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theetherealbloom · 6 months ago

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I LOVE THIS. GO READ THIS. RIGHT NOW.

LITERALLY DROP EVERYTHING AND READ THIS AAAAAA 🗣️🗣️🗣️

Happy Birthday, Javi!

summary: It’s the early morning of his 42nd birthday, and Javier is in the midst of having a very dirty dream when he’s awoken suddenly and finds out it wasn’t all in his head—his wife really is on top of him, something he loves waking up to.

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

rating: E (18+!! This is literally smut and fluff. No y/n, mostly Javier's POV but shifts to reader at the end, Husband Javier Peña, Dad Javier Peña, age gap (about ten years), explicit smut, unprotected p in v (wrap it up), consensual somnophilia, creampie (he’s told not to pull out), lactation kink, cockwarming if you squint, woman on top, Javier fighting for his life not to come immediately, he dreams reader is pregnant, Javier loving your postpartum body a lot, slight body worship, Javier being so in love, domestic fluff (IT’S SO FLUFFY), breastfeeding, Javier being the best dad, Javier and his son wearing matching outfits, Javier loving his wife and child so much, Javier getting the love and happiness he deserves)

word count: 4.4k

a/n: This can be read as a standalone or part of the Learning to Live ‘verse (it’s canon). This idea came to me at 4:30 in the morning, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Then I had a really rough week, and writing about Javi being a dad cheered me up (he’s very cute in this), and here we are. It’s close to being half dirty nasty smut and half domestic Javi-being-a-father fluff. I hope you enjoy! A big thanks to the love of my life, @juletheghoul for betaing!!

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

Series Masterlist - Masterlist

Winter has barely sunk its teeth into southern Texas, and already, when the sun retires for the evening, the temperatures have begun dropping below freezing—It’s so cold the home’s heat has kicked on, something that hardly happens for the majority of the year.

With the house warm and the blankets on their bed thicker to combat the season’s chill, Javier is snug and cozy beneath the covers, having fallen asleep with the woman he loves curled up in his arms.

It’s a deep sleep that’s taken him, the kind where you melt into the mattress and sink so far into your dreams the world fades away, and reality becomes whatever your mind conjures—Javier’s mind has transported him back to his fully furnished apartment in Colombia, the one with the leather couch, and the colorful afghan blanket that was already there when he moved in to try and make the place feel homey. He’s naked and sitting back on the sofa with a sheen of sweat all over his body, his skin sticking to the leather, a situation he’d been in so many times he’d lost count, but this one—Jesus Christ—this one is unforgettable.

The love of his life is in his lap, bouncing on his cock; he’s mapped out every inch of her body and memorized all the ways she likes to be touched to the point he can play her like a virtuoso of her pleasure, and he can’t help thinking how fucking beautiful she looks taking what she wants.

She’s his Cielito (little heaven), his amor (love), his wife, and the mother of his one-year-old son—and in this scenario, she’s also pregnant with their second child, which is riling him up when the soft swell of her belly bumps into him—fuck, he misses her being pregnant—he knows that look on her face means she’s about to come, and he’s going to get her there no matter what it takes.

Javier can feel her hot, wet cunt around him as she moves up and down; he can feel it so perfectly, the way she’s starting to squeeze his length and how she’s dripping down his shaft, the arousal in his gut burning like an inferno. Her perfect tits are right there in front of him, pearly dribbles of milk leaking from her nipples, causing his mouth to water at wanting to lick it all up, and he can’t help himself, carefully taking her breasts into his large hands, dipping his head forward—“Javi,” she moans, but it doesn’t come from inside his head, it’s something said into the room and has his consciousness slamming into him hard enough to jolt him awake.

It takes a second to process his surroundings, and when he realizes what is going on, he groans loudly, “Fuckkkkk,” drawing out the word; his entire body shudders, his dick twitching hard inside his wife—his wife who is currently riding him and has been riding him while he was asleep.

Their bedroom is bathed in darkness save for the glowing red numbers on each of their alarm clocks on their bedside tables and a sliver of light from a night light filtering through the cracked bathroom door. His head is cushioned on a pillow, the blankets are pushed down his body to where they’re bunched up at his feet, and all he can make out is her shape.

She braces herself with her hands on his chest for leverage and picks up pace, rising until just the tip of him remains and dropping her ass down, fucking herself on him over and over again—like in his dream, her pussy has a tight grip on him, all hot and wet, her need soaking him, and dripping down his cock to catch on his balls.

“Happy birthday, Javi,” she pants, now that he’s awake.

He’s hoarse, his voice deeper from sleep. “God, I fucking love you.” He grabs the tops of her thighs bracketing his hips, feeling her muscles flex beneath his palms as she moves.

“I love you, too.”

“Close your eyes,” he tells her and waits a beat. “Are they closed?”

“Yes,” she gasps, keeping the same tempo; this faster rhythm she’s going at is a rhythm that’ll have her coming quickly, which is good because Javier isn’t sure how long he’s going to last—he’s wound up so tight, his toes are curled, and he’s fighting for his life not to blow his load so soon without getting a chance to see her with the light on.

Immediately, he reaches over to the bedside table to turn on the lamp, squinting at the sudden brightness, and it takes a moment for his eyes to adjust, his palms resting on her thighs again.

When he can finally see, all of his attention is on the woman atop him and Christ, she’s even more gorgeous than in his dream; her head is thrown back, putting her kissable neck on display, her skin dewy with sweat, and there’s no baby bump, but it drives him just as crazy to see the reminders that she carried his child—the things she sometimes frowns at when she looks at herself in the mirror, and that he makes a point to show her how much he loves, worshiping the perfect imperfections with his lips and words, kissing her stretch marks, and constantly telling her how beautiful she is, always reassuring her that he thinks her body is perfect. Her incredible body that grew and feeds their son and makes Javier so fucking hard when he sees her naked.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says.

