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glowstick-lesbian · 3 months ago

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Slow Dancing - Matt Murdock

summary: Matt is trying to teach you how to slow dance, but he just wants to show you how beautiful you are.

word count: 1.1k

warning: oral f receiving - that's all just lots of fluff!! 18+ MDNI

note: in a fluffy mood, hope you all enjoy :)

“Yeah, and then you just-” Matt says, one hand on your waist and the other confidently holding your hand. He lets go of your waist to spin you around, the sound of your giggles making his heart skip a beat.

He can hear the way your heart has slowed. Usually it’s much faster, things making you nervous or worry a lot - but he always noticed that when it was just you and him, the world seemed to slow down. It was the same for him - his mind usually focused on a new case, someone else he needed to go and save, but with you it felt like everything stopped.

He had a gala coming up, something to do with some fancy new client or something - you didn't quite understand why he needed to go, never mind take you along with him. But you didn't know how to dance still, and Matt was determined to show you how - so here you both were, slow dancing in his loft under the beaming red lights of the billboard outside.

“You’re much better than me,” You laugh, looking up at him as he sways still with you pulled close to him, “I don't wanna embarrass you in front of that many people.” And Matt immediately laughs - and for a second you wonder if he's about to tell you that you shouldn't come anymore, until he says “You think i won't embarrass myself anyway?”

The giggle he hears you let out makes him smile even wider, hearing your happiness always sets something off inside of him. He would do anything to make you smile, even if it means embarrassing himself in front of a lot of rich people.

“I love you.” You speak, and your voice is suddenly a mere whisper as you look up at him, and realise both of you have stopped dancing, and you’re just holding each other. “I love you too.” He replies, and again things are slow, nothing else matters and in a moment of such a small piece of affection you wonder how your feelings for Matt got so strong. Everything about him was so perfect, you often wondered how he was all yours.

He raises his hands to your face, pulling you closer and letting his lips meet yours - and it's like the first time you kissed all over again.

“You’re so… beautiful,” He speaks, lips still touching yours as he starts to lead you toward his bedroom, “My perfect girl.”

Matt picks you up by your thighs, still in his suit from work, you in one of his shirts from your day at home. When he throws you onto the bed, your head hitting the pillows, you let out a little laugh - something that sends a shock right to his core. Matt would give anything to make you laugh forever, make you sound like an angel's song underneath him all night.

“Matt-” You start, sitting up onto your knees as he stands at the end of the bed, beginning to unbutton his shirt, desperate to see some skin. “Need you so bad, sweetheart.” He whispers, the sound of his belt unbuckling making you clench your thighs together in an act of need for friction.

He finally undresses himself, crawling above you on the bed and meeting your hips with his, grinding downwards and feeling the heat coming from your core. Matt groans above you, his tongue meeting yours, the kiss deepening as a primal need for release makes its way through the air.

He crawls between your thighs, nestling himself in the comfort. Pulling your underwear to the side, he lets out a small moan at the scent of you taking over him. “P-please Matt, I-” You speak, breathing getting more erratic by the minute, the desperate need to feel his mouth.

“Use your words, tell me what you need.” He says, voice trailing as he leaves kisses on your thighs, his stubble tickling your skin gently.

“Need you to make me come, please.” You’re almost begging, looking down to see his brown hair tucked tightly between your legs, and you can tell he is relishing in your reactions, he loves the way you react to him every time - the way you speak, moan, the way he can so easily make you scream. “Like this?” Matt asks, finally letting his tongue slip through his lips and toward your folds, immediately moaning at the way you taste.

A moan leaves you suddenly, grateful to feel his touch again where you so desperately need him. Kitten licks on your clit making your legs shake, his calloused hands holding them open to keep you from taking away what he needs so desperately. Matt is listening to every sound leaving your mouth, nothing else matters in this moment apart from him and you.

“Fuck, y’always taste so good.” He’s almost growling, speaking to himself as his tongue delves deeper, entering your hole and listening to the way your heart starts to race when you feel a coil turning just below your stomach, such a familiar feeling from him. Matt places two fingers at your entrance, letting you feel the way he teases you with them before they enter you, the sounds of your slick amongst your moans as you realise how full you always feel with him.

“Oh-Hmph, Matt yes!” You shout, your chest rumbling with how loud he always makes you, his fingers bending and hitting that spot inside you.

His tongue is teasing at your clit again, a mix between strong and soft licks as Matt listens to your breathing - he knows exactly how to get the biggest reactions from you, and he loves doing exactly that. “Come for me, sweetheart,” He’s speaking between sucks on your clit, “Let me hear you. Need to hear those beautiful sounds.”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you feel the break, your orgasm washing over you in a wave - your ears muffling themselves as Matt feels you clench around his fingers, fighting to keep up with the way your body convulses with the force.

“You are the most beautiful person I've ever met.” He’s still complimenting you, and you can’t believe how lucky you got with someone like Matt - someone so kind, understanding - someone who is willing to teach you how to slow dance in his living room.

“You can’t see me, how do you know I'm beautiful?” You laugh, looking at him as he smiles, getting comfortable next to you and pulling you into his warm chest. “I don’t need to, it’s obvious.” He’s grinning, he knows exactly what to say all the time.

“You still need to teach me how to dance, we didn’t get very far into the lesson.” You mention, realising that the gala isn’t that far away and you still might embarrass Matt with your two left feet.

“There’s something else I'd like to do first…” He laughs, rolling on top of you and basking in the way you laugh at his words.

tags --

@lambmurdock @parker-murdock @silas-aeiou @blushingrn @audreyclimbs @pupmurdock @millennial-birkin

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glowstick-lesbian · 3 months ago

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Tell Me

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader Word Count: 2.3k [Tuna-Tober Masterlist]

Tuna-Tober Prompt: “Why? Why do you love me?”

Warnings/tags: angst, emotional hurt/comfort, almost breakup

Summary: Matt has been acting cold for the past couple of weeks–ever since you told him you loved him.

a/n: Of course Matt was the first one who came to my mind for this prompt. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

“We’re done,” Matt stated. “That’s it. I can’t do this any longer.”

A thick and palpable tension hung in the air at Matt’s words, a heaviness so pervasive that you didn't need his heightened senses to feel it filling the apartment. Standing beside the leather couch, your arms tightly wrapped around yourself as if they alone were the only thing holding you together. Heart pounding rapidly inside of your chest, it felt close to bursting straight out if you dared to move your arms even an inch.

Across the room, Matt stood in front of the large living room windows with his back turned to you. The light from the billboard across the street washed the front of him in a dark crimson, casting looming shadows along his tense and rigid form. His hands were situated on his hips, fingers digging so sharply into his dress pants that they were pulling the fabric even more taut around his waist. Everything about his posture–from his clenched jaw to his squared shoulders–felt as if he was intentionally shutting you out as well as keeping a physical distance between the pair of you.

This is it, you thought. This is where he finally tries to push me away.

You’d known Matt for a while now. Long enough to know how he operated when things became just a bit too much for him or if someone grew a bit too close. Over time you’d slowly learned the signs of when he’d start to close himself off, beginning to read him sometimes better than he thought he could even read you.

It had been ten months since you’d met Matt while working on an article for The Bulletin. You’d interviewed him about a case that his firm had won and the pair of you had steadily and easily grown closer together after that initial encounter. Neither of you had been able to stay away from the other. You’d long since been past the point of just dating and occasionally sleeping together–you’d been an official couple for months now. You had clothing hanging in his closet and you knew exactly where he stored the red Daredevil suit that he donned most evenings. You knew about his past from the many late nights he'd opened up to you either after a rough patrol as the Devil or a case he was particularly fired up over.

But lately Matt had started to become prickly around you. Constantly on edge. Canceling dates and intentionally trying to avoid you. He was often gone in the mornings the few times you’d stayed over at his apartment, not even giving you his usual goodbye kiss before he left. He hadn’t invited you over as frequently either because most nights now he told you that he planned to stay late at the office before running out to deal with one thing or another as Daredevil.

This had all started just over two weeks ago. Right around the time you’d first told him you loved him. He’d seemed off that night, too. You remembered how he’d suddenly grown quiet in bed, his expression shifting to something impossible to read as he almost immediately shut you out. You’d assured him that you hadn’t expected him to say it back in the moment–and you’d meant that. You knew he’d heard the truth in the firm beat of your heart. Because you loved Matt. You knew him opening his heart up to let someone in was not something he did easily, and you were prepared to continue proving to him that you weren’t about to disappear from his life like he seemed to secretly fear.

You’d long since wondered if his sudden coldness was some sort of a test, one he himself wasn’t even aware he was putting you through. As if he expected you to leave at the first sign of difficulty in the relationship which had otherwise been fairly smooth. You’d always encouraged open communication between you both–something else you were aware he struggled with–but you’d always been patient and understanding with him, which was what you’d tried to be over these past couple of weeks.

Until this very moment. Because right now you did not fully understand why Matt had just told you that he couldn’t continue the relationship anymore. You could feel the tears building in your eyes as you stared at the back of his navy blue dress shirt, your eyes fixed on the wrinkles that formed throughout his work day. In your chest, you could feel your heart teetering on the verge of shattering, ready to break into pieces with only a few more words from his mouth. You found yourself wondering if Matt would be able to hear your heart break.

But you didn't want to let him go without a fight. You didn’t want to lose him. You loved him far too much to let him self-sabotage the relationship you'd both created and poured yourselves into over the past few months without even trying to get through to him first.

“There’s no way you mean any of that, Matt,” you told him, shaking your head and ignoring the sting of tears in your eyes. “I don’t believe you.”

His head snapped to the side when you'd finally spoken, the sharp angle of his profile swathed in red just over the top of his broad shoulder. His jaw was set firm, but even in the light from the billboard you could see the muscle jumping in his cheek.

“And what makes you think that?” he asked, a rough edge to his words.

“Because,” you answered, taking a small, hesitant step towards him and noticing the way he flinched. “I know you. I think you’re just trying to hurt me to avoid the perceived hurt you think is bound to happen if you continue getting close to me. Growing comfortable in our relationship. Because you think I’m going to leave you. You think it's inevitable.”

The muscle jumped in Matt's cheek again, the only movement you caught on his otherwise immobile body. Pressing your lips together, you tried to fight the way they'd begun to quiver. In this moment, it felt more like you were approaching a feral cat than a grown man–a feeling you'd experienced a few times with Matt in the past. And you knew right now that if you showed him any sign of weakness he'd pounce on it.

“You're scared,” you continued slowly, taking another cautious step towards him. “I think you're terrified of how great things have been between us. I think you feel as if you don't deserve the happiness I've seen written on your face when we're together.”

Something like an agitated growl rumbled in his chest at your words. Not exactly a noise of disagreement, but also not exactly the sound of a warning. It sounded more alarmed than anything, which had you feeling more confident that you'd just struck the exact problem he'd created in his mind.

“But you're wrong,” you assured him firmly. “You deserve love and happiness, Matthew. And I intend to be here with you. I will happily spend every day right by your side helping you until you see it for yourself.”

You took another cautious and careful step towards him, but you stopped moving the second you saw his lip curl back into something like a snarl. You could see his eyes narrow at you even behind the lenses of his red glasses just before he spoke.

“Why?” he growled. “Tell me why.”

Swallowing hard, your hands nervously curled up inside the sleeves of your sweatshirt. “Why what?” you whispered.

