Heyy
I’ve always have had a weak spot for sensory deprived matt (like when he looses his hearing). The angst and neediness that may come from it. So maybe for an idea what about a matt x reader…Let’s say the weeks or days that it takes for him to recover and how that affects him and the relationship as he’s not used being the one in need of help and is momentarily no longer Daredevil, as well as all of the complications not hearing may entail.
(Also unrelated but if you could add a cat as a pet just like a little detail it would be fantastic jsjs )
Thanks !
Ask and ye may receive! Sorry this took a month to get out, but I'm bad at prioritizing my hobbies and even worse at editing my fics once I finish writing them (this took like a week and a half to edit because my brain is dumb lasjdfljs)
I really hope you enjoy this fic (and yes I included a cat!!)
And as for the other requests I got, don't worry, they're still handing around. I started writing the next chapter of Sugar and want to finish that up before jumping to the next request!
Masterlist
Matt Murdock/GN!Reader
Word Count: 3.7k
Matt refused to let go of you in those first few days. The world didn’t feel right, he said. You made it better, letting him know he was still alive—that you were still alive. He would press his ear to your chest, begging for the sound of your heartbeat.
Matt thought he died after the homemade bomb went off next to his head. Maybe he had finally died in an explosion, no underwater cavern-turned-sewer saving him. Maybe the shrapnel got him. A piece of metal penetrating his suit and making it to his heart or brain.
But no. He was still alive. Everything was just…gone. Or rather, it felt like it was.
He’d experienced it before, the loss of his hearing. This time was different, though. Age or one too many hits to the head, neither of you had figured it out. All you knew was that it had been days, and nothing was as it should have been for Matt.
His hearing wasn’t gone completely, as what happened before, but it was so dulled, to him, it was like he was practically deaf. Touch and smell were still sensitive, but their intensity felt lessened in the face of losing yet another of his senses.
It left the world around him feeling empty.
“I have to go to work, Matty,” you said gently, stroking a hand through his hair.
Matt sighed and held you tighter. He hadn’t even heard your alarm go off. No matter how deeply he slept before, he could always hear the tinny tune of a violin playing through cracking speakers. Now, there was nothing unless he was already on the verge of waking up.
“Can’t you stay?” Matt asked, refusing to remove his weight from your body, still pinning you to the bed.
“It’s been a week,” you explained, regret filling your voice. “I have to go back.”
You stayed with him because he needed you. The bomb—and the fight leading up to the explosion—did enough damage to his body that you wouldn’t have left him alone in the first place. Adding his dulled hearing meant you definitely weren’t going to leave him.
But it had been a week, and Matt’s external injuries were healing well. However, there didn’t seem to be any sign that his hearing would return. As far as you could figure since Matt barely had a basis for comparison—he has had heightened sense for the majority of his life and barely remembers what it was like not being able to hear a heartbeat from across the room—his hearing was like that of a non-enhanced person.
At this point, it could very well be Matt’s new normal.
Both of you agreed that he shouldn’t go to the hospital. Very few things could make Daredevil seek professional treatment, and considering he was still breathing, he wasn’t going anywhere. And if he did go, there would be the trouble of trying to convince a doctor that Matt has hearing loss when he can still hear you speaking at a normal volume across the open spaces of your apartment.
He was also holding out hope that his hearing would return to normal. Temporary hearing loss from loud sounds is well documented. In another week, Matt may very well be back in the suit, counting the number of goons in a warehouse through the walls.
But nothing was certain.
You tried shifting out from under Matt, but he squeezed you and whispered, “Please.”
“You’re not helpless, Matt.” You loved your boyfriend but couldn’t stand letting him mope around the apartment with you for another day, praying something would change. He needed to try. Maybe if you weren’t around, he finally would.
Matt didn’t move for a moment, still lying on top of you. Then, he silently lifted himself off you and rolled over, burying his face in the pillow on his side of the bed.
“Matt?” you called, seeing the tension in his shoulders. You hated seeing him like this.
“Go,” he said, voice flat, almost lifeless. You touched his shoulder, but he flinched at the contact.
You sighed, giving him one last look before climbing out of bed to start getting ready for work.
“I’ll let Foggy and Karen know you know you’re still not feeling well,” you told him just before you left. You had walked back into the bedroom and stood at his side, giving him another chance to speak to you.
Still, he said nothing. In fact, you were sure he was pretending to be asleep.
Regardless, you leaned down and kissed his cheek. “I’ll call you later, okay?”