His hands slide up the soft skin of her belly to her ribs, and his eyes zero in on her tits jiggling as she uses him to make herself feel good; they’re bare, freely bouncing as she bounces on him, and they’re leaking—a flaming hot spike of arousal cuts through him, his eyes squeezing shut as he chants, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” He’s hanging on by a single, delicate thread and starts recounting the digits of Pi in his head to calm himself down: 3.14159265…

She’s so wet he can hear the fast, slick strokes of her working herself up and down his throbbing shaft, and it’s not helping that she’s no longer holding back her moans and is letting them slip unbidden from her perfect parted lips. After a few big, steady breaths, he gets to a point where he can look at her again without coming instantly. His jaw goes slack, his heart pounding in his ears—her eyes are glossy with pleasure as she watches him, a furrow between her brows, and her mouth slightly agape for her heavy breaths and intoxicating sounds; it’s a look that tells him she’s close to coming, and when that happens, she’s taking him with her.

“You good?” her question comes out breathy, and she slows to a grind, rubbing her clit against the coarse hair at the base of his dick—her legs must be tired—his attention is on her breasts, and he wants so badly to taste the liquid beading from her nipples, that’s dripping down her stomach.

His response is delayed. He licks his lips and meets her gaze, sweat glistening on his temple. His voice sounds strained, “Tell me you’re close.”

Because he’s balancing on a razor’s edge, and he sure as hell is not finishing before her.

She smiles. “I’m close.”

Thank fuck.

“Can I take over?”

“Please.”

That’s all the answer he needs—he tugs her down to have them chest to chest, and with an arm around her, he rolls them so he’s on top and still inside her. His knees dig into the mattress, and he lifts her legs high up on his ribs for a better angle; his arms framing her head hold up most of his weight, and then his hips are moving, matching the fast, hard rhythm she was going at before she got tired that’ll have her coming in two, maybe three minutes.

“Oh, god,” she moans. “Don’t stop.” Her hands are on his ass, her nails digging into his flesh. “Oh, fuck it’s so good—you’re gonna make me come—make me come.”

His eyes are closed, his teeth clenched as he does his best to stave off his looming orgasm. The wet smack of skin on skin sounds in the room, his wife mewling beneath him, and Javier grunting with each deep kiss of his cock into her inner depths; arousal is drooling from her pussy, slicking up his strokes so he can easily pound into her, and Javier is dangerously close and needs to get her off sooner rather than later.

Some days she’s okay with her tits being played with, and others, she doesn’t want them touched at all; with her purposefully not wearing a bra—a rare occasion since she’s still breastfeeding—it’s her way of telling him he has free reign as long as he’s gentle. He puts all of his weight onto one arm to free up a hand he palms her breast with while the snap of his hips continues. Javier ducks his head down, wrapping his lips around her pebbled nipple, gingerly sucking; her back arches beneath him, and he groans as a spurt of the sweetness hits his tongue, his cock jerking.

She’s so sensitive that all it takes is another suck, and she’s cresting with a cry of his name, her body seizing up, and her pussy clamping down on him hard enough his pace stutters, and his breath catches in his throat—he’s going to come.

His mouth leaves her, his balls tightening, his thrusts turning frantic, and he has a split second where he thinks a rational thought—he can’t come inside her, he has to pull out, she doesn’t want to get pregnant until they experience the terrible twos with their firstborn. The realization has him panting out, “Shit, I’m coming.”

When he goes to get off of her, he finds that her legs are locked around him, stopping him from moving away. He looks at her with wild eyes, and her own are closed, her mouth turned up in a happy little smile.

“Then come,” she tells him.

“Are you sure?” He’s clenching hard to hold the orgasm at bay, his heart feeling like it’s going to beat right out of his chest.

Her eyes open, and she gives him a bigger smile. “Yes—Happy Birthday, Javi.”

Her answer has a choked whine leaving his throat, his dick pulsating; he’s at the point of no return where he couldn't stop himself from coming even if he wanted to—he’s a goner. His head drops against her shoulder, closing his eyes as his hips start moving fast, all of the nerves in his body lit up like the fourth of July. The muscles in his belly are coiling, winding tight, and then it’s game over; Javier pushes into her as far as he can go, his balls drawing up, and he shatters with a ragged moan. His cock jerks as spurts and spurts of his come gush inside her, euphoria exploding out from his center to take over every cell in his body, and it doesn’t seem to end as it continues pulsing through him in aftershocks.

He comes so hard all thoughts leave his brain, and everything goes black, Javier so wrung out that his arms give out.

—★—

He has no idea how much time passes.

What he does know is that his face is pressed into the crook of his wife’s neck, where she smells like the fruity body wash she used in the shower before bed with a salty hint of sweat. His scalp is tingling as her fingertips trail all over it. He’s still coming down and so relaxed that he’s practically boneless. Javier smiles, pressing a kiss to her skin.

“You come back to earth, yet?” she whispers.

He’s still inside her, and she feels so fucking good around him he doesn’t want to pull out, but he knows she’s probably uncomfortable under his weight—he grips her thigh, holding it against his hip to roll them to their sides without dislodging himself. He hugs her in his arms, peppering her neck in kisses, and his words come out muffled. “Pretty sure I’m still on cloud nine.”

She huffs in amusement, her fingers still in his hair. “Good way to wake up?”

His lips are on the underside of her jaw. “The best way to wake up.”

“I’m glad you liked it—Happy Birthday, babe.”

He kisses her chin, then her lips all slow and tender, wanting her to feel his love and devotion, his gratitude and appreciation for the perfect life she’s given him; years ago, at the beginning of their relationship, she asked him what he wanted in life, and he told her, a marriage founded in love, a dog, a house, happiness, and her—he wanted the American dream of a wife, dog, and white picket fence, but back then he didn’t think he was worthy of the two and a half kids, even though deep down he desperately wished he was.

And this incredible woman gave him everything he wished for and the greatest gift of all—fatherhood.

Agustín ‘Gus’ Jesús Peña was born the same year they were married, and even though he arrived a month before it, Javier considers him the best birthday present he’s ever gotten in his entire life—nothing would ever top becoming a father for his forty-first birthday, except maybe them having another baby.

They break apart, and he nudges her nose with his. “Thank you, mi amor.” For everything, he leaves unsaid.