“Why do you love me?” he demanded. “Why? How could you possibly love me?”

Freezing on the spot as your breath hitched, confusion briefly washed over you. Despite having now learned his strange behavior had indeed been brought about by you saying that you loved him for the first time weeks ago, it had taken you entirely off guard that he'd wanted an actual explanation as to why you did. But then again, that really shouldn't have surprised you quite so much considering you knew just how unlovable he thought he was. And you weren’t going to let an opportunity to tell him how you really felt slip between your fingers.

“Because you have the biggest heart I've ever seen, Matthew,” you began softly, emotion thick in your voice. “You keep it buried deep in your chest, hiding it from everyone, but I see it. Every time you come home with another banana bread or casserole dish and an excited story about how you helped someone in this city who'd otherwise have been looked over because they couldn’t afford good legal representation. I see it when you come home late at night bruised, exhausted, and bleeding but grinning in triumph as you tell me who you saved. I see it whenever you just simply look at me.”

The snarl that had initially curled his lips back gradually slipped off of his face while you'd been speaking, the hard lines of his body slowly beginning to soften. He didn't speak, but his shift in body language had given you some hope back. Hope that you could get through to him.

“And I'm not bothered by how much of yourself you give to this city,” you continued, once more carefully closing the space between you both as you slowly lowered your arms to your sides. “I admire you for it, Matthew. Ever since you told me the truth. I've never disliked that part of you. I’ve never taken issue with it. I’ve never been afraid of you. That part of you has only made me admire you more. Love you more.”

You were standing a few feet away from him now, able to see the faint tremble of his lips with how close you were. Everything you were saying was having an effect on him so you continued, hoping your words would start to sink in. Even just a little.

“And it's not just that I admire that big, beautiful heart in your chest,” you told him, “but I admire that big, beautiful brain in that handsome head of yours.” You paused, smiling a little back at him. “I think you're incredibly smart and brilliant, Matt. In and out of the courtroom. You're fiercely passionate about justice no matter the cost to yourself–whether it's sleepless nights out on the rooftops or hours pouring over files here at your apartment. And you're funny when you let yourself stop being so broody most days,” you said, your small smile growing a bit more on your lips as a tear slipped down your cheek. “You brighten my days more than you know, Matty. Always helping me to find the light in the darkness when I think there isn't any. Seeing the good in everyone…except for yourself.”

Reaching up, you wiped away another stray tear that had raced down your cheek with the back of your hand. Matt sniffled quietly, his shoulders sagging as he finally and hesitantly turned towards you. His hands had fallen from his hips, hanging at his sides as his fingers twitched.

“Do you really want me to go?” you whispered, more tears slipping from the corners of your eyes. “Because I–I can take my things and leave if that's what you really want, Matt. I can walk out that door and leave you alone.”

Matt shook his head firmly, his mouth visibly trembling at your words. Tears had managed to slide their way beneath his glasses, trailing their way down his cheeks. The sight had your own tears falling faster as he timidly approached you, closing the small bit of distance that remained.

“No,” he breathed out. “No, I don't really want that.”

Feeling a flood of relief, you reached out and wrapped your arms around his waist. Drawing himself the rest of the way into the front of you, Matt immediately buried his face directly against your neck. You could feel a dampness forming on your skin from his tears, the feeling only causing you to hold him tighter.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed into your skin. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I don’t want you to go. I didn’t mean it. I’m just–just–”

Turning your head, you buried your face into his hair as your hands began rubbing light and soothing patterns over his back while he struggled to find the words he wanted. Your eyelids fluttered shut as you breathed in that warm, rich scent that was always uniquely Matt. With his warm body wrapped around you, your once rapidly beating heart began slowing back to a normal rhythm.

“I know,” you murmured back, lips brushing his hair as you spoke. “I know you didn’t mean it, Matty. Relationships are scary,” you told him. “Giving someone so much of yourself is terrifying, I get it. But I love you and I don’t want to leave you. I’m not going to leave you.”

With his face still buried against your throat, you felt his features screw up against your skin before another rush of Matt’s warm, wet tears began to slide down your neck. Your hands fisted his dress shirt, holding him even tighter to the front of yourself as he cried. You didn’t need him to explain why he’d suddenly begun to weep because you’d already known the answer. He’d heard the truth in your explanation for why you loved him as you’d spoken them aloud. The same unwavering truth that was always present in your words.

“I love you,” he whispered into your skin. “And I don’t think I could ever stop.”

A smile pulled your lips upwards, tears burning at your eyes for an entirely different reason now. You pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to the top of his head as a warm rush of emotion filled you at hearing him finally say those three little words back to you.

“I love you, too, Matty,” you whispered. “And I don’t ever want to stop.”

Matt Murdock One Shot Tag List: @pazii @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @yeonalie @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @wkndwlff @leikelle @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @marvelcinematiquniverse @carstairswife @stilldreaming666 @kiwwia-wiwwia @willwork4dilfs @will-delete-this-later-probably @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @theetherealbloom @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @ladywholikesreading @millennial-birkin @tartbeanpuzzles @harleycao @sunflower-tia @gamingfeline @juskonutoh @kezibear @ninacotte @withyoutilltheendoftheline @justanerd1 @scriptedmoon @lucienofthelakes @sarahskywalker-amidala @flowher @loves0phelia @a-half-empty-g1rl @zomtart @justvalkyrie @steve-chandler

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glowstick-lesbian · 3 months ago

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Words Unspoken (mattt Murdock)

Summary: you're so glad to have Matt around

Warnings: fluff

WC: 590ish

Read on Ao3!

New York City’s nighttime hum surrounded the two of you, the faint glow of streetlights casting long shadows down the alley. The chill in the air was a stark contrast to the warmth radiating between you and Matt Murdock as you stood close enough to hear his steady, controlled breathing.

You glanced up at him, his features softened by the dim light. Despite his blindness, Matt’s presence was always so focused, like he could see you better than anyone else ever had. His sharp senses must have picked up on your accelerated heartbeat or the way you shifted from one foot to the other, nervous energy buzzing between you.

The fight with the latest gang causing havoc in Hell’s Kitchen was over, but the tension between you and Matt still lingered, thick and palpable. For months now, the two of you had danced around this unspoken thing, working side by side to protect the city while never quite acknowledging the pull that drew you together.

Tonight, though, something was different. He had gotten closer during the fight, his body brushing against yours more often than necessary, his hands lingering just a second longer when he pulled you back from harm. And now, here you were, standing so close, his chest rising and falling just inches from your own.

Matt tilted his head slightly, lips parting as if he were about to say something, but the words never came. Instead, there was that silence again—the silence that made your heart race faster than the fiercest battle.

“I know you want to kiss me,” you said suddenly, the words leaving your lips before you could stop them. It wasn’t a challenge, but a simple statement. The tension had built too much, and you were done pretending that you didn’t feel the same way.

Matt’s lips twitched into a small, surprised smile, and for a moment, he said nothing. His fingers flexed at his sides, almost as if he was contemplating reaching for you, but he held back.

“I do,” he admitted softly, his voice rough but sincere, as if he had been holding back those words for longer than you could imagine. His face tilted towards yours, his lips hovering dangerously close, and you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

The city noise seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you in this small, intimate moment. The world might have been falling apart outside this alley, but here, with Matt, it was quiet.

"Then what are you waiting for?" you whispered, leaning in just enough to close the distance.

A barely audible laugh escaped him, the smile fading as he closed the gap between you, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was at once soft and intense. The electricity that had been building for so long finally surged through you, and the world around you disappeared completely.

For once, Matt didn’t hold back. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer, and you could feel his heart beating just as wildly as yours. Every touch, every gentle press of his lips against yours, spoke the words neither of you had dared to say until now.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, Matt rested his forehead against yours. He smiled softly, a contentment in his expression that you hadn’t seen before.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he whispered.

With a grin, you brushed a strand of hair from his face. “I think I do.”

tags!

EVERYTHING PERM: @nekoannie-chan @kjs-s @notyourtypicalrose @mistressofallthingsgeeky

MARVEL PERM: @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @late-to-the-party-81 @capsthot @kenzieam @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes

MATT MURDOCK: @hallecarey1 @yarrstyleeza @sloppyzengarden

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glowstick-lesbian · 3 months ago

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summ. You pull some strings to get the old punching bag from Fogwell’s down below the church. Matt is thankful. — ( A quick audio imagine blurb! )

“YOU FORGET I CAN SENSE when you're nervous."

In the dingy basement cellar of Clinton Church, Matt laughs as you busy yourself with handwrapping him.

The sound is sincere.

You're glad.

He hasn't laughed— or been himself since Father Lantom had dragged him to the foot of the church half-dead, and you suppose neither have you after a revelation as big as: I just discovered my best-friend of multiple years is the local city's vigilante.

But, he's laughing, now.

A phantom of it, sure, but a real one nonetheless. It's progress. It means you're doing something right.

"I'll be fine," he says. Above the both of you, the church choir begins a solemn hymn. "Thank you for this, really. I... I know I've, I've not been..."

The words escape him. He ducks his head and licks his lips.

( You get him, ofcourse. You always do. A decade old friendship does that: of filling in the blanks, reading each other's hearts. )

"I know," you nod, pressing a gentle hand to his cheek. He's got a stubble he ought to shave off by now. "I know, Matty."

He breathes you in, eyes closed as leans into your touch.

"You can stay and watch over me if you want. I promise I'll take it easy, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you smile. “Been watching over your dumbass since we were kids, anyway. S’nothin’ new.”

A scoff.

He swipes at the tip of your nose; you swat him with a laugh.

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glowstick-lesbian · 3 months ago

Note

Congratulations on the milestone!! That's so exciting!!! 🙌🏻🎉❤️

Can I send Mikey a sunflower for some hurt/comfort? Maybe Reader is in need of comfort after a day of hearing too much internal negative self-talk?

Note: there are descriptions of hair in this drabble! Specifically of brushing it and pulling it back.

Tugging at the hem of your shirt, you sighed as the material failed to fall in a flattering way. Time was running out and you needed to settle on a damn outfit. Chewing at the flesh of your bottom lip, you rushed back to your closet, hands coasting over fabric as you searched for a more suitable outfit.

Nothing felt appropriate. All too bland, or revealing, or preppy for a night out with your gorgeous husband. Flexing your clammy hands, you blew out a tight breath, pulling another handful of tops off their respective hangers.

You’d tried on half your damn closet by the time Michael walked through the bedroom door. Normally, his footsteps made you grin, his presence reminding you that you were safe and loved. Today, though, the sound of stairs creaking made your hands tremble, nearly smearing mascara across your cheekbone. Tossing the closed wand aside, you fumbled for your brush, yanking at the rat’s nest of tangles on the back of your head. If you could just get it tied up before he walked in the room…

The door opened. As always, your husband’s resting frown softened into an affectionate smile when his gaze wandered over you.

“Hiya pet,” Crossing the bedroom in long strides, he knotted his burly arms around your waist, drawing you close. “Fuck, it’s good to see ya.”

“You saw me this morning,” You chuckled weakly, shoving at his arms so you could finish styling your hair, praying he couldn’t see how frizzy it was from where he was buried against your neck.

“Been so long,” Michael purred, nudging your ear with his nose. “Could barely stand it.”

Snorting at his exaggerated whine, you shook your head. “Missed you too. Let me finish getting ready and I’ll be all yours.”

