Hi, may I request Matt Murdock x reader. reader is insecure of her voice. She doesn't think it's feminine enough.
“why’d you stop reading?”
matt stares up, his eyes looking past you and at the ceiling. the lack of focus there shows you his confusion, previously hidden behind relaxed, closed lids. you sigh as you brush your hand through his hair and move your book to the side.
“it’s nothing…” you attempt.
but matt’s too perceptive for his own good. he detects the note of solemnity all too easily. his hand on your thigh squeezes softly at the muscle, kneading his way to your knee.
“talk to me,” he presses on.
you don’t want to make a thing out of this. but this morning, you heard your voice echo back to you during a work call, and then in a recording during one of karen’s stories on social media. so in this moment, you’re not up for your usual activity with matt, where you read to him while he relaxes and listens. however, you can’t hide anything from your boyfriend. he’ll ask again and then he’ll try to dissect to find the issue himself rather than let you leave it alone.
“it’s my voice,” you mutter bitterly.
“it’s lovely,” he says without hesitation. you bite your lip for a moment and wonder if it’s possible he has some kind of super ability to read your mind and know you so well.
“it’s… deeper,” you go on. it’s not faint and featherlike, naturally resting into a lower octave when you speak.
“and…?”
this is where you scramble. you’re trapped beneath his head in your lap, shifting uncomfortably, but matt doesn’t move from his spot. he finds your hand in his hair and he intertwines your fingers together, offering his thumb running along yours. more reassurance to guide you forward.
“and… it’s not… it’s not that feminine, i guess,” you mumble. if his hearing wasn’t what it was, he might’ve missed it.
his eyebrows crease inwards.
“it’s automatically feminine ‘cause it’s yours,” he replies back, looking more determined.
“don’t… you know what i mean,” you huff. the gender constructs thing being made up is not what you want to hear. it still doesn’t adhere to other voices that are lighter and softer, regardless of what it means to be masculine or feminine.
“sweetheart,” he says with a sigh. he guides your hand to his mouth and he kisses your palm in a few places, his eyes slipping closed.
“your voice is wonderful. it eases me… it’s rich… it’s pleasant… it’s my favorite sound,” he says honestly. you want to pull away and tell him he’s wrong, but he sits up, places your hand over his heart next.
“i love your voice.”
“matty—”
“stop it, i’m serious. i know what you think, but it’s not what i think, okay? it’s feminine to me and more than that.”
he can’t see that pout on your lips but he grins like he does.
“baby, keep reading. i love listening to you for a reason. i’m with you for all of it. for us, our connection, your voice included,” he continues to reassure you as he kisses your knuckles between his words. you steadily smile and resettle back into position.
matt places his head back onto your thighs. he goes back to relaxing as he listens to you read your book of choice. he enjoys this part immensely. you may have your insecurities about your voice, but to him, it’s his hymn.
“It was always a strange thing, coming home. Coming home meant that you had, at one point, left it and, in doing so, irreversibly changed. How odd, then, to be able to return to a place that would always be anchored in your notion of the past. How could this place still be there, if the you that once lived there no longer existed?
Yet at the same time, in complete contradiction, seeing that said place had changed in your absence was nothing if not surreal.”
- Dex, A Prayer for the Crown-Shy by Becky Chambers