“You’re welcome.” She pecks his lips. “We should probably go and shower since our child inherited your morning-person genes and will be up soon.” She yawns.

He lifts his head to look over at the alarm clock on the bedside table, his eyes squinting as he reads the numbers; it’s a bit past five, and she’s right, their son is an early riser, and he’ll be up within the hour.

He kisses her again. “You don’t have to get up with us morning-people, Cielito,” he says. “You took the day off—“ It’s a Wednesday in December, and she’d gone back to working full time after her maternity leave because she loves her job. “—so, go back to bed after we shower and sleep in a little. Mornings are my thing, anyway. I always get up with him.”

She moves her head to meet his gaze, smiling. “You’re very sweet.” She lightly pats his cheek. “And I’m sorry for intruding on your guy time. I know he’s your little morning buddy, but my boobs are leaking really bad, and I need him to help his mama out.”

“I could help his mama out…”

She laughs, and he frowns. “If we weren’t on a time crunch, I’d say yes; unfortunately, we are on a time crunch, and it’s impossible for you to put your mouth anywhere near my tits without getting unbelievably horny.”

He sighs. She’s not wrong. “Fine.” He smacks her bare ass and quickly kisses her. “I love you—let’s get going.”

—★—

Their toddler woke up after they showered and dressed in lounging clothes—Javier, a pair of grey sweatpants, his wife, an oversized T-shirt, a nursing bra, and her panties—they’d actually get dressed later on when the sun had risen. They heard their child stir while they were finishing changing out the sheets on their bed, and Javier went to get him, even though she protested that it was his birthday and she’d do it.

A diaper change, and a few minutes later, found the Peñas in their bedroom, his wife lying in bed on her side with her shirt shoved up and out of the way for their toddler to nurse, and Javier spooning her from behind, his arm over her, and his palm resting against the little one’s back. He loves his regular morning routine with his son, where they sit in the rocking chair he built, which lives in the child’s room, and he feeds him his bottle of warmed milk. But the mornings where the three of them cuddle together while Gus eats are hands down his favorite—he just hates remembering one day their kid will outgrow this—he’ll get big and won’t need to nurse anymore, and he’ll no longer be Javier’s sweet, little baby who greets him every morning with a big gummy smile, that’s now a big one-toothed smile.

He can hear their son suckling, and Cielito coos, “Is that my nose?” It makes Javier’s lips turn up. Gus has loved to poke people’s noses ever since they started teaching him parts of the body.

He nuzzles his face against the back of his wife’s head and thinks it’ll be okay his nene (baby boy) is growing—it's a new adventure in parenting having a toddler, and he’s their first child, after all. They need all the practice they can get before they have more babies, something Javier can’t wait for.

—★—

When asked what he wanted to do for his birthday, he gave the same answer he did the prior year: he wanted to spend the day with his wife and kid. Last year, they stayed at home with their newborn, and his dad came over to have dinner with them, bringing a tres leches cake his tía (aunt) made. This year? He wants to go out with them, starting with breakfast at the diner, then a walk around downtown to see all of the Christmas decorations and do a little shopping, maybe a stop at the park, or they could go on a drive so Gus can nap, and they’ll end their day having dinner with his father at a restaurant; in other words, Javier wants to show off his perfect family to everyone in town.

It’s later in the morning, and they’re preparing to leave for breakfast—he’s fully dressed in dark-wash jeans and a baby blue short-sleeved button-up his wife picked out for him so he’d match the sweater she’s wearing, and she insisted on getting their kid ready; it was one of those times where he knew he wouldn’t win, so he stood down, and let her do her thing while he put their dirtied sheets into the washer, unloaded the dryer, fed their dog—a two-year-old beagle named Bandido—and Javier is currently, setting down the dog’s full water bowl next to his food, the beagle nowhere in sight.

“Javi?” Cielito calls on her way to the kitchen. He can hear the soft padding of her socked feet on their hardwood floor and the patter of the dog following her.

Gus speaks before him, “Mama, dido!”

“Yes, baby,” his wife replies, the smile evident in her voice. “Bandido is down there.”

She addresses Javier again, “Babe?”

“Yes, Cielito?”

“Don’t look yet—” He straightens and continues facing the wall, smiling and wondering what her surprise is. “—but do you have your camera out there?”

“Yeah,” he answers. It’s sitting on their kitchen island’s marble countertop nearby since he’ll be bringing it with them.

“Okay, good.” Seconds later, she’s in the same room. “Turn around, Javi.”

Javier doesn’t wait another second and spins to face them. He sucks in a breath—his grinning wife has on a cable-knit sweater in a similar color to his shirt and black leggings, and their son, in her arms, is wearing the exact same outfit as Javier; same color shirt, same wash of jeans, he’s even got on a pair of brown Chelsea boots like his, and she put him in a matching black leather jacket to the one Javier planned to wear when they left. If all of that isn’t the cutest fucking shit he’s ever seen, she stuck a fake tiny mustache on the baby.

As Gus has grown and his features have become more pronounced, all it took is one look to know who his father is; their shared eyes, nose, eyebrows, chin, and dimple in their cheeks, he’s a miniature version of his dad, and with him all dressed up like Javier and the mustache, they looked exactly alike much to his delight.

The tiny leather jacket creaked as the one-year-old held out his arms toward his father, “Papá!”

“Oh, papito!” Javier says, smiling big. He briskly walks toward them, scooping up his son, making him giggle as he kisses all over his face. He holds him in one arm to look at him, smoothing his other hand over the soft, baby hair. “Mira lo guapo que eres! (Look how handsome you are)!” He rubs the child’s cheek with his thumb. “Mi nene lindo (My cute baby boy). ¿Tu mamá te vistió como yo (Did your mom dress you like me)? ¿Eres mi gemelo hoy (Are you my twin today)?”

Gus grins at him, his one tooth peeking up from behind his bottom lip. His chubby little hand reaches towards Javier’s face, pointing at it, and the man closes the distance so the baby pokes the tip of his nose.

“¿Es esa mi nariz? (Is that my nose)? ¿Dónde está tu nariz (Where’s your nose)?”