Mikey gave a dramatic huff, plopping down on the edge of the bed to watch your reflection in the standing mirror. Heat clawed at your cheeks, your eyes avoiding his loving gaze and focusing on the imperfections along your hairline instead. You batted at the flyaways with a scowl, anxiety swishing in your gut when they refused to fade into your hair.

“Stop tha’,” Michael scolded gently, cupping his massive hands around yours, shielding your hair from further torment. “Ya look stunnin’, pet.”

“Thank you, Mikey.” The smile you directed at him didn’t meet your eyes. You looked awful. Worn out and ashen. Michael deserved someone beautiful, and put together, and confident. Not the mess of a woman he’d settled for.

Tucking your trembling fingers around your elbows, you ducked around Michael, firmly ignoring his crossed arms and furrowed brow as you dug through the pile of clothes on your bed to find your phone. “You ready to go?”

“Hold on a minute, love.” You froze, hands half buried in a heap of wrinkled cotton. His disappointment was palpable, forcing a lump to your throat. You couldn’t ruin something else for him. You couldn’t–

“Wha's wrong, pet? Why won’ ya look at me?” Calloused skin rasped over your hands, turning you by the elbows until Michael could study your scrunched face. “Talk to me, please.”

“Nothing’s wrong, Mikey. I promise–” Swallowing the crack in your voice, you tried to reassure him, but he persisted.

“Don’ lie to me. Somethin’s botherin’ ya.” Lifting one hand to cradle your cheek, Michael’s eyes dug into your own with a concerned intensity. “Did I say somethin’ wrong?”

“No, of course not. You never do, I just–” Inhaling shakily, you leaned into the arm he wrapped around you, resting your face against his shoulder. “I don’t feel like I’m enough today. The thought of going out is making me…nervous.”

“Why didn’ ya say somethin’?” He murmured, thumb brushing over the baby hairs lining your nape.

“You’ve been looking forward to our date all week,” You pouted, blinking back frustrated tears. “You deserve to have fun, Mikey. I didn’t want to drag you down with me.”

“I’ve been lookin’ forward to spendin’ time with ya, pet.” Your husband’s lips brushed over your forehead as he spoke, breaking the sentences up with a sweet kiss. “Doesn’ mean we needta go out.”

“It doesn’t?” You borrowed your eyes skeptically, sure that he was lying to spare your feelings.

“Course not.” Mikey smiled, scratching underneath your chin. “I’d much rather stay home with ya, eat on the couch and watch that show ya like. How’s tha’ sound?”

Chewing on your bottom lip with hesitant optimism, you nodded. “Good.”

“Why don’ ya bring a blanket downstairs and I’ll order take away?” With a sturdy push, he tilted your chin up, planting a stubbled kiss on your lips. “Ya can even take yer clothes off, if ya want. No needta keep ‘em on if we stay ‘ere.”

You laughed brightly as he grabbed a handful of your ass and smacked it lightly before releasing you from his grip. “If I’d known you had ulterior motives, I wouldn’t have said anything.”

“Can’ help it, pet. Yer too damn gorgeous, how am I supposed to keep my hands off ya?” He waggled his eyebrows at you, beaming when you giggled. “I love ya, pet. Never wan’ ya to feel nervous. Not ever, ya?”

“I love you too, Michael Kinsella.” You pecked his cheek, grinning into his beard as the weight of your anxiety fully dissipated.

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glowstick-lesbian · 3 months ago

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listen i know it was kind of a joke in the show, but foggy knowing exactly how to find karen by thinking, "what's the thing i LEAST want her to be doing right now?" and being right is SO funny

like matt's got super senses, but foggy's got, "what the most dangerous and ill-advised thing one of my best friends could be doing right now?" senses and honestly??? an icon

#daredevil #foggy nelson #karen page #matt murdock

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glowstick-lesbian · 3 months ago

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Half of Forever [Three]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader Word Count: 4.8k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: break up, pining, idiots in love, angst with a happy ending

a/n: This is the final part of this little mini series. Enjoy the angst and the happy ending you've all been waiting for! Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Stepping off the bus, you were immediately hit with the onslaught of rain heavily beating down on you from above. Ducking your head, you dashed across the sidewalk towards the nearest overhang for temporary shelter. As you darted towards the bodega, your dress shoes splashed water up onto your slacks as you ran through puddle after puddle.

Breath coming in hard once you'd reached the brief refuge, you took a moment to collect yourself. The rain continued to fall past the overhang, loudly pelting the sidewalk all around you. The handful of passersby toting umbrellas had you instantly wishing you'd grabbed yours before leaving your apartment for work today. But you’d foolishly forgotten to check the weather this morning.

Leaning up against one of the shop’s windows behind you, you heard the crack of thunder far off in the distance. A shiver ran through you, the chilled fabric of your drenched clothing clinging to your skin. Wiping a hand across your wet forehead, you let out a quiet groan as the weight of your predicament hit you.

What a horrible day this had turned out to be.

While you’d been on the city bus making your way home from the office, a storm had rolled in and a downpour had begun. Now standing here and looking out at the large puddles forming along the sidewalks and in the streets, you realized you had a long walk just past the outskirts of Hell's Kitchen and back to your apartment in this mess. All because you'd accidentally missed your actual bus stop, having been too distracted thinking about the reprimand you'd gotten from your boss just before you'd left work today.

Glancing down at your purse, you began to unzip the main compartment before reaching a hand inside. You pulled out your cell phone, your finger desperately holding down the power button as your eyes stared at the black screen and willed it to turn on. Except you knew it wouldn't because the battery had long since died. You hadn't properly plugged it into the charger when you'd gone to sleep last night, so by the time you'd gotten to work this morning and realized the battery was quite low, it had been too late to do anything about it. Your phone had tragically died in your purse some time before lunch.

Though realistically it didn’t matter that your phone was dead. It wasn’t like you could have afforded using one of your apps to set up a ride home even if your phone was working. Because unfortunately for you, you'd had the misfortune of falling ill two weeks ago and the unexpected doctor's bill along with the medication you’d needed had wiped out your measly extra bit of emergency cash.

“Goddammit,” you whispered.

Tears building in your eyes, you watched the rain continue to pour down around you as your chest steadily grew tighter and tighter from the stress of the day. The last thing you felt like doing this evening was spending a half an hour walking home in a storm, but you couldn't just stand here waiting beneath the shop’s overhang for it to end, either. You didn't exactly have a choice.

With a sharp exhale, you reluctantly accepted your fate. Pushing away from the window, you grudgingly stepped out from beneath the safety of your covering and straight into the downpour. You willed your legs to move at a speed faster than your usual pace as the rain once more drenched you. Though despite your increased pace, you certainly weren't tempted to run home because you knew it wouldn’t have mattered anyway–you were already soaked to the bone in a matter of seconds.

Ducking your head to avoid the rain drops from further attempting to blind you, you made your way down the sidewalk. Jaw set firmly, you couldn’t help but internally chastise yourself for having missed your stop before internally berating yourself for forgetting to at least grab the small umbrella you usually kept in your purse. You hadn't put it back after the last rainy day when you’d left it out to dry by your front door.

You’d only managed to make it two blocks while silently fuming to yourself and steadily growing colder in your drenched work clothes before you’d finally become completely overwhelmed. Once more you felt the tears threatening to fall as they welled in your eyes, steadily blurring your vision. This time you didn't think you could hold them back. Gritting your teeth, you rushed towards the nearest overhang on a building up ahead before turning your back to the sidewalk, not wanting the rest of the city to see you publicly breakdown. Burying your face in your hands, you let yourself finally cry.

It felt like things had not been going well for you for a while now–for years if you were being honest–and it felt like today had been the culmination of it all. Your job was awful and barely paid your bills. You hardly had any free time to spend with your friends anymore, and your dating life had only increasingly grown more depressing and lackluster. The apartment you'd once loved you had eventually grown to hate because it held the ghost of Matt everywhere you looked–at your kitchen table, on your couch, in your bed, beneath the spray of your shower.

You should have never come to the city. You should have gone anywhere else instead of giving into your dreams of some brilliant, happy life out here. Some fantastic life full of excitement and love. Because that wasn't the reality of your life in Hell’s Kitchen. Not anymore.

The tears continued to stream down your cheeks, your face still buried against your palms. Biting your bottom lip, you at least attempted to keep your sobs to a volume softer than the rain heavily falling around you and the distant rumbling of thunder. You felt pathetic standing here on the sidewalk crying in a storm in the middle of Hell’s Kitchen.

The sound of your name being called suddenly registered in your ears between your quiet sobs. Your body tensed instantly; you hadn't anticipated anyone approaching you out here let alone someone who apparently knew your name. But when they said your name again, the voice coming from just behind you this time, you knew exactly who had spoken.

Hunching further in on yourself, you felt your heart drop to the ground by your soaked feet. As if your bad day needed to get any worse, now it had. He was the absolute last person you wanted to see right now, the one who haunted your dreams most nights. Roughly wiping the heels of your hands over your eyes, you tried to dry your tears. Because of course if you were going to run into your ex, it had to be when you were embarrassingly at your lowest. Trying to brace yourself for whatever this encounter would do to your already battered heart, you swallowed the lump forming in your throat before cautiously turning around.

If you thought you'd been prepared to see Matt standing there soaked from the storm, you were certainly wrong. The sight of him in his fitted suit with his hair a damp, dark mess clinging to his forehead hit you like a tidal wave. Beads of rain were sliding down his cheeks, just past his red glasses. The corners of his lips were downturned among a darker scruff of beard than you ever recalled him having back when you’d both been together. Both of his hands were squeezing his cane tight between his fists, his dark dress pants wet and clinging to his thighs that had grown far thicker over the years.

With trembling lips, your eyes slowly traveled back up to his face, once more meeting the harsh crimson of his lenses. Teeth clamping down harder on your bottom lip, you fought back the sob threatening to spill forth as more hot tears slid down your cheeks. A sharp pain twisted in your chest, right where your heart resided. He’d grown more handsome with age, though that shouldn’t have remotely come as a surprise to you. He'd always been beautiful.

“What–what are you doing here?” he whispered, his dark brows sinking beneath his glasses. “Is something wrong?”

Your own brows dipped together in confusion before you finally looked around you, taking in your surroundings. It didn’t take long for you to realize where you’d accidentally ended up. Turning your head over your shoulder, you spotted the address on the familiar-looking building. It was Matt’s apartment building. Eyelids slowly lowering, you exhaled a sharp, frustrated breath.

“Are you in trouble?” he asked again, concerned. “Did…you need help?”

How utterly embarrassing this whole situation had become. He thought you’d come here on purpose . For his help as Daredevil most likely. Wincing, you slowly returned your attention to his beautiful, worried face. That sharp pain seared straight through you at the sight of him.

“No,” you whispered, an embarrassed heat burning up your neck. “I didn’t realize exactly where I was.”

Matt’s head tilted curiously to the side, his eyebrows still furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?” he asked. “You didn’t come here intentionally? You weren’t looking for me?”

Wincing once more, your eyes dropped down to your wet dress flats as you shook your head. Why couldn’t you have paid more attention to where you were going? Hell’s Kitchen was such a small area and it wasn’t like Matt would have ever left it. You should have been navigating your way home better in the rain so that you wouldn’t end up crying in front of his apartment building.

“No,” you awkwardly admitted. “I was distracted on the bus. Got off on the wrong stop. I wasn’t exactly paying attention to where I was in the storm, I was just trying to get back home.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Matt’s shoulders visibly drop at the information. Not entirely sure what to make of that, you kept your gaze averted as a chill ran up your spine. Your wet clothes certainly were not helping this situation.