With that, you left Matt. Alone.
When he was younger, Matt was used to being alone. As he got older, though, it became a thing of the past. Even if one of his friends wasn’t nearby, there would inevitably be some noise that rose above the din, breaking through the unintelligible cacophony of voices and sounds to remind him that there were always people around.
Now, without you in the apartment for the first time since the explosion, it was as if he was the only person left in the world.
He was almost afraid to leave the bed. What if he tried stepping out of the room and fell into the void? What if this was a special Hell just for him? The fear was irrational, he knew, but he came close to death so many times now a part of him would always wonder if he truly was still alive.
But then he heard something he couldn’t ignore: the very distinct yowl of a very persistent cat. It was the sound she usually made when begging for food.
You must have forgotten to feed her before you left.
Whatever he thought of himself, of you, then, didn’t matter. Beans, the short-haired calico you and Matt adopted a couple of years ago, let out a particularly annoyed screech from the bedroom doorway, and Matt knew she’d be in his face in a moment if he didn’t follow her wishes.
After filling her bowl, he lay on the couch, not having the energy to go back to the bedroom. A few minutes later, after the crunching of the kibble stopped, Matt’s breath got knocked out of him when Beans launched herself onto his stomach.
Afraid of knocking her off, he held still while Beans walked across his body. She took a place on his pillow, wrapped herself around his head, and started purring.
At least the cat wanted to stay with him.
When you came home, you didn’t know what you’d find. Matt hadn’t answered your call at lunch, though you weren’t surprised, not after what you said and how he reacted.
You certainly didn’t expect to see him sitting on the floor, back against the couch, playing with Beans. He held a plastic stick in his hand, making her chase the bundle of feathers attached to it with an elastic string.
“How are you feeling?” you asked carefully, stopping next to Matt and interrupting playtime. “You didn’t answer the phone earlier.”
Matt let the toy drop, Beans mauling it immediately. “Fine.”
You waited for more. He knew you were waiting. After a moment of nothing but the sound of Beans dragging the toy out of Matt’s hand and across the floor, you gave up and went to the bedroom to change.
During dinner, the air between you and Matt remained tense.
“I’m pretty sure Foggy and Karen are going to break down the door tomorrow if they don’t hear from you,” you said, trying to prompt Matt into some sort of conversation. This past week, he hadn’t wanted you more than an arm’s length away, needing to feel you, hear your voice. Now, he was doing his best not to acknowledge your existence.
“They won’t need to. I’m going back into the office.” There wasn’t any feeling to his words.
“You are?” you asked, surprised. When you last tried having that talk the other day, he shut you down, saying he couldn’t.
“I’m not helpless,” Matt sneered, throwing your words from this morning back at you and making you flinch. He didn’t notice, though, unable to perceive other people as well as he once did.
You said nothing more, and Matt got up from the table, done with dinner and the conversation.
That night, in bed, he stayed on his side.
“Matt,” you called softly. You reached out to touch his back. “What I said this morning—”
“Forget it,” he said, cutting you off. He didn’t want your apology. “Let’s just go to sleep.”
Maybe you should have tried harder to talk to him, to apologize for hurting him, but you didn’t. Instead, you rolled over so the two of you would be back to back and fell asleep.
Try as he might, Matt couldn’t focus. More than once, Karen or Foggy caught him losing himself in the middle distance. Like the past week, Matt was prone to sitting in silence, unmoving, unthinking, waiting for his hearing to return. While a fine thing to do at home, it caused concern and frustration at the office when his partners were trying to get him up to speed on their cases.
Though not usually one to coddle, Foggy asked if Matt was even ready to return to work.
“Maybe you should go home for the day, and we’ll pick this back up tomorrow,” Foggy said after the fourth attempt to regain Matt’s attention.
Matt gritted his teeth. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t have t—” Karen started.
“I can do this,” Matt insisted, not letting her finish.
Nothing more was said on the topic, and Matt was able to keep from falling into the void. He didn’t let himself stop, moving from one task to another almost manically. He didn’t even realize the end of the day arrived until Karen touched his shoulder, urging him to go home.
And then Matt was lost again.
It took him longer than usual to get home that day. Not because he lost his way but because he knew when he finally made it home, the whole day would repeat again.
He’d get up, go to work, come home, and still not be able to hear as he should.
Most importantly, he’d have to forgo being Daredevil.
To Matt, this didn’t feel like a natural end to the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, making it hard to reconcile that that part of his life was over. There was still so much he had to do, so much he would be capable of doing. If he had the full scope of his abilities.