The child gestured to his own. “Correcto, papito (That’s right, papito),” he says. Javier hugs the baby to him and kisses the top of his head. He lifts his face, focusing on his wife, who’d grabbed the camera, his eyes softening.

“I love this,” he tells her.

She smiles. “I know, and I know that yes, you want to spend the day out and about with us, but you also want to flaunt us around town because you love when people comment on how cute our family is—I figured we’d up the cuteness.” She shrugs. “They’re gonna go nuts at you two twinning and all of us color coordinating. I even told your dad to wear baby blue when we go to dinner tonight. Happy Birthday, Javi. I love you.”

“Come here,” he says, holding out his free hand, and she takes it, Javier pulling her close enough to wrap his arm around her, gazing into her eyes. “I love you, too.” He kisses her, and Gus starts happily squealing—as they’ve done many times before, their mouths separate, and they turn their attention to the toddler, each choosing a cheek that they press many loud, smacking kisses to, their son laughing, a sound Javier loves so much.

This is the fucking dream, and he’s living it. He’s never been happier.

Without a doubt, marrying Javier Peña is the best and easiest decision you’ve ever made in your entire life. He hates that he settled down so late, but for you, his age is a perk—he’s mature, experienced, and he took your relationship seriously; he didn’t want to play around. He was more than ready for commitment and marriage.

What it came down to is that you hit the husband jackpot. Javier is a man who loves you more than anything and gives you all of his devotion. He’s caring, sweet, amazing in bed, and absolutely the best father in the world to your child.

There’s nothing better than watching him be a doting dad. Right this second, you’re walking down a sidewalk downtown after having breakfast; Javi’s holding his tiny twin, who removed his fake mustache on the car ride to the restaurant, wearing their leather jackets to keep warm, while you push the stroller. The father keeps stopping at store windows for Gus to see the pretty, colorful holiday lights and decorations.

Practically everyone at the diner stopped by your table to comment on the matching father-son duo’s adorableness, and on your walk, many people have said how cute they are, which has Javi over the moon with happiness. Just moments ago, an elderly couple approached you and were delighted when your son waved and greeted them with, “Hi!” They told Javi he had a beautiful family, and he’s still beaming from the compliments.

The happy man is strolling along beside you. He leans your way and whispers, “I want another.”

“Another what?” you ask, keeping your focus forward. There aren’t too many shoppers out.

“Another baby.”

An exasperated breath leaves you, and you glance at him. “You always want another baby.”

He’s smirking under his perfect mustache. “Yeah, I do—we should go for it.”

“I love you, Javi, and I know it’s your birthday, but my answer is no. Not yet—we’re waiting.”

He pouts. “If your answer is no, then why didn’t you let me pull out this morning?”

Pulling out isn’t the best birth control method. Still, you didn’t want to get back on the pill or do anything that fucked with your already fucked postpartum hormones, and the two of you would rather risk pregnancy than use condoms—you’re married, financially stable, want more kids, have extra space in your home—if any of this weren’t the case, he’d be wrapping up, as it was, an accidental pregnancy wouldn’t be the end of the world; It’s simply your preference to hold off on another kid until you see what your firstborn is like as a two-year-old.

You also keep track of your cycle, and the chances of him knocking you up are currently slim to none.

“Because birthdays are a day to indulge in things you don’t normally get to, so cream pies are back on the menu today.” You wag your eyebrows, and his eyes widen, seeing his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

“All day…?” he asks.

You smile. “Yes.”

He suddenly stops, and you do, too, facing him.

“Turn around, we’re going home,” he says, his chocolate-colored eyes darker.

“Javier,” you giggle. “You have a whole day planned!”

“Sure, but that was before I knew all of my options—we’re going home, Gus is taking a nap, and we’re gonna fold a hell of a lot of laundry.” Folding laundry is your codeword for sex that you use in front of your toddler and around other people so you don’t scandalize anyone.

“Javi?”

His tongue peeks out, swiping along his bottom lip. “Yes, Cielito?”

Your hand leaves the stroller to press your palm to his leather jacket-covered bicep, looking at him through your lashes. “It was going to be a surprise, but your dad is taking Gus for the night after dinner.”

The smile he gives you is blinding.

“Christ, I love you so fucking much.” And the way he ends his sentence is to wrap his arm around your waist and tug you toward him so he can crush his lips to yours in a searing kiss, Gus cooing on his other side.

Your words are muffled against his mouth between kisses, “Happy Birthday, Javi.”

He sounds just as distorted, “I love you.”

Series Masterlist - Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know!

#pedro pascal #wheresarizona writes #learning to live series #ethereal writes #etherealupdates #etherealficrecs #etherealasks #joel miller x reader #ethereal fic recs

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theetherealbloom · 2 years ago

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LITERALLY ATE LEFT NO CRUMBS PLS READ THIS I BEG YOU LIKE BINGE READ IT IF YOU HAVENT YET OR REREAD IT ISTG T^T <3

SEEING YOU, SEEING ME THE COMPLETED SERIES

After handling a life-or-death favor for Tess, you're in deep shit. Until she can make things right, she suggests you lay low at her place for the week. The issue? It's also Joel Miller's place, and you're pretty sure he hates you.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader (Joel x You) Rating: Explicit ( 18+ ) Word Count: 16K Tags: No Spoilers; Pre-TLOU, Mentions of death and violence, Age gap/difference, Slow burn, Angry!Joel, Eventual Smut, Semi-Enemies to Fuckers, Alcoholism, Mention of drug abuse, Masturbation, Manhandling, Light choking, Slight Sadism, Touch starved idiots, Guided Masturbation, Oral sex (f/m receiving), Protected p-i-v (wrap before you tap!), Dirty talk, Pet names, Open-ended epilogue Series Playlist: Found on Spotify

CHAPTERS

01. THERE, EVERYWHERE

02. BREAK IT TO ME GENTLY

03. THEY ARE TWO ALONE

04. CAN'T QUIT YOU, BABY

05. IN THE AIR TONIGHT

06. REACH OUT, TOUCH FAITH

EPILOGUE

ADDITIONAL STORIES

reckless. (a future one-shot.)

