping out. it was adorable and hilarious.

"you're stealing now, Murdock? that's not what good, catholic boys do." "actually, I believe the words you're looking for are 'thank you.'"

you'd lean against the brick wall of some building as you'd open your beers. the minutes ticked down slowly to midnight. Matt would probably be very aware of how close it was to the new year just from hearing the chanting countdown across the city. but he wouldn't say anything to you.

"how long until midnight?" he'd ask you in a very husky whisper as he leaned into you. you'd check your phone and say, "under a minute, I think." but you couldn't pay much attention. you were so caught up in the buzz from the alcohol and the high from your boyfriend.

this wasn't your first new year together but something about it felt different and right. this was gonna be a good year. you sensed it with every bone in your body.

your relationship was at its best and you were beyond thankful to get to spend another year with him. it was almost unbelievable how perfect life had become.

Matt would soon tune back into the countdown and begin whispering it in your ear, following along as the entire city seemed to scream out numbers in synchronous chanting

"five... four... three..."

but before he could even get to one, you'd pull him in for a kiss - a very passionate new years kiss. and Matt certainly wouldn't protest.

yells, cheers, and fireworks popped off all around you two but none of it mattered at all. you didn't hear any of it as you were completely engulfed in your boyfriend.

you'd literally end one year and begin the next wrapped in Matt's hold, completely loved by him, and what could be better than that?

finally, after an intense minute or so, you'd force yourself to pull away for quick air. "happy new year," you'd mutter. Matt would chuckle and say, "happy new year, sweetheart."

#bringing this back bc I wrote it last NYE while very very drunk #and it’s not half bad it’s kind of cute :) #happy new year’s eve!! 🩷🩷