He wasn’t ready for it to end.
“Hey,” you said when Matt finally walked through the door. You’d been waiting for him, had even left work early on the chance he did too so you could be with him. You didn’t call when he didn’t arrive at his usual time. You weren’t sure he would have answered if you had.
Since then, you’ve been nervously awating his return. With how he took your comment the previous day and his brushing off your attempt to apologize, you weren’t sure what he’d be like today.
“How was work?” you asked when he didn’t respond, trying to sound like it was any other day and that his frigidness didn’t bother you.
“Fine,” Matt sighed, giving no sign of elaborating.
“You wanna help with dinner?” you asked tentatively, unable to parse out his mood and not wanting to answer any potential resentment with a negative response.
Matt nodded, subdued, and moved toward the kitchen, not bothering to change.
You wished you knew how to help him.
As it neared two in the morning, something rustled in the other room.
Living in New York City, having a cat, and being with Matt made you immune to certain sounds at all hours of the night, but this past week, you seem to have gotten used to certain sounds not coming from inside your apartment.
You knew immediately what it was before you even opened your eyes. You thought nothing of it at first and were tempted to nuzzle deeper into your pillow. It took a moment for recent memory to come back to you, reminding you that you shouldn’t be hearing the sounds of Matt’s suit being dragged out of its hiding place.
“What are you doing?” you asked after stepping out of the bedroom and spying Matt in the dim light from the windows pulling his suit from his father’s old trunk. He jumped, dropping his suit and turning to face you. You’d never been able to sneak up on Matt before.
“I need to go,” Matt said, voice stern.
“And what do you think will happen?” You stepped over to him and crossed your arms.
“I’ll be fine.” He’s told you that multiple times, and you didn’t believe him for a second.
“You didn’t even notice I was behind you. Apparently, you didn’t even hear me get out of bed, and that mattress creaks like nobody’s business.”
Matt clenched his jaw, his fists twitching at his side. “I can do this. I know I can. Maybe if I just—”
“Just what?” you interrupted. “If you just got your head knocked around a couple more times, your hearing would come back?” When he didn’t respond, you assumed that was precisely what he intended to do.
Your heart started to race. You worried about Matt as it was when he was in perfect health. You didn’t want to think about what would happen to him if he went out as a regular man.
“Matt, I can’t let you do that,” you said gently.
“You can,” he argued, fist clenched in the top half of his suit that he still held out in front of him.
Stepping forward, you placed your hands on his, subtly trying to loosen his grip.
“It’s too dangerous.” You shook your head. “Maybe in the future, once you’ve had more time to adapt. But right now? It’s just not a good idea.”
Matt was frozen in place. You waited, the seconds ticking by, wanting to see what he would do.
Then the suit slipped from Matt’s fingers, falling in a heap back into the trunk.
If Matt had been cold to you before, the following few days were worse.
He’d managed to wake before you and practically run from the apartment as soon as he realized you were awake. Matt has never done anything to hurt you. Sure, there were small things here and there, as with most couples, but never something like this. Never something so intentional.
Was he trying to hurt you, or was he just trying to protect himself? Did he think he wouldn’t be reminded of everything that’s changed if he stayed away from you?
Either way, you knew you needed to talk, yet some part of you wanted to wait for Matt to come to you. But Matt was as stubborn as you were, and you didn’t want to lose him more than you already had.
“Are you going to talk to me today?” you asked over dinner, letting some of the hurt you’d been feeling slip through.
For the most part, Matt had avoided saying more than a few words to you. At night, you both were careful to stay on your own sides of the bed.
It was like living with a roommate who didn’t particularly care for you.
“There’s not much to say,” Matt said, focusing intently on his food. “Work wasn’t anything special today.”
He had actually made dinner that night, volunteered for it, in fact. You had hoped that meant he would be more willing to talk to you, sort out whatever it was he felt you were the cause of.
Apparently, you were wrong.
“Do you blame me for what happened to you?” If he wouldn’t bring it up, that meant you had to.
Matt shook his head. “You weren’t even there.”
“So you’re upset because I stopped you from going out the other night,” you concluded.
“No,” Matt said immediately, but the words lacked any sort of feeling.
“Then what? What is it? Because you’re not acting like the Matt I know.”
He was still. Then, quietly, “Because I’m not.”
He’s not that man anymore, and Matt thought, not for the first time, that you didn’t deserve to be with something as disappointing as him.