( Visit the AO3 story. )

#etherealficrecs #joel miller fic rec

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theetherealbloom · 1 year ago

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NAHHHHH. NOPE. NOPE.

ELEKTRA I CAN SMELL YOU FROM HERE.

I CAN ALSO SMELL THE INSECURITIES BEGINNING TO FORM NAURRRRR T^T I'm excited, yet, I'm not prepared for the next arc of angst. I might go insane. ALSO I hope you're feeling better Bella! You got this girlie and drink your water lovieeee <3

Falling For the Devil [Part ninety-one: "The Hepling Hand"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: You worry Matt has been injured when you realize he didn't wake you after returning home for the evening.

Or You offer Matt a helping hand to relax in the shower.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock. You can find the entire list of installments here.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut, violence

a/n: This one took me a bit to get edited but it's finally here! Enjoy the slight angsty hints and the smut. Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag List: @ninacotte @mattkinsella @stilldreaming666 @murdocksclient @madscamp02 @1988-fiend @linamarr @pinkratts @schneeflocky @acharliecoxedfan @yarrystyleeza @theetherealbloom @danzer8705 @lionalsowrites @harperdoodle @kmc1989 @lunaticgurly @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @pazii

"Mmmph," you groaned out, face half-buried in a pillow.

The sound of the shower running down the hall quickly reached your ears over the soft chatter on the television nearby. Slowly stirring awake on the couch, you were vaguely aware of Mittens laying stretched along the length of you. He let out a faint mew of protest when you shifted again, your leg nudging him. But as you gradually woke up, you were becoming more aware of the fact that Matt had returned home and hadn't woken you from your place on the couch. Usually he did before he even changed out of his suit, especially because he knew you were often curled up here with Mittens waiting for him to return home.

Pushing yourself upright on the couch, you maneuvered your legs around Mittens who curled tight into a ball as you moved, clearly not interested in waking up with you. Placing your feet onto the floor, you rubbed a hand over your tired eyes as you tried to further wake up. You’d had a long day at the office and had been worn out when you'd finally gotten home, but you always refused to go to bed until Matt came home and snuggled up beside you under the sheets. You always had to know he'd returned to you safe and sound or you wouldn't be able to truly sleep for the night–which was why Matt often found you waiting on the couch for him.

Turning off the television and rising from the couch, you shuffled your way down the short hallway and towards the bathroom, the sound of running water growing louder as you neared it. Matt didn't usually shower after a night out as the Devil unless something was wrong or he'd been injured, and the fact that he’d come home without waking you before he showered only had worry further churning in your stomach. You hoped it was just that he was stressed and not because he was covered in his own blood.

Opening the bathroom door, you stepped inside and flipped on the light. Through the steamed up glass of the shower door you saw Matt's head turn in your direction, probably noticing your presence and hearing the sudden hum of the light bulbs.

"Matty?" you called out. "Are you okay? You didn't wake me when you got home."

"I'm fine, sweetheart," Matt called back.

You frowned at the sound of his voice. He sounded exhausted and more worn out than usual and that only increased your concern for him. Stepping further into the bathroom, you pulled your shirt overhead without a moment's hesitation. After tossing it onto the floor, you began to slip out of your sweatpants and underwear, dropping them to the bathroom floor next. Reaching a hand out, you slid the shower door open as steam immediately wafted out towards you.

Matt's head turned in your direction once again, the spray of the shower running in rivulets down his hair and his face. Your eyes openly surveyed him as you stood there, scanning him over for injuries. He had a few bruises on his body and a cut along his lip, which was more than he usually came home with when he was out in that red suit, but otherwise he seemed alright. Though that didn't stop you from wincing at the sight, knowing he must have been sore and miserable.

Wordlessly you stepped into the shower with him, noticing how Matt didn't move as you closed the door behind yourself. He remained facing the front of the shower, silently letting the water cascade down his body. Something seemed off with his mood, you could just feel it in the way he was hunched forward on himself, his shoulders tensed up beside his neck. He hadn't made a comment about you joining him, either.

Making your way behind him, you gently wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled your naked front to his naked back until you were flush against him. Turning your head, you pressed your cheek against his warm, damp skin and closed your eyes, letting the water softly fall over you both. One of Matt's hands wrapped over the top of yours, holding it lightly.

"You sure you're alright?" you asked him. "You seem awfully quiet, Matt.”

“Just a rough night, sweetheart,” he muttered. “I’m fine, I promise.”

“You’re hurt,” you pointed out. “There’s bruises and a cut on your lip. What happened?”

Matt sighed, his hand brushing back and forth along your forearm affectionately, but the gesture felt tired in itself. Brows knitting together, a frown tugged at your lips once more. Something was definitely going on with him.

“Some things…happened tonight. And they got out of hand for a bit because of–” he broke off, his muscles tensing in your embrace so noticeably that your eyes flew open, “– someone .”

Shifting your head along his back, you glanced up at what you could see of his face. His head was half turned back towards you, the muscle jumping in his cheek in obvious irritation. Whoever this someone was had clearly gotten under his skin tonight.

“What?” you asked curiously. "What got out of hand?"

Matt huffed out an annoyed breath, shaking his head. His hand lightly patted your arm as he spoke. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. There's just someone from my past that I…thought was gone. Now they’re back and I’m…not exactly thrilled .”

“Who are–”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, cutting you off. “We’ve come to an agreement. Hopefully. I’m just frustrated, that’s all. Didn’t want to wake you when I came in because I was hoping to calm down first.”

Drawing yourself away from his back a bit, you studied the hunch of his shoulders and the tension in his back muscles. Gradually your hands slid upwards, moving along the hard plane of his soaked, broad chest. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you admittedly wanted to know more about what had happened tonight–wanted to know who had shown up from his past. Because this wasn't a mood you'd ever seen Matt in after doing one of his patrols. This was different. He seemed entirely drained after dealing with whoever it was he had encountered.

As you stood there studying the back of Matt, your hands absently tracing patterns along the warm, wet skin of his chest, a thought crossed your mind. Something you figured might help turn his night around, or at the very least, relieve some of the obvious tension in his body.