“Oh,” he breathed out. “I’m sorry. I thought I recognized it was you standing here and I thought that you…nevermind.”

“No, it’s my fault,” you muttered, shaking your head. “Sorry. I–I didn’t mean to bother you by showing up like this. It was entirely an accident.”

An uncomfortable silence fell between the pair of you, that nauseating feeling you remembered from the night when he’d ended things with you years ago rising to the surface and uncoiling in your stomach. After this unexpected encounter, you knew you’d be trying and failing to move on from him all over again.

“I’m just–just going to go,” you stammered. “I should get back home anyway.”

Gripping your purse straps like a lifeline, you turned in the direction back towards your apartment. Though you’d taken two more steps before Matt called your name over the roar of thunder. You paused, eyes falling shut at the sound of his cane tapping along the sidewalk as you kept your back to him.

“You can’t possibly walk home in this,” he stated. “It’s not safe.”

“I don’t exactly have a choice. My phone’s dead and I don’t have money for a cab anyway,” you confessed awkwardly. “Faster to walk home than anything else at this point.”

You could feel his presence just behind you before you even heard his voice, the hair on the back of your neck prickling at his proximity. Your heart was beating in an agonizing rhythm in your chest with him so near after years of you both being apart. It had been so long since you’d last seen him, since you’d last heard his voice. Every second of this was sheer torture.

“I’ll call you a car,” he offered. “I can pay for it. I can’t have you walk home in this. How much do you need?”

“No, Matt,” you declined, sharply shaking your head.

Turning back towards him, you were surprised to see he’d already pulled his wallet out of his dress pants, his fingers running over the differently folded bills. A surge of emotion welled up within you at the sight, the feeling becoming almost too much to bear as the tears pricked at your eyes again. He never had much but he was always eager and willing to try and help everyone he could. One of the many things you'd always loved about him.

“I’m not taking your money,” you told him, fighting the tremor in your voice. “It’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

“Well I can’t let you walk home in this,” he stated again. “I won’t let you.”

A small, sad smile tugged at your lips as you watched a frown form along his own. As a few tears once more snuck their way from the corners of your eyes and burned warm trails down your cheeks, you saw Matt’s hand grip his wallet tighter in his fist.

“What’re you going to do, Matty?” you whispered. “Hold me here against my will?”

His lips thinned out along his face, his dark brows once more pulling together. Ever so subtly you saw him shake his head. With the sad smile still on your face, you nodded slowly.

“Yeah, exactly,” you murmured. “I need to head back home now before this storm gets worse. Goodbye, Matthew.”

Feeling your heart break for a second time, you turned around and stepped out from beneath the overhang on his building and back into the downpour of rain. Ducking your head, you continued down the sidewalk, not even bothering to wipe the tears from your face as they mingled with the drops of rain racing down your cheeks.

What a horrible day this had turned out to be.

Biting down sharply on your lip, you tried hard to muffle a sob now that Matt was here. But as your heart brokenly beat in your chest, you knew you couldn't hide a damn thing from him behind you. You never could.

As you took another step forward, something caught your elbow and tugged you backwards. Stumbling in a half turn, your right foot splashed into yet another puddle as you came face to face with Matt. His eyebrows were still tightly knit together, partially lowered beneath his lenses. His mouth was twisted in uncertainty as you stared back at him, your breath catching in your throat.

“Come up to my apartment,” he offered quietly, releasing your elbow. “You can get out of this storm and I can dry your clothes while you warm up in some blankets.”

Shaking your head slightly at his offer, you knew you'd never be able to accept it. This brief encounter was already painful enough, you didn't want to prolong it any further.

“No, Matt, I can't just–”

“Please,” he pleaded, cutting you off. “Please just come up.”

You stood there with your lips parted in surprise at the earnestness in his voice. Droplets of rain continued to travel down his cheeks, and you saw one bead of water currently clinging to the tip of his nose, mere moments from falling.

“Matt, I can't,” you repeated.

“Why?” he demanded, taking another step towards you. “Tell me. Tell me why you can't come up with me.”

You grimaced, your heart clenching tight in your chest as he continued to drag out this encounter. Tears continued to spill forth from your eyes as you stared back at the desperate expression now spread across his handsome face.

“Why are you doing this, Matt?” you whispered. “Can't you tell how much this is killing me right now? Just standing here talking to you? Now you need me to explain why I can’t just go up to your apartment, too? You really need me to–”

“Because it's killing me, too,” he confessed in a rush before you could finish.

For a second you swore your heart stopped beating at what he'd just admitted. Blinking the rain from your eyes, your mouth fell open in shock. You weren’t entirely sure what to make of that truth, but a part of you began to hope for something right then that you knew you probably shouldn’t.

“Wh–what?” you breathed out.

“I've thought about you,” Matt began, emotion thick in his words. “Over the years, I've thought about you. I can't–can't stop. I've tried, I really have. But I just…I sometimes feel like your presence is still there,” he continued, gesturing his head towards his apartment building behind him. “On occasion I can try to trick myself into thinking that you are–by ordering your favorite takeout or using that soap you always loved. The one with sage and citrus.”

A hesitant smile spread on Matt’s mouth, something melancholic in the way his lips had only marginally curved upwards. Swallowing the lump that had started to form in the back of your throat, another chill raced up your spine as you stood there in your soaked clothes. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you fought down the shiver that was beginning to lightly run through you.

You’d quite literally often dreamt of this moment with Matt. You'd often hoped that one day you’d run into him again somewhere and he would apologize, tell you that he still thought about you. That he still wanted you. But now that he was saying things you’d always wanted to hear, you didn’t quite know how to react. This moment still felt like one of your many dreams.

“It never works for long, though,” he continued softly, voice just louder than the rain. “Because the scent always fades too fast. And I can’t fake the sound of your heartbeat. I can’t–can’t recreate your scent on my bed sheets or the warmth of your body next to me when I’m trying to fall asleep at night.”

You closed your eyes, pressing your trembling lips together as you tried to staunch the flow of tears. You couldn’t believe what he was telling you. A few years ago he ended the relationship–a relationship that had been going so wonderfully well. Sure, there had been issues, but overall you two had fit so perfectly together and everything had just felt right. You’d talked about a future together–moving in, getting married, and whatever might come next. Until one day, seemingly out of nowhere, he’d just walked away from it all.

“Then why, Matt?” you whispered, opening your eyes and focusing back on him. With the tears filling your eyes, he’d grown a bit blurry standing there before you. “All those years ago, why did you end things? If you’ve been here all this time feeling exactly like I’ve been feeling for years then…what was the point?”

Matt ducked his head almost shamefully, one hand releasing his cane before rubbing it across his mouth. Nerves swirled in your stomach as another crack of thunder tore through the distance, the rumbling sound accentuating the pause that felt agonizingly long.

“Because I was scared,” he finally confessed, his attention seemingly fixed on the sidewalk–though you knew his senses were fixed on you. “I’d never quite felt how I did for you for anyone else before. One time I thought I did and she…left me. But it wasn’t just a fear of you leaving…”

Matt trailed off for a moment, growing silent as the rain continued to pour down. Your heart was in your throat as you waited for him to finish his thought.

“It was a fear of who I felt I was becoming when I was with you,” he finished softly. “Of what I thought I was losing.”

Eyes narrowing in confusion at Matt, you squeezed your arms tighter around your shivering body. “What do you mean?”

He raised his head, his rain speckled lenses focusing back on you. “We spent a lot of time together, remember? Specifically in the evenings? Before things ended?”

Gaze averting to the ground, you tried to recall the end of the relationship. He had in fact stayed in more frequently. You remembered sharing meals together after work and taking walks at the park. Scheduling date nights on the weekend and staying up late beneath the sheets. It hadn’t been every night, but he had significantly begun to spend more time with you just before he’d ended the whole thing–which had only added to your confusion at the time.

“Yeah,” you answered, glancing up at him from beneath your lashes. “I remember. But what does that have to do with anything?”

“I feared I was changing into someone else,” Matt answered slowly, taking a hesitant step towards you. “I thought I was losing the other half of myself in our relationship because I had begun to spend less time as Daredevil. So I–I pushed you away to try to prevent myself from fully losing myself. And I used that as an excuse to run from my fear of you leaving me.”

"T hat's what you meant by not being able to be yourself with me?” you asked, everything finally beginning to make sense. “Oh Matthew,” you breathed out, shaking your head. “You were never losing Daredevil. Not at all. You never once stopped helping the people who needed it. The nights someone was in danger or something was happening, you still put on the mask.”

Licking your lips as you paused, you could taste the salt of your tears among the droplets of rain. A flash of lightning streaked across the sky behind Matt, just above the tops of the buildings. Seconds later, another roar of thunder punctuated the silence.

“What I think you were doing was learning balance in your life,” you told him. “Learning to be both Matthew Murdock and the Devil.”

“I know,” Matt agreed gently, nodding his head. “But I realized that three years too late. And I'm–I'm so sorry for that.”

Swallowing hard, you felt your heart hammering beneath your arms still wrapped around your chest. “And I never wanted to leave you,” you added, voice cracking as you spoke. “You were my forever, Matty. I told you that.”

A muscle visibly jumped in his cheek, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he couldn't decide on a smile or a frown. Taking another hesitant step, Matt closed the gap between you both. Gazing back at his red lenses, you felt your breath begin to come in sharper now that he was right there .

Without warning his hand reached up, timidly coming to cup your cheek in his palm. As if on instinct, you leant back into his warm touch, the feel of it sending a shudder through you for a reason other than the contrast from the cold. His thumb softly swept outwards, gently brushing away a few teardrops from your cheek. You felt like you couldn't breathe as the pad of his thumb afterwards began to affectionately stroke a line along your cheekbone.

“Please come up,” he begged. “Let me help you.”

Eyes closing, you tried to focus on formulating a thought. But it was hard to think with him touching you, with him pleading for you to let him help you. Inhaling a breath, you'd been about to respond, but then you felt him lightly press his damp forehead to yours and your eyes flew open.

He was so close. His hot breath was falling against your lips as it left his own parted ones. The sensation was dizzying, making it hard to focus on almost anything else. Beneath the arms still tightly wrapped around your chest, you could feel your heart accelerating to a worrying speed.

“We can talk,” he told you. “About everything. I have more to apologize for, I know. I just–just want to fix the mess I made. If it's not too late.”

Exhaling a slow breath, you let his words wash over you like the rain itself, cleansing the years worth of pain that lingered in your heart. Gradually you nodded against his forehead, catching the way he sucked in a sharp breath at the little movement.

“Okay,” you whispered. “I'll come up.”

With the way your eyes had been fixed on his lips, you caught the faint smile that slipped onto his mouth the second it did. Something shot through you like a bolt of electricity at the sight of it. Matt's nose affectionately and timidly bumped yours, a small gesture that brought a rush of feelings straight to the surface along with a confession that bubbled right out of your mouth.

“I missed you,” you whispered. “So much.”

“I missed you, too, angel,” he murmured, thumb brushing away another tear along your cheek. “I've never stopped missing you.”

Matt shifted his head, his lips accidentally grazing yours as he did. A soft whine you had no control over snuck out of you, the sound drawing another sharp inhale from Matt as his nostrils flared. Your hands curled into fists against your body as he leaned in, just barely touching his lips to yours. Eyelids slowly falling shut once more at the feel of his breath washing over you, you sighed in frustration when his mouth still remained at a distance.