You had been talking to Karen and Foggy. Matt didn’t need his enhanced hearing to figure that out. He didn’t know what the three of you talked about, but he knew he was the general topic.
His friends tried harder to get him to go out, make plans, but he always declined, coming up with one excuse or another.
It went on like that for another week. Matt tried to make more of an effort with you and Foggy and Karen, but he still wasn’t his usual self. He wasn’t who he was before and didn’t know if he would ever be again.
He didn’t know what to do at all. He was just going through the motions, and because of that, he shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was when you finally said something.
Matt had been sitting at the kitchen table, the paperwork he wasn’t reading as carefully as he should have been spread across it. Truthfully, Beans was making more use of it as a bed than Matt was after he shooed her off his laptop.
When you walked up to him, Beans immediately awoke, releasing a chirp and standing. She hopped from the table to wind herself between your legs. She had always favored you but had been sticking closer to Matt the past couple of weeks as if sensing his distress.
“Do you want me to leave?” you asked without preamble, and Matt froze. Before, he would have sensed the stuttering of your heart, the nervous shaking in your hands. He would have had a warning before you worked up the courage to say something that would be difficult.
This time, though, he was blind-sided.
“What?” was the only thing he could make come out of his mouth.
Matt didn’t want you to leave. Yes, he was a disappointment to you and knew you needed better. But he loved you, and he was still as selfish as ever.
But…if you no longer loved him, if you wanted to leave…
“No, of course not,” he finally said. He licked his lips, a nervous habit. “But…”
“But what?” you asked sharply.
Were your arms crossed? Or your hands on your hips? Were you running a hand over your face in anger? Frustration? Was your chest tight with fear of what he would say? Matt can still figure out some movements, can still feel the shift in the air, but some things, especially when he’s stressed, are lost to him.
“But I won’t stop you...if you want to leave,” he finished quietly.
You didn’t move; didn’t make a sound. Matt strained his ears, focused entirely on you, trying to pick on anything.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” you spit. You stepped toward Matt, and Beans skittered away, her claws scratching on the floor.
“I’m not going to make you stay with me. Now now that I…that I’m like this.”
Will you yell? You never have before, but he’s different now. Maybe you are, too.
“Matt.” His name is an exasperated sigh on your lips. Then your hands are on his face, gently cradling it like he was a precious thing. “You’re not a different person, even though you’re acting like it. And I’m not dating you because of what you could hear.”
Matt shakes his head. “I’m not what I once was. I’m not—” He choked on the words. “I’m not Daredevil.”
It was the first time he said it out loud.
“Just because you’re not Daredevil doesn’t mean you can’t help people. You were a lawyer long before you put on that suit. That doesn’t stop just because you put it away.”
That was true. Matt had been Daredevil for so long that sometimes it was hard for him to think beyond it.
Your hands dropped from his face, and Matt threw a hand out, not wanting you to leave him. His hand landed on your waist and twisted into your shirt to keep you close. He had lied when he said he wouldn’t stop you.
“I’ll tell you now, though,” you started. You didn’t move away, but neither did you touch him. “You can’t keep acting like you have been. You can’t keep shutting me out. Can’t keep shutting Karen and Foggy out. You need to start living again.”
Matt went quiet.
“So, what are you going to do?” you asked after a moment.
“You’re not going to leave?” Matt asked, his voice soft and quiet, almost like he didn’t want you to hear.
You sighed, and Matt’s heart seized until he heard the light, teasing tone of your voice.
“Depends on what your answer is.”
Matt pulled you into him so he could wrap his arms around you. You didn’t object and let him hold you.
You were right.
Matt was pushing everyone and everything away again. He had done it before, and it didn’t work out. His friends wouldn’t let him. He should have known better than to think they would let him slip away.
“I’m sorry I…” He wasn’t sure how to put it. “I’m sorry I stopped trying.” Then he corrected himself. “I’m sorry I gave up.”
Your arms settled around his shoulders. “That I wasn’t there for you enough.”
Matt started to shake his head. He had been acting like the world had ended. Like a child withdrawing from the world when it got too scary. Your words were the push he needed.
“I could have done something better,” you said, already knowing he would try to shoulder all the blame. “You’re allowed to tell me I need to do better. Just like I’m allowed to do the same. You don’t have to do it, but I still get to say it.”
Matt gave a small smile, the tugging on his lips an unfamiliar feeling.
This felt…normal.
“We’ll both do better. Deal?” he asked, a lightness returning to him, missing since the night of the explosion.
“Deal,” you answered and kissed him.