“Do you…want me to help you relax?” you asked softly.

Matt’s head tilted further towards you over his shoulder, his eyes tightening. “What?” he asked.

You shrugged lightly behind him. "You seem frustrated and tense. I was wondering if I could help you relax a little."

There was a long pause after you'd spoken, the sound of the water hitting the shower tiles loud in the silence between you both. For quite a few seconds he'd stood there motionless, somewhat still focused on you over his shoulder. You were beginning to think he was going to flat out refuse you before he finally broke the quiet.

"What'd you have in mind?" he asked.

Smiling slightly, you turned your attention to his back before you. Leaning forward, you gently pressed your lips to his warm skin. Immediately he sucked in a breath as your lips lingered on him, his muscle twitching beneath your mouth. Gradually your lips slid up, beginning to trail a line of soft kisses up the length of his back, right along the column of his spine. You felt the way he shuddered in your arms, your hands continuing to lightly trace their way around his chest as your lips moved. Though when the pad of your index finger brushed over his nipple, you heard the deep moan that rumbled out of him.

Your mouth paused at the beautiful sound, lingering against his skin just along his spine. Your smile widened along him as you dragged your hand back, your finger grazing his nipple again. Matt sucked in a sharp breath in response, his hips slightly jerking forward when the pad of your finger circled the stiff peak.

"That feel good?" you whispered against his skin.

"Everything you're doing right now does," he whispered back. "You always feel so good."

Turning your attention back to him, you placed another soft kiss along his back before you lightly nipped at the muscle beside his shoulder blade. Matt gasped, his hands flying forward and landing flat on the tile wall before him as if he needed to hold himself upright. As you continued to lightly nip at his skin, you began to slide your hands leisurely down the front of Matt’s body, feeling every dip of his toned muscles. You carefully dragged your nails along his skin as your hands moved, enjoying every twitch of his muscles beneath your touch as it traveled ever downwards.

"Oh, sweetheart ," he breathed out.

Pressing the front of yourself further to the back of Matt, both of your hands stopped their descent at the base of his cock. Slowly your fingers drew circles in the trimmed, dark hair there, your hands occasionally brushing against him. You quickly became aware that he was growing hard just at the anticipation of your touch.

"You do so much for this city, Matty," you whispered, planting another kiss along his back and hearing the way he whimpered. "You do so much for me," you continued, tongue slipping out before delicately running over the line of his shoulder blade. Your hands slid upwards, tracing their way along his hip bones. "Always so selfless and hard working."

Matt let out a whine, his fingers digging into the tile wall as the warm spray of water continued to pour over you both. A tinge of pride grew in you at still being able to have such an effect on him, at drawing forth those little breathy, needy whines that you loved whenever he made them. At how much he already seemed to be struggling to keep himself together.

"You deserve to be taken care of," you murmured. "Let me take care of you tonight."

"Always so–so good to me," he stammered breathlessly.

Hands sliding down, you ran them over the front of his thick thighs. You felt the shiver that ran up his body as your fingers tenderly massaged the large muscles of his legs, your fingers tangling in the dark little hairs covering them.

"Because I love you, Matt," you told him.

His head fell back over his shoulders at your voice, his eyes clamped shut. His teeth were clearly grit together as you finally dragged your right hand up towards the base of his cock.

" Fuck ," he ground out. "I love you so much, sweetheart."

His hips gave a jolt as you curled your hand around the base of him firmly, a deep rumbling moan tumbling out of his mouth. Grinning at how hard he already was, your other hand gently raked your nails up his thick left thigh through the dark, damp hair covering it. You could feel the way his hips twitched in response, struggling to remain still.

"I'll help you relax," you whispered. "Don't worry, Matty."

Beginning to slide your hand along the length of his cock, your own eyelids fluttered at the delicious moan he loosed into the shower next. It sounded so damn good to your ears as you continued to stroke him, your other hand gradually making its way to cradle his balls. You couldn't help but feel a jolt of pleasure shoot through you in response to the faint sighs slipping out of him.

"That's it, Matty," you praised him. "Let me take care of you tonight."

His breath audibly hitched at your voice, goosebumps rippling across his skin underneath your arms that were still wrapped around him. You could feel his body tensing against the front of yours as you continued to languidly stroke him in your hand. His obvious pleasure eased any worry you’d had from when you'd first stumbled on him for the moment as you focused once more on trailing kisses along his back. Matt moaned again, his hips jerking forward into your hand a few times.

Encouraged by his involuntary movements, your hand began to pump him faster. The sound of Matt’s sharp, panting breaths began to grow louder than the sound of the running water itself as you worked his eager cock in your hand. A soft moan left you as you became aware of every pulsing vein as you stroked him, your pace continuing to increase with the tempo of his breaths.

You could tell he was already growing close to his release by the noises he was soon making. The high pitched, desperate whimpers were a particularly favorite sound of yours. You knew it was because his cock always became quite sensitive when he was nearing his release, especially with those heightened senses of his. It was something you’d long since picked up on with him in the bedroom. You loved watching him like this because it wasn't often he let you solely give him pleasure.

“Oh, fuck, that–that feels so good,” he ground out through what sounded like gritted teeth.

Without warning, Matt’s left hand flew back from off the wall and helplessly reached around, grabbing at your hip. You gasped in surprise at his rough touch, his blunt nails clawing at your skin. Though your hand didn’t cease its determined movements stroking his cock. A rumbling growl vibrated in Matt’s chest as you continued, one that you could feel with your chest still flush to his back.

“So close,” he ground out, his hips jerking forwards more frantically into your hand as if he couldn't control it. “So– fucking –close.”

“That’s it, baby,” you whispered, your left hand releasing his balls and sliding all the way back up to brush back over his nipple. “Let go for me.”

He whined when the pad of your index finger began to circle the stiff peak of his nipple again, the sound causing your cunt to clench. His left hand that was on you abruptly slid further downwards, coming to firmly grip your ass instead of your hip. His nails dug deep into your soft flesh, his grip drawing your hips flush to his backside and almost rocking you with the motion of his own.