“ Matt .”

You breathed out his name like a plea, your fingernails digging into the palms of your hand. It was quickly becoming far too difficult not to touch him.

“Tell me you haven't thought about this, too,” Matt nearly demanded. “Tell me you don't want me. Just one ‘no’ and I won't–”

Losing control, your hands flew away from your sides and landed on Matt's soaked suit coat, balling the wet material in your fists. “Yes,” you answered him. “I'm telling you yes , Matthew.”

There was a moment, a brief one, where Matt’s face hovered in the space just before yours. Your breath was coming in sharp and hard as you watched him, aware he was probably reading your body for whatever he needed to hear. You knew the exact moment he'd found what he was looking for because his expression shifted just before he launched himself forward at you.

Stumbling backwards into the wall of the building behind you at the force of Matt's enthusiasm, your eyes snapped shut the second his mouth was on yours. Hands snaking their way up his chest, you wrapped your arms around his neck and tangled your fingers in the damp strands of his hair. You pulled him flush to the front of yourself with a faint gasp, his soaked body deliciously heating the front of your freezing and drenched one.

Matt's hand on your cheek held you in place against the brick wall behind you, tilting your mouth to the exact angle for him to easily connect his lips to yours over and over in a heated passion. The pair of you struggled to catch your breath each time he pulled away, your gasping breaths loud in your own ears despite the storm still raging. His other hand landed on your hip, roughly grabbing it as he kissed you. You could feel the way it shook against you, as if he was struggling not to do more than just hold you there.

“I’m so sorry, angel,” he whispered against your lips.

His mouth was immediately back on yours, relentless in his determination to make you feel just how apologetic he was. Your own mouth was hungrily matching his pace, the rain forgotten as you tried to express the longing you'd been tormented by every single day since he'd left you.

Fingers gripping his hair, you took advantage of the seconds in between kisses. “Don’t you dare–” you broke off as his mouth slammed back onto yours again, “–break my heart again, Matthew,” you finished when he pulled back.

Matt paused at your words, breathing hard as he gazed back at you, the rain continuing to wash over the both of you. Nearly out of breath yourself, you couldn't help but admire how perfect he looked standing there completely soaked with his flushed cheeks and the small smile gracing his swollen lips.

“Never,” he promised. “I hate myself for ever hurting you like that. And it’ll never happen again, I promise you that. The pain of those last three years was torture. Punishment. And I promise we'll talk, angel, we will, but…”

His voice trailed off and your eyes darted back to his lips. The lips you missed, the lips that brought you comfort in a way nothing else ever had. In that moment you understood him completely.

“But not right now,” you agreed.

Yanking him back towards you with the hand still tangled in his hair, you swallowed the resulting soft growl of his down, kissing him with all the longing that you'd bottled inside for the past three years. Matt didn't hesitate to match your passion and enthusiasm as he pressed you further into the brick behind you, your back arching into him just as another rumble of thunder tore through the night.

What an unexpected day this had turned out to be.

Matt Murdock One Shot/Shorts Tag List: @pazii @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @yeonalie @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @wkndwlff @leikelle @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @marvelcinematiquniverse @carstairswife @stilldreaming666 @kiwwia-wiwwia @willwork4dilfs @will-delete-this-later-probably @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @theetherealbloom @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @ladywholikesreading @millennial-birkin @tartbeanpuzzles @harleycao @sunflower-tia @gamingfeline @juskonutoh @kezibear @ninacotte @withyoutilltheendoftheline @justanerd1 @scriptedmoon @ardent-crow @lucienofthelakes @sarahskywalker-amidala @flowher @loves0phelia @a-half-empty-g1rl @zomtart @justvalkyrie @steve-chandler @islayhawkin @slyregg

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glowstick-lesbian · 3 months ago

Text

Half of Forever [Two]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader Word Count: 2.2k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: break up, pining, idiots in love, angst with a happy ending

a/n: This part is all in Matt's POV and it's the second of three in this little mini series. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Matt's hand curled around Foggy's bicep as he descended the stairs of the courthouse, the heat of the midday sun warming him through his suit. Lowering his cane along each step, a sharp tapping resounded in his ears while he walked. As Foggy guided him back towards the office, a frown permanently settled along Matt's lips.

Things had not gone how Matt had hoped this morning.

“Well that went about as well as I expected it to,” Foggy stated, mirroring Matt's thoughts. “And did you see Judge Andrews’ face, Karen?”

Karen was walking just a step behind Matt, her heels hitting the concrete a bit more harshly than usual. Matt heard her release a defeated sigh as her hand reached up, frustratedly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He could feel the agitation in her body and the tension in her muscles, already aware of her own soured mood before she'd spoken.

“Yeah, I saw,” she answered. “But the trial hasn't finished yet. Maybe there's a chance we can still turn things around?”

“I really hope so,” Foggy muttered. “But honestly I feel like we'd need a miracle at this point.”

Matt heard the movement of Foggy’s head turning in his direction the moment they'd stepped onto the sidewalk. He caught the unmistakable intake of his breath next, aware that Foggy was about to address him. And Matt had a good idea of exactly what it was that he was about to say.

“Are you just allergic to taking easy cases that make us money, Matt?” Foggy asked. “Because I think I remember telling you this one would be a pain in our asses. And look at that!” Foggy waved his free hand in the air. “It's turning out to be a pain in our ass!”

“Mr. Barrows is innocent, Foggy,” Matt replied, trying to restrain his own irritation. “And we help the innocent, if you recall.”

Karen remained silent, her head ducked down as she walked. But Matt felt the air shift as Foggy began nodding vigorously.

“Yes,” he agreed. “Yes we do. But we also have bills to pay. Do you remember what bills are, Matt? Because we have a lot of them. And not just for the law firm, but you know, outside of it, too. And maybe you're not big into the whole having somewhere to live thing,” Foggy sarcastically carried on, “but I think Karen and I both enjoy having apartments. And food.”

“I get it, Fog,” Matt stated flatly.

“Do you though?” Foggy persisted. “Because you keep insisting we take these cases that you stumble on with your nighttime hobby. And unless Daredevil himself would like to take the witness stand, these cases become pretty damn impossible to fight.”

“You know I can't do that,” Matt pointed out. “For more than one reason.”

“No, of course not,” Foggy grumbled. “Because then we'd have even bigger problems. But all I'm asking is that we–”

Matt's fingers gripped tight around Foggy's arm when his senses unexpectedly picked up on something. Whatever Foggy had been saying had gone completely unheard by Matt as he momentarily ceased to even breathe.

Standing absolutely still on the sidewalk, Matt swore he'd just caught the scent of your favorite perfume and the beat of your heart among the afternoon crowd milling about on the city’s streets. It was a combination Matt had once known better than even Foggy’s presence. Despite having thought about you more than he cared to admit over the years, Matt hadn't realized just how closely he'd been unconsciously looking for that distinct combination until he'd startlingly and accidentally stumbled on it.

His mouth felt like it had gone dry, his tongue sitting heavy as he recalled the scent of that very perfume filling his nose every time he had buried his face into the crook of your neck. Head shifting over his shoulder as his eyes narrowed behind his glasses, he attempted to focus in on where you were. While he scanned around himself, desperately hoping to find you again, someone roughly smacked into his side as they passed him. Matt stumbled backwards a step, but he still remained intensely focused in his search, paying no mind to anything else.

“Dude, what's going on?” Foggy asked in a hushed tone. “Is something happening in the city?”

“Back again, handsome Devil?”

Something like panic hit Matt next, his heart speeding up in his chest while his hand tightened around his cane. Your voice. It was like he could hear it as clear as when he used to slip through your apartment window late at night. With his head darting frantically from side to side, he continued to search for you like a man possessed. He wasn’t entirely sure what had taken over him, but he was determined to find you in the crowd again.

“Matt?” Karen’s hesitant voice cut through his concentration. “Is…everything alright?”

He’d opened his mouth, about to tell them both to keep quiet and let him just focus for a minute, but then he found it again. The perfume you always wore–a light floral scent that never gave him a headache or overwhelmed his senses. A scent that immediately stirred up a myriad of memories in his mind. The melodic sound of your laughter whenever he told a joke. The feel of your hand sliding up the inside of his thigh when you’d had a few too many to drink at Josie’s. Your fingers gently and tenderly tracing the injuries on his naked and battered body before he fell asleep in your bed.

Closing his eyes, he focused in on the sound of your heartbeat as you made your way through the throng of people just across the street. It was the same rhythm he used to love listening to whenever he curled up with you in bed at night. He’d often rest his head along your chest, listening to the calming beating of it as your fingers absently carded through his hair. He’d never felt more at peace or more loved than when he was wrapped in your embrace listening to that exact sound.

Except–

His mouth sinking even further into a frown, Matt’s eyes snapped open. Something wasn’t right. The cadence was a little off, not quite exactly the same sound as the one he’d so often fallen asleep hearing beating loud in his ear.

No…that wasn’t you at all.

Jaw tightening at the surprise of how hollow he felt at that realization, Matt released his focus on the stranger across the street. She wasn’t you. Blinking hard a few times, he felt tears beginning to build in his eyes as a flood of despair slammed straight into him. It had been so long since he’d last heard your heartbeat that he’d gone and forgotten the sound of it.

How could he have ever forgotten it?

“Matt?” Foggy tried again. “You okay, buddy?”

Throat tightening with emotion, Matt nodded weakly. “Yeah.”

“What uh, what was that all about?” he asked carefully. “Never seen you get so…quiet before.”

Matt cleared his throat a couple of times, hoping that he’d be able to form a sentence without his voice cracking and giving away how emotional he’d suddenly become. Blinking a few more times, he also hoped that he could hide the tears welling in his eyes behind the lenses of his glasses.

“Just thought I heard something,” he replied, catching the tremor in his voice. “But I was mistaken.”

“Like what?” Karen asked curiously. “Someone in trouble?”

Matt’s lips pursed into a thin line as he shook his head. “No, nothing like that. But we should be getting back to the office,” he said, attempting to change the topic. “We’ve got a lot to prepare for if we hope to do better in court tomorrow.”

Reaching his hand back out, Matt grasped onto Foggy’s bicep once more. He hoped they’d just drop the entire thing despite how strange he knew he’d just appeared by stopping in the middle of a conversation and becoming entirely unresponsive. But as Foggy began to guide him down the sidewalk again, the sound of Karen’s heels resuming their clacking along the pavement, he could practically feel the thoughts swimming in both of their heads.

“So if it wasn’t a crime being committed, what was it?” Foggy asked half a block later.

“Yeah, I’m pretty curious to know what the hell that was, too,” Karen chimed in.

The frown never left Matt’s face as he kept his attention straight ahead of himself, swinging his cane from left to right on the sidewalk. He didn’t want to think about this anymore, especially because the scent of your tears and the sound of you crying in his apartment from that night were steadily becoming impossible to ignore.

“You don’t mean that.”

You’d sounded so heartbroken. Because of him. Because of what he’d had to do.

“Nothing,” Matt muttered. “Just thought I’d heard someone.”

“Heard someone as in like…what?” Foggy pressed. “Planning a crime? Winning the lottery?”

Matt didn’t respond. Instead he sped up his pace, hoping the pair would drop the subject if he didn’t answer their questions any further.