“Oh, God,” he breathed out, head once again rolling back over his shoulders. “I’m–”

He didn’t finish his sentence. Instead, you heard the deep, long throaty groan fly from his mouth and fill the shower while you felt the warm gush of his release coat your hand, dripping between your fingers. For a moment you continued to work him through it until you noticed the way his hips twitched in overstimulation. Placing one last kiss to his back, you unwrapped your arms from around his waist and rinsed your hand off in the spray.

You’d barely done much more than that before Matt turned on the spot, quickly enveloping you in his strong arms and burying his face into your hair. Careful of the bruises on his body, you slipped your arms around his waist and rested your head along his chest. His arms squeezed tight around you as he nuzzled his face further into your hair.

“I love you,” Matt murmured. “You know that, right?”

“Of course I do,” you answered, brows knitting together in confusion at his odd behavior this evening. “And I love you, too, Matt. Not a number far enough from one, right?”

He shifted above you, pressing his lips to the top of your head in a kiss. “Never a number far enough from one, sweetheart,” he whispered back before placing another soft, lingering kiss. “Always remember that. No matter what.”

Your eyes gradually fell closed in his warm embrace as you nodded, trying to relax in his arms. “I won't, Matty,” you assured him.

Though as you both held each other under the shower spray in silence, Matt still affectionately nuzzling his nose into your hair like he couldn't get enough of you, you were left wondering what had shaken him up so much this evening to act so out of the ordinary tonight.

#matt murdock x reader #etherealficrecs #ethereal reblog #ethereal fic reviews #ethereal fic recs #etherealficrec

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theetherealbloom · 1 year ago

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literally gold right here!! Deserves all the praise 🤸‍♂️✨

last updated 14/09/23 all of my fics in one place! you can also find me on my ao3 🖤

all fics include smut & f!reader unless stated otherwise Joel Miller

one shots:

movie night

just a game

toolbox

Javier Peña

one shots:

say my name

stress relief

orange light - (angst-y)

recommended dose of dick

series:

stay the night - you are javier's on-and-off again fling but an assassination attempt drives you into hiding. javier still visits you and you finally try to get him to stay for just one night after he fucks you.

stay - (smut, angst)

leave - (smut, angst)

rest - (smut, fluff)

Agent Whiskey

one shots:

taste of sugar

forget

better than flowers

bull ride

Dieter Bravo

series:

work affairs - loose collection of you as Dieter's PA

working overtime

the best PA

the bet

Oberyn Martell

one shots:

his sun

series:

the viper and the sun - a series of one shots of the life of Oberyn, the Red Viper and his wife, his Sun

art of Oberyn and his wife made by @aurasjournal

stripes of a tiger

a bond formed of love

Ezra

one shots:

helping you shine

Frankie Morales

one shots:

go camping, they said

Maxwell Lord

one shots:

anything you want - (subby Maxwell)

congratulations - (subby Maxwell)

Dave York

one shots:

just a piece

#etherealficrecs #etherealficreviews #ethereal fic recs #pedro pascal x reader #javier pena x you #din djarin x reader #jack daniels x reader #oberyn martell x reader

831 notes · View notes

theetherealbloom · 9 months ago

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How do I keep this fic series xeroxed, photocopied, and downloaded in my brain ?!??

MISS MAAM I WILL NEVER GET TIRED OF HAVING YOUR MECHANIC!JOEL FICS. You are an absolute legend and gem for writing this. Literally sent by the gods. I will write songs in your honor and name miss maam. Ilysm I’m sending you kisses and hugs 😭🤍

DECLINED | Mechanic!Joel x f!reader

*The Oil Change*

Summary: Joel decides to give you a lesson in changing oil... Rating: 18+ Explicit Word Count: 4k Warnings: Pre-Outbreak AU, mechanic!Joel, f! masturbation, fingering, squirting, power dynamic shift, submission, overstimulation, unprotected piv sex, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names (babydoll, darlin', cowboy), ROUGH sex, creampie, lots of banter, questionable information on how to change oil, joel being the MAN that he is A/N: Just a fun lil drabble about our two favorite people ever... also, I am definitely NOT a qualified mechanic with this story, so pls don't follow these instructions when changing your oil lol unless you want to include a mind-blowing orgasm to the mix

Masterlist | Ko-fi

“Okay, so what now?” You asked, staring at the engine of your car.

It was a quiet Saturday at the shop, and Joel had insisted on teaching you how to change the oil. You were ready to get greased up with the car on a jack and the hood open. Joel leaned over the car, pointing to the oil cap beside the engine.

“See that? That’s where the oil is. We gotta check the levels first before changin’ it,” he explained.

“So… just unscrew it and look into it?” You sounded like a typical dumb girl in a mechanic shop.

Joel was patient with you, though, and far too eager to teach you the ropes. Untwisting the oil cap, he pulled out a long stick beside it, covered in dark liquid. Holding it on the base of a dirty towel, he presented it to you, pointing at the lines on the bottom of it.

“S’called a dipstick,” he said. “Those lines on the bottom show your fuel levels. If it’s below that line, means you needa change it. What’s it sayin’, babydoll?”

You inspected the dipstick and saw the oil coating it under the line. So far, so easy.

“Says I need new oil,” you nodded.

Joel hummed his approval, putting the dipstick back into its spot and leaving the oil cap open. Rounding the car, he pulled up some sort of flat-rolling device. He nodded his head over to it, wordlessly instructing you to follow him. He put it at the side of your car, moving it back and forth to show you how it worked.

“This’ll help you get under the car. S’called a creeper. You just lay down on it and slide under. Think you can do it or want to watch me work?”

You contemplated it, knowing you had seen him on it plenty of other times. You spent countless afternoons watching him lying on the underside of a vehicle, with his thighs flexing under his jeans and his shirt riding up to expose his lower stomach. He always had a particular look when he came back out from under the cars, his hair disheveled and a stupid grin plastered on his face. For such a simple job, Joel sure did love it.

“I can do it,” you decided. “You can’t be the only one getting all greased up and dirty.”