“Okay, so I’m guessing,” Karen said, craning her neck to look past Matt and focus on Foggy along his other side, “that he thought he heard someone and not something .”

“You might be onto something,” Foggy mused. “Maybe a client of ours? Or some crime lord that he's been obsessively chasing after? Or possibly a– wait a minute !”

Matt’s shoulders tensed, his eyelids lowering as he let out a sigh. Internally he began begging God that Foggy hadn’t figured it out. Matt hadn’t brought you up in so long, surely you wouldn’t have crossed Foggy’s mind, would you?

But then he heard it. Your name.

“Who’s that?” Karen asked.

“She and Matt used to date,” Foggy explained, leaning forward and speaking as if Matt wasn’t right there. “A few years back. They were inseparable. Like disgustingly adorable. I was basically ready for Matt to ask me to be his best man at the wedding–”

“They were engaged?” Karen asked in surprise.

“No,” Foggy answered, shaking his head as Matt grit his teeth at the topic of conversation, “but they might as well have been. I’ve never seen Matt so happy before in my life.”

“That’s enough,” Matt interjected.

“So what happened?” Karen asked Foggy, ignoring Matt entirely.

“Somebody here doesn’t know how to just let himself be happy,” Foggy said.

The air shifted as Foggy’s free hand began vigorously gesturing at Matt beside him. Matt’s nostrils instantly flared in frustration. He wanted this conversation to end. Now .

“I said that’s enough ,” Matt snapped.

“So you thought you heard her then, huh?” Foggy continued. “Somewhere nearby? I mean, I would imagine she’s still in the city somewhere. I told you a little over a year ago that I saw her in Hell’s Kitchen at a coffee shop. And I’m pretty sure I told you back then that you should call her.”

“We’re over , Fog,” Matt bitterly reminded him.

“Because you’re an absolute idiot!” Foggy shot back, guiding the pair of them across the street. “You can just never let yourself be happy, Matt. You always have to self-sabotage every relationship you have. And it’s sad.”

“I do not. And there was more to the break up than that,” he muttered. “That's not at all what happened.”

“It's you, Matt. That's exactly what happened. What more could there be?” Foggy asked in exasperation. “She knew you, man. Like knew you, knew you. And apparently you going out in your little pajamas and getting your ass beat wasn’t a turn off because she was still in love with you.”

“I love you, Matty.”

“Stop it,” Matt warned.

“I saw the way she looked at you,” Foggy pushed. “And I saw how you were around her, man. You were in love with her–you’re still in love with her.”

“You’re my forever.”

“And I will never let you live down how incredibly idiotic it was of you to end that relationship,” Foggy told him. “Because you could have been happy. You could’ve–”

“I said stop it !” Matt roared, his lip curled back in a snarl as his head snapped in Foggy’s direction. “Stop talking about her already! We’re over, Foggy. Do you understand that? She’s not a part of my life anymore and she hasn’t been for years. So stop it .”

An awkward silence fell among all three of them as they neared the law firm’s office. Matt’s teeth were grinding back and forth, his muscles tensed as he walked. The urge to hit something was becoming unbearable as his fist curled tighter around his cane. It didn’t help that the sound of your crying and the sad, broken pleas from the last night he’d spoken with you had begun playing on a loop in his mind. He’d broken your heart that night, he damn well knew that.

“Please, Matty. You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t–don’t walk away from this!”

“I love you, Matt. Why’re you doing this to us?”

But he’d also broken his own that night, too.

Matt Murdock One Shot/Shorts Tag List: @pazii @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @yeonalie @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @wkndwlff @leikelle @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @marvelcinematiquniverse @carstairswife @stilldreaming666 @kiwwia-wiwwia @willwork4dilfs @will-delete-this-later-probably @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @theetherealbloom @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @ladywholikesreading @sleepysleepymom @tartbeanpuzzles @harleycao @sunflower-tia @gamingfeline @juskonutoh @kezibear @ninacotte @withyoutilltheendoftheline @justanerd1 @scriptedmoon @ethereal-blaze @lucienofthelakes @sarahskywalker-amidala @flowher @loves0phelia

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glowstick-lesbian · 3 months ago

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Half of Forever [One]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader Word Count: 1.9k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: break up, pining, idiots in love, angst with a happy ending

Summary: Everything had always felt right with Matthew. He had been your other half. Your forever. Until he went and shattered your heart when he ended things. But even after the years apart and your attempts to move on, Matt had never managed to stray far from your thoughts. Though unknown to you, you'd never quite left his, either.

a/n: This is just a short three part series I couldn't resist writing that's somewhat loosely inspired by the song "Half of Forever" by Henrik. The next part is in Matt's POV. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Matt Murdock Tag List: @pazii @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @yeonalie @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @wkndwlff @leikelle @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @marvelcinematiquniverse @carstairswife @stilldreaming666 @kiwwia-wiwwia @willwork4dilfs @will-delete-this-later-probably @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @theetherealbloom @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @ladywholikesreading @sleepysleepymom @tartbeanpuzzles @harleycao @sunflower-tia @gamingfeline @juskonutoh @kezibear @ninacotte @withyoutilltheendoftheline @justanerd1

Fingertips trailing along the expanse of his chest, you adoringly explored every dip and curve of the sharply defined muscles along Matt's naked torso. Hand currently traveling back and forth languidly from collarbone to collarbone, your own chest began to rise and fall with each of his steady breaths as your body relaxed further against his.

You watched in reverent silence as your fingers delicately lowered, rising over the swell of his firm pectoral. The muscle twitched as your finger gently brushed past a recently healed gash he'd received from a switchblade the other night. Eyes focused on the ministrations of your hand, you carefully traced across the length of the cut with the tip of your index finger. You remembered how he’d stopped by your place that evening, allowing you to clean the wound before cleaning the rest of the blood from him afterwards.

Dragging your hand downwards, your fingertips grazed past his nipple, smiling when Matt shuddered briefly. Continuing your descent towards the valley between his abdominal muscles, you caught the way those also faintly twitched beneath your touch as you quietly admired his body. Carefully your fingers skimmed their way up the left side of his ribcage just past an angry black and purple bruise blooming up the entirety of his side. He'd gotten that just a few nights ago from a baseball bat, limping as he'd made his way around your apartment afterwards.

You could have happily laid there the rest of the evening with Matt's skin warm beneath your fingers just trying to commit every inch of him to memory. Taking your time simply mapping each scar and bruise, finding him beautiful in spite of each one. To you he was perfect, even with the injuries he brought home nightly.

Gaze traveling up towards his face, you found that he'd closed his eyes as he lay along the pillow beside yours. He looked content and at peace. There wasn't a single crease of worry etched along his face; instead his full lips were parted slightly, the corners of them partially curled upwards at the corner.

Unable to resist, your hand slid its way up his chest again until your fingers ran past his adam's apple and stopped at the stubbled base of his chin. Lightly tracing the line of his jaw, his facial hair prickling you, you caught the way his mouth tugged further into a lazy smile.

“What're you doing?” he whispered.

Your fingers paused their aimless wandering at the uppermost point of his jaw, your eyes flickering up towards his. They were open now and somewhat creased at the corners as they fixed around the space just to the right of your cheek.

“Admiring you,” you whispered back.

His dark brows shot up onto his forehead, his smile growing wider. “Admiring me?” he questioned.

“Yes,” you answered simply.

Your fingers delicately trailed up towards his temple next and you reveled in the way his eyelids lowered once more. A throaty hum vibrated in his chest, the noise only encouraging your soft touches.

“You say that like I'm a painting,” he teased.

“No,” you distractedly responded. “You're far prettier than a painting, Matthew.”

Focused on smoothing your fingers across his forehead, you caught the way his head tilted up towards your hand. Beneath the sheets where both of your naked bodies were entangled, you felt Matt's own hand gradually snake its way up the outside of your thigh until he came to rest his warm palm along the swell of your hip. His fingers began kneading your soft flesh, something sensual and possessive in the way he touched you in return.

“Mmm,” he hummed out. “Well whatever the reason, it feels nice every time you do this.”

“Does it?” you asked curiously, one of your brows arching.

You lightly swiped your index finger down the length of his nose, grinning when he leaned up to kiss the tip of your finger.

“How does it feel to you with your senses?” you asked.

Matt's hand made its way up along your hip only to curl around your ribcage. The heat of his skin on yours began to draw forth goosebumps across your body, especially as the calloused tips of his own fingers teasingly grazed back and forth along the underside of your breast.

“Addicting,” he murmured, eyes still closed. “Like electricity dancing across my skin.”

“Really?” you asked. “Is that always how it feels to you when you're touched?”

“No,” he answered with a slight shake of his head. “Only when it's you.”

Raising your head from off your pillow, you smiled down at Matt beside you. As if he could feel your gaze on him, his own eyes opened, revealing the beautiful hazel hue of them once more.

“I love you, Matty,” you whispered.

“And I love–”

The blaring, sharp tone of your alarm cut violently through your dream, painfully dragging you back to consciousness. With an irritated groan you rolled over and buried your face into your pillow in an attempt to block out the sound.

You hadn't wanted to wake up. Not quite yet.

Cursing under your breath, you reluctantly rolled back over and threw a hand out towards your nightstand. In frustration you roughly snatched your phone off of the charger and ended your alarm. Tossing the offending device back down, you collapsed onto your back in your bed with a huff.

It had been a few weeks since you'd last had a dream about Matt. But this one had seemed much more vivid and realistic than some of your previous ones. And it had ended far too soon.

Hands rising up, you attempted to rub the sleep from your eyes as you tried to wake. Your dream replayed in your mind instantly–the memory of Matt's skin beneath your fingers, the warmth and love in his eyes, the sweet sound of his voice–and your hands slowly fell back to your sides. Turning your head along the pillow, you glanced over to your left and frowned. The mattress beside you was empty. Just like it had been for years.

While lovers had come and gone since you and Matt had long since broken up, none of them had ever filled that space beside you like he had. None of them had ever even come close. At this rate, you weren't sure anyone ever would. Or that you'd ever stop thinking about him.

Reaching your hand out across the top of your comforter, an old, familiar ache steadily returned in your chest. You ran your hand along the space beside you, trying to recall the way Matt’s eyelids would drowsily flutter open and his groggy voice would always greet you first thing when he woke.

“Good morning, angel.”

That dull ache only grew in your chest.

You'd loved Matt. Loved him in a way that you'd never experienced before or after him. The feeling had been overwhelming and all consuming, but not in the way a fire burned everything around it to ashes, more in the way that a gentle rain lays claim to everything it touches. You had been so hopelessly in love with Matt while you’d been together, convinced that he was it. The big love of your life. Your other half. Your forever.

Until he utterly destroyed your heart.

“Because I can't be who I am when I'm with you! Don’t you see that?!”

Flinching at the memory of Matt's voice, one that had never ceased to stop haunting you, you abruptly withdrew your hand from the side of your bed that had once been his. Even though the argument had been years ago, the pain of it still cut deep like it had been just last night.

But you didn't want to think about that fight.

With a resigned sigh you threw the sheets off of yourself and dragged yourself out of bed. It was probably time you got ready for work anyway, because you certainly couldn't just stay in bed yearning for the past.

Shuffling out of your bedroom, you made your way across the hall and towards your small bathroom. Flipping the light on, you stepped over to your shower and reached in, turning on the water and letting it heat up. Gradually you began peeling your clothing off one layer at a time, your body still sluggish from sleep as you moved.

It was a minute before the water had warmed, steam wafting out past the shower curtain. Once fully undressed, you stepped inside and drew the curtain closed behind yourself. Attempting to wake yourself further, you closed your eyes and turned your face up towards the showerhead, letting the spray fall over you. The water ran in rivulets down your face and your body, the warmth of it comforting first thing in the morning.

“I love you, angel.”

You smiled at the memory of his voice, briefly allowing yourself this one little moment. With your eyes still closed as you stood beneath the spray of water, you swore you could feel the ghost of his arms wrapped around your waist, his solid body pressed to the back of you. If you tried hard enough, you could almost feel the brush of his soft lips along the line of your shoulder or the graze of his rough hands down the sides of your body.

The pair of you had often showered in your apartment together. Especially on weekdays before work because he often stayed over after running around the city at night. On occasion you'd even accepted being late to the office when Matt's hands began wandering their way around your body, both of you too distracted to focus on showering some mornings.

“I can't do this anymore!”

“You're too much of a distraction. It's not worth it.”

“I can't be who I am when I'm with you!”

Exhaling softly, your eyes reopened as the bitter words he'd last said to you inevitably resurfaced in your mind. Turning your face away from the spray of the showerhead, that dull ache in your chest hit you a little sharper.

The man you'd last seen–the one you'd argued with–was nothing like the Matt you'd always known. Your Matt. The one you'd never been able to fully fall out of love with after all these years, no matter how hard you tried. But somehow your Matt was still that very same Matt who had crushed your heart in his hand without the slightest bit of remorse. The one who’d yelled at you and said all of those terrible things that you’d never expected to hear from him.

It had been painfully impossible for you to ever make sense of your conflicting feelings whenever you'd thought about him after that night. Because you wanted to hate him. Moving on would have been so much easier if you could, especially after that argument and the things he’d said. If only you'd just think of him with anger in your heart, maybe that persistent ache there would finally fade.

But somehow you just didn't hate him. You couldn't.

A tear slipped out of your eye as you picked up your bottle of face wash and began to squeeze some into your hand. Sniffling softly, you knew that dull ache you often felt when the memory of Matt resurfaced wasn't going anywhere, just like you knew your thoughts about your ex weren't about to suddenly vanish today.

Because today, like every other day, was just going to be another day without Matt.

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glowstick-lesbian · 3 months ago

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( credits to the lovely @chrlie-cox for this adorable gifset ! )

✟ — 1/? | IN RE: “ODI ET AMO.” | i. The Problem with Stalemates.

summ. You and Matt Murdock have been rivalling for Summa cum laude since the start. It’s your guys’ thing. So when you start to slip�� it only makes sense that it’s him who catches you of all people. pairing. college!matt murdock / f!reader w.count. 4k, baby! a/n. set pre-s1 , pre-established ‘frenemy’ relationship , academic rivals-to-lovers , Matty is a soft cocky boy with blindness for rizz , Reader is an aloof girl who has a staring problem , latin title quoted from below . fic tag. #INRE:

“Odi et amo. Quare id faciam, fortasse requiris. Nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior." — Catullus, "LXXXV"

SALUTATORIAN ; VALEDICTORIAN.

Magna cum laude ; Summa cum laude.

You and Matthew Murdock.

Or, in re:

“Heckle and Jeckle,” Foggy laughs, half-exasperated and half-impressed at the mock-trial unfolding before him.

( It’s nearing almost an hour in. Nothing new when it comes to the likes of both you and Matt. )

Backchat, bickering, and banter is to be expected whenever you and Murdock cross paths. You can barely remember when you even began locking horns with him, really— it’s almost become a staple of your week to get rapt in a practice dispute with him that almost always ends up without a verdict or pushed to the next lesson for a retrial.

Professor Nguyen likes to call you two ‘Stale-mates’ because of that, and much to your chagrin, it’s stuck.

God forbid Matthew Murdock ever becomes a mate of yours. The thought has you scoffing.

Murdock has always been outdoing you by a hair’s breadth since the start of law school, and you refuse to believe it’s ‘natural talent’ no matter how much everyone else claims it to be. He’s simply better. Which means you need to be better.

He’s also cocky, and charmingly so, you can admit that— the whole confidently-sweet-blind-gentleman shtick has half the class swooning and half the professors vouching for his success; which is exactly why he’s the bane of your existence. He had an, advantage, if you will, with a face like that.

And brains, ofcourse.

“Objection, Foggy— I mean— Your Honor,” he amends, “Uh, I believe the defendant just called me a stubborn dumbass? I’m pretty sure that constitutes misconduct.”

The lecture hall breaks into laughter.

You throw your hands up. That— well. Okay. Maybe you do tend to speak on impulse. But he had that effect on you: Disarming, as if acutely aware of your buttons to push and exactly when to push them.

Definitely not because he’s more level-headed than you when it comes to debates.

( Definitely not because of that jawline, either. )

…Whatever.

“Sustained, Mr. Jeckle Murdock,” Foggy waves. “As for you, Ms. Heckle, as much as I personally know how much of a pain in the ass my roommate can be, please maintain professionalism in court.”

Later, behind the lectern, Professor Nguyen dismisses the class short of a few minutes before it’s end. “As entertaining as it was, today’s trial went nowhere. Both parties ended up at an impasse, as usual. A stalemate.”

You wrinkle your nose at that. ( Matt notices from his end of the room. )

“And while it does show that dear Heckle and Jeckle here skilfully know their way around law, it also shows that both of them are terrible at exercising it. Why? Because what we’re trying to do here, at the end of the day, is find a conclusion. To seek resolution.”

Prof. Nguyen looks pointedly at Murdock. A swell of pride washes over you. ( Which, is recognisably a petty and self-indulgent thing to feel, considering he can't even see her look at him, anyway. )

“You should’ve taken the settlement, Matt. It was practically gift-wrapped,” Foggy tells him afterwards, during their usual trip down campus for a quick grab-and-go snack. “Doesn’t always have to be a cage fight, y’know?”

“And give Ms. Heckle the satisfaction of thinking she won on terms? Not a chance,” he snorts, nudging his guiding arm. “She’ll see that as surrender. At least, I would, with a compromise like that. Besides, even if the tables were turned, you know she wouldn’t have taken it either.”

“Aw, you guys know each other so well, don’t you?” Foggy sing-songs. “Practically all up each other’s faces earlier. Swear I thought she was gonna jump your bones for a sec—”

“Oh, c’mon, Foggy,” he groans, “Not this again.”

“I’m serious! God, if you can see the way she looks at you.”

“Fortunately, I can’t.”

He can. In a way, ofcourse. Not that he’d ever admit that. Yeah, sure, he’s privy in the fact that you’re undoubtedly attracted to him, what with the fluctuating heartrate and tell-tale scent of natural pheromones, but that still doesn’t discount how you genuinely find him grating above it all.

Matt would’ve almost considered it endearing— if he didn’t find you just as frustrating at times, too.

It’s the boldness, he reasons. You never seemed to hide. Unapologetically and deliberately agitating.

( …Pretty voice, too. )

“You’re still smiling. That’s creepy. What’re you smiling about, Matt?”

It’s only when they’re too exhausted to read through some lengthy case study about Torts, lazing over their beds in their messed up dorm room, that the conversation gains traction again.

“Next time, remind me to keep your ass out of settlement negotiations.”

“I was giving her a reason to come back with a better deal,” Matt says, face half-smushed against his pillow.

“Mhm, sure. Just admit it—” Foggy pokes his head out the side of his laptop. “—you want her to come back. Every. Single. Time.”

“That is, hah, not true. I just wanna win fair and square.”

“You can’t see, but I’m making the biggest ‘that’s bullshit’ face ever,” he snorts, setting the debris of his bed off to one side. “First of all, law isn’t about winning. It’s not a game, and you of all people know that. Second of all, you can’t deny the sexual tension and chemistry of academic rivals!”

Chemistry that don’t exactly mix well, Matt wants to argue, not with your cross-sword tempest of a personality and his cool as ice quickdraw against every contrement you two share. Half of the school calls the pair of you oil and water when really it’s more a struck match to open gasoline.

Instead, he goes with: “Did Marci tell you that, Foggy-Bear?”

Matt receives a pillow to the face. He barks out a laugh. “Okay, low blow, sorry, buddy.”

“You’re just jealous I got a girl and you’ve got the hots for the ‘Heckler’.”

“I do not. And in her defense, that nickname came from a good cause.”

( The ‘Heckler’, of which was borne: the time you discovered one of the University’s wunderkind sophomores got away with harassing Nabilah from your Interdisciplinary Legal Studies class under a registrar’s aegis.

You’d harangued both men, tore their reputation asunder with damning evidence, and left a monstrous shiner across the student’s face that printed all over the front page of Columbia Daily Spectator— the school paper— as a cherry on top.

Matt remembers your voice echoing the flagstones: Another victim’s story swept under the rug of shitty institutionalised silence along with all the untold scandals!

No one crosses you since.

Until Matthew Murdock, of course, and so turned ‘Heckler’ into Heckle and Jeckle. )

“Never thought I’d see you come to her defense, Mr. Jeckle Murdock.”

“Well, I am an aspiring lawyer.”

“And Ms. Heckle—” Foggy points with a finger. “—is your literal enemy! She’s the only person standing against you and a Summa cum laude distinction— right after me, ofcourse— and is also the most stubborn force to be reckoned with.”

Matt shrugs. “She’s… you know. Passionate. I respect that.”

He regrets his words as soon as they leave his mouth. He can feel the smirk cutting across Foggy’s lips before he could interrupt him.

“…Respect, huh? That’s what we're calling it now?”

“Foggy.” Another groan. Matt volleys the pillow back— manages to clock him straight to the head despite an attempted dodge. “I respect her. Doesn’t mean I care about her.”

Matt Murdock realises very quickly he eats his words.

If he had the time to feel humiliated about it, he probably would.

“Heckle!”

On a sunny Monday afternoon, you wince mid-step down the flight towards your seat in the lecture hall, a lovely— you glance at the clockhand— 15 minutes late to class.

The attempt to sneak in is ten times more awkward with the now-empty coffee cup in your hands.

“Nice of you to finally join us, Heckle,” comes the Professor’s terse voice. Tardiness has always been scorned by Mr. Lowell, and over the past few days— you’ve been arriving later and later. It’s unusual of you.

“…Good afternoon, Professor,” you greet, sheepish.

You’re suddenly pinned by a hundred gazes. All except your Jeckle.

Murdock’s standing with a cant to his head and a smirk on his face you want to wipe off, looking pointedly forward. He must have been called upon in class to dispute a case before you stepped in.

“Before you take your seat,” Prof. Lowell begins, “A tenant has claimed ‘illegal eviction’ after their landlord changed the locks to their door when they were away for a week. What’s the landlord’s best defense, in this case?”

You blink. Gather yourself by muscling your tote and laptop to another arm.

“Abandonment. Since there was an extended period without any notice, or in this case, a week’s absence of no communication— they have reasonable grounds to assume abandonment was the tenant's intention, and justify locking the door as preventing damage or unauthorized occupancy.”

Matt Murdock’s reply is quick as lightning.

“Abandonment is not a specific ground for eviction according to the law.” ( He doesn’t bother reminding you under which law and in what section; he knows you’re smart enough to know. ) “The landlord is still required to follow eviction procedures and file a holdover case in Housing Court to prove anything, regardless of their concerns about damage or squatters.”

Then, to add insult to injury: “Though self-help eviction can be deemed practical— it cannot be legally justified,” he shrugs. “So the tenant’s rights are still violated.”

The class turns to you.

Your mouth opens, and shuts.

Murdock smiles.

( It’s hardly a triumphant one, considering you were set up for failure. Little context, and even less evidence— Mr. Lowell is notorious of knowing exactly how to punish his students without making it blatant. Had the tables been turned, Matt knows himself he’d have argued the exact same thing and lost the exact same way. )

“Thank you,” the Professor nods. “Well argued, Heckle and Jeckle.”

You take your seat.

Then:

…Matt’s smile drops.

“Hey, uh, Foggy, is she—?”

Foggy is telling him something, probably clapping him on the back for actually winning, but he’s tuned everything out in favor of listening to you.

Matt tilts his head to concentrate. “Is she, Is she okay?”

“Hah, after that? Probably n—”

“I’m serious, Fog.”

A blink.

The tone in his voice sends Foggy looking over his shoulder to look at you. “Not that I can tell?” he scrutinises. “Looks like her typical self. Not exactly wallowing, but maybe she's tired today?”

No, Matt doesn't say.

You’re… crying. Been crying.

He can hear your quiet sniffles; feel the hitching of your breath in the air; can taste the salt in it from where they’ve dried down your cheeks. Your bracelet tinkers as you down the remaining droplets of your cold brew.

“Something’s wrong,” Matt says, an hour later, for the third— Or fourth time? He’s not sure. He hasn’t been concentrating on whatever the lecturer has been saying, too busy paying attention to you.

“I can’t shake the feeling.”

“As someone who’s job one day involves taking hyper-educated guesses; I’m pretty sure she’s just stressed as hell. I mean, we’re law students. Even the great Ms. Heckle is bound to lose herself every once in a while, Matt.”

This is different, he wants to insist, even though the logical part of him is reasoning out the same answer. It wouldn’t hurt to check, though, if the nervousness he can practically feel radiating from your end of the room is really just workload-stress.

He’s devised a flimsy plan by the time the lesson is over. Flimsy, by way of meaning: he thought of it on the spot as everyone rushes out of class when the clock struck 4pm.

A clumsy bump. Brailled papers sent fluttering to the floor. Matt’s stellar acting as a blind man struggling to gather scattered work.

You curse and mutter an uncandid apology. “Didn’t see you.”

“Makes two of us,” Matt jokes, and once you’d neatly stacked his papers and returned it, goes:

“Heckle.”

He feels your gaze flick up to him.

“Jeckle.”

A pause. Matt flounders. He hadn’t really expected to get this far. ( Neither did Foggy, apparently, who he can feel peeking around the corner. )

“I…”

“Listen, Murdock, I’m not in the mood,” you sigh in the silence, and he can hear your bracelet charm again as you raise your hand to rake through your hair. “You won. Congrats. Is it not enough for you that I got caught with my pants down in front of everyone already?”

“No, that’s not— That’s not what I was gonna talk about. I just,” he fumbles, fidgeting with his satchel’s strap, “Wanted to know if… everything’s okay.”

You blink.

Matt waits for a scoff. The curt counter. The caustic remark. Then, like a record-scratch jerk on a vinyl:

“I’m fine. Thanks.”

A lie. And an uncharacteristically polite one. The beat pulses late, loud and clear in his ears.

And, perhaps most curiously:

That rush of bloodflow around your elbows, carefully hidden under your sleeves; the faint scent of coagulate pooling into a fresh haematoma and forming a shaped contusion on your arm.

A bruise.

You’re late for Advanced Legal Ethics on Tuesday.

Professor Abena is a strict Ghanaian woman who never tends to be lenient, but you tell her you’re late because of a dragged-out interview for an externship. She buys the lie.

Matt doesn’t, for obvious reasons.

The bruise on your arm has begun to fade. He wonders how long it’s been there.

You disappear too quick for him to ask.

You’re absent on Wednesday.

It’s hard to focus without you.

“Where’s your stale-mate, Mr. Jeckle?” Professor Nguyen jokes.

Wish I knew.

You miss MBE Prep.

Matt tries not to worry.

He offers to take the theory typescripts out the Professor’s hands to pass along to you— just so he gets the excuse to ask around if anybody knew where you were, or whether you had a roommate.

( No one’s exactly sure— apparently your only friend had dropped out a year ago due to some medical issue, and you’ve been a loner since. )

Foggy learns from Marci, though, that she’s pretty sure you stay in a single-dorm at Lenfest Hall.

Word-of-mouth reaches you by Friday that Matt Murdock had demolished four other students back-to-back on a practice Defamation case.

He’d apparently told Foggy he misses having competition.

You don’t smile, but… it’s a very close thing.

The Diamond Law Library on campus is gargantuan, so you’d practically jumped out your skin when someone decided to take the seat across your work-scattered table. At 9:45pm on a Saturday night, the library’s mostly a ghost town.

It’s Murdock.

Under the moon and the flaxen-dim lamplights, he’s painted more softly than you’ve ever seen him.

( Perhaps it’s the sweater and the mussed hair. Whatever it is, you’re just glad he can’t ever see you staring. )

He greets you in lieu of the usual head tilt:

“Heckle.”

“Jeckle.”

You continue before he can. “What do you want?”

( Blunt. Cursory. Borderline rude— he almost sighs in relief from the familiarity of it. )

“It’s more of: What does Professor Nguyen want,” Murdock says, inviting himself by folding his cane and resting it on the table to take a seat. “Remember the Legal Research assignment? She wants it done in pairs.”

Ah. So this is where it’s going. “There is absolutely no way in Hell that I’d partner with you, Murdock.”

“Ah, well,” he shrugs, nonchalant. “You were absent Wednesday. A little too late to say no. ‘Sides, she already noted I’m gonna be your partner.”

Something in your frontal lobe haywires. Words catch in your throat. Your palms are thrown wide. “What do you mean—?! Why the hell didn’t you partner with your ‘B.F.F’ Nelson?!”

( Someone shushes you in the distance. Matt almost laughs when he senses you flick a middle finger their way. )

“Because I have an advantage,” he states, matter-of-fact, and because it’s far better verbiage than saying ‘you need me’ to one of the world’s most independent and mule-headed people alive. “And I know it’ll hel—.”

“I don’t want your help,” you override, pen placed down with an impatient slap.

Murdock leans back against his seat. There’s a mien you see washing over him; the same calm, collected and cocky one that he always slips into whenever he’s called up for an answer or dialogue. Prepared for a fight.

“Listen, Heckle. It’s the final year, and we’re drowning in work. Now, I can tell by the fact that you’re here on a Saturday night that you’re behind on something, because I know I would be if I missed nearly a week of classes. What you need the most is time, and fortunately for you, working with me grants you that.”

A confused look. “You’re gonna buy me time?”

“Us,” he rights, cheekily, before explaining simply: “Me being visually impaired has its perks. I’m blind; considered disabled. And students with disabilities have the right to ease of access and accommodations.”

The chair creaks as you sink back into it. He can tell you’ve already connected the dots.

“Like an extra week for submissions,” you huff, resigned.

Matt drums his finger on the table edge. “A week and a half if I push it. I mean, Ms. Nguyen loves me. Can’t blame her, really.”

Another eye-roll, but with less heat this time. Matt knows the space of contemplative silence is really just for show in favour of protecting your ego. Which— fair enough. He’d have done the same.

“You’re holding a cudgel over my head,” you say, testy.

“I prefer to call it an olive branch. Speaking of which: Mr. Ravi from the prep course handed out a review guide…” He trails off as he feels for his bag, sliding out two spiral bound booklets and setting it on the table. It’s a compendium of notes for the final year bar exam.

A braille label is pasted on the top right corners of both books. His fingers read the raised dots, before he slides it across. “This is your copy.”

Your finger runs curiously at the dents translating your name.

Unbidden, you picture him domestic in his dorm room, meticulously taking the time to emboss a label to differentiate yours from his. The thought alone has you with half the mind to rip it off.

(You end up leaving it as is. Wouldn’t’ve made a difference if you did, anyway. Yeah.

Totally not because you find it endearing— No. Never.)

Coloured sticky notes with chicken-scratch writing are littered across some pages as you flip through. He must have heard you thumb at some of them, because he goes, “Oh, I got Foggy to annotate whatever you might’ve missed. I hear he’s got bad handwriting so, uh, I made him do it on post-its. If you can’t read it, you can ask him.”

( …God, he makes it hard to be pissed off at, sometimes. Maybe you just need more caffeine. )

“Mh. How thoughtful of you.”

It’s the closest thing to a sincere thank you he’s sure he’ll ever get. Matt has to bite back a smile. “You’re welcome, Heckle.”

You set the guide aside with your other study materials, ignore the nickname. “How’d you even find me here?”

He shrugs. “You won’t believe me even if I told you.”

“Try me.”

“Alright. I caught a whiff of coffee and misery a floor away and knew it could only be you,” Murdock jokes, smoothly. (Except it’s not a joke. He could smell your perfume and your cold brew from the stairwell.)

When you scoff, he makes a you-asked-for-it face. Before you can remark, though, he lets out a soft exhale. It’s honest.

“…Your bracelet.”

Realisation takes a moment. “You heard it?”

“I recognise it,” he emphasises. “Always makes a sound whenever we argue because you like to throw your hands around. Like tiny bells.”

That shouldn’t have felt more intimate than it sounds.

You breathe sharply out your nose. Press your tongue against your cheek. The air is charged with something, but not so much the keyed up kind you two share in a mock-trial. If anything, it almost feels right; as if he’d filled in a space you hadn’t yet realised was empty.

Margining a comfortable silence.

“Where’d you go?” Matt decides to finally ask, so imperceptibly that had you not been in the silence of the library, he doesn’t think you would’ve heard him. “Mock trials have been boring,” he adds, before he can even stop himself.

It’s a sliver of heart. Unforgivable sentiment to extend to his so-called nemesis.

He hears your heartrate spike. The sleeve of your jacket shifting as you fidget at your arm. The bruise is healed, now. Matt can’t tell if the adrenaline he can sense is borne from his question or his admission.

“I visited my friend in the hospital,” you say, turning your attention to your pens and highlighters instead as you put them away. “She was my roommate.”

Steady pulse; honest truth. “A week-long visit?”

“I caught something there and ended up sick.”

The fib is delivered so fluently he’d have been convinced if he hadn’t been listening to your heart. Matt breathes a sigh out his nose. He’ll have to try again another time, he supposes, and fortunately he’s bought plenty with you.

“Feeling better?”

You zip your pencil case sharply. Shut your laptop with an abrupt click. “Well, I was, until you came along. So, no.”

A lie. Beat late, loud and clear.

Matt Murdock tilts his head at you. Puppy-like, almost— as if he’s studying you.

Then he ducks his head and smiles.

It’s punctuated by the briefest slip of knowing, soft laughter; Has you tarrying over the flash of his canines; the dimple carving into his cheek; the windswept look of him in his stupid navy, cotton-light sweater.

…Boyishly handsome. It stuns you into place.

“I’ll see you Monday,” he avers, “Don’t be late, Heckle. Remember, we’re stale-mates, now.”

“Shut up,” you snap, bristling.

Somehow, against all odds—

It’s the least insulting tone you’ve taken with him yet.

( Matt considers it a win. )

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