Joel smirked at you, his hand coming to palm your ass. Leaning into his touch, you pecked him on the cheek and lowered yourself onto the creeper. Staring up at him, you gave him a questioning look as if to ask what now? Pressing his word boot against your shoe, he slid you under the car slowly, your view of him being replaced by the underside of your car. Everything looked just as confusing as it did under the hood. Joel pushed an empty metal pan under with you, along with a wrench and a towel.

“Alright, babydoll,” he said, his voice closer as he crouched down. “This is where it’ll get messy. Just listen to my instructions, and you’ll be fine.”

“I’m trusting you with my life,” you grumbled. “Don’t let me get covered in oil down here, cowboy.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, babydoll. Now, take a look up and find the drain plug. Should look like a lil’ metal screw. You got it?”

Your eyes scanned upwards, straining until you settled on the screw. You grabbed the wrench and lined it up with the screw.

“I just unscrew it?” you hollered.

“Wait! Hold on, babydoll!” Joel called out.

You heard shuffling beside the car and suddenly felt his shadow beside you. He squeezed his way under the car with you; his body angled sideways to get a view of the drain plug. You glanced over at his face, giving him a soft smile. He had that look of focus cresting over his features, his lips pursed, and forehead scrunched together. It was cute seeing him take this so seriously.

“Alright, alright,” he exhaled. “The oil s’gonna come out fast, so be ready for it. Try movin’ your body my way so you don’t get it all over ya’.”

“You make this sound so dirty,” you laughed.

“It is dirty,” he said pointedly. “Get that pretty lil’ mind outta the gutter.”

“Or what?” you questioned, shuffling your body against the creep. You leaned into his broad frame, feeling his chest press against your back.

“Focus,” he growled. Despite his irritation, you could feel him harden against you.

“Okay, okay,” you relented.

Reaching up, you used the wrench to loosen the screw, utterly oblivious to the chaos that was about to transpire. The screw shot out onto the metal pan with a thud, followed by a heavy stream of oil splashing against the empty pan. Thick, black oil splattered onto your cheek and neck, the warmth of it staining your skin. You yelped at the contact, rolling off the creeper and falling into Joel’s open arms. His chest shook with laughter as he hauled you further from the oil, still steadily draining out.

“I warned ya’,” he said. “It’s messy.”

“You didn’t tell me I’d get hit with the oil!” you yelled, jabbing him with your elbow, which only sent him into another fit of laughter. “It’s not funny!”

“S’kinda funny,” he chuckled. “I’ll get you all cleaned up after, don’t worry.”

“You fucking better,” you grumbled.

You watched the oil finally finish draining, a slow drip falling into the filled pan. Joel shimmied out from under the car, whispering in your ear to stay put. He came back a moment later, reaching down to hand you some sort of metal canister. Turning it in your hand, you read the label and saw OIL FILTER plastered on the side.

“Now we gotta change the oil filter,” Joel explained. “First, y’gotta get the old one out, then we can replace it.”

“Why don’t you do the rest? I’m already messy enough.”

“Oh, so you can talk dirty, but I can’t, huh?” He teased, squeezing your calf as it stuck out under the car.

“Oh, shut up!”

Joel bent down to lay under the car with you again, tilting his head to look at the oil filter. His hand twisted the old canister until another glob of oil fell into the pan, smearing over your t-shirt. The oil leaked down his hand, covering the straps and face of his watch and coloring his tan skin.

“Jesus Christ, Joel!”

“Why don’t ya’ save that hootin’ and hollerin’ for after the oil change,” he quipped. “I’ll make sure ya’ say that again, just in a different way.”

You glanced at him, welcomed by an overdramatic wink on his handsome face. He nudged you with your elbow, turning your focus back to the oil change. Guiding your hand up to the empty space, he helped you install the new filter, both of your hands working in tandem as you twisted it back into place.

“There ya’ go, babydoll. Good job.”

“Joel,” you warned. “If you keep talking in my ear like that, I’m going to smack the shit outta you.”

“I reckon you’d rather fuck me,” he whispered in your ear.

Joel shuffled out from under the car, leaving the space vacant around you. You managed to get your body back onto the surface of the creeper, propping your knees up to help propel you forward and out, but as you did, an oil-slicked hand grabbed your ankle. You yelped at the contact, your body lurching from under the car and back into the sun-drenched garage. Joel stood over you with a coy grin and a stiffness in his jeans you were all too familiar with.

You cocked an eyebrow at him, an unspoken warning to him about what he was thinking. You were covered in oil and felt absolutely disgusting… he was not touching you.

“Don’t you even think about it,” you warned, sitting up on the creeper. It rolled back against the car, hitting the side door with a soft thud.

Joel stalked forward, crouching to meet you at eye level. He had those stupid fucking puppy dog eyes, and his bottom lip was pushed out and extra pouty. He was undeniably cute, but you wouldn’t cave.

“We got ten minutes to kill ‘til we can recheck the levels,” he insisted.

“Ten minutes? You won’t even last two, cowboy.”

That did him in.

Pulling the edge of the creeper forward, Joel came down to eye level, a flash of intensity cresting over his brown eyes. His hand brushed over your neck, tugging at your ponytail.

“Says you, babydoll. I’ll have you coverin’ the floor in your juices in less than a minute,” he argued.

Your mouth fell open, both shocked and a bit turned on. He wasn’t wrong, but you were determined to prove him wrong. Arching your body forward, your hands gripped the collar of his flannel, hauling him into a long kiss. His tongue brushed over your bottom lip, making you moan helplessly. Damn this man and his ability to make you submissive and pliable.

“Do you think you’re that good?” you taunted, working your mouth down to nip at the patchy beard covering his jaw.

Joel’s hand untangled from your hair and moved to your neck, squeezing your throat gently—a warning. He held you steady as he met your eyes with a fierce look, his eyes nearly black.

“Do you need a reminder, darlin’? ‘Cause I ain’t afraid to teach you a lesson.”

“You’re already teaching me a lesson,” you reminded him, with a touch of sassiness in your voice. “A lesson in changing oil.”

“Keep it up, babydoll. Y’know I love it when you’re a brat. Means I get to fuck it right out of ya’.”

“And I give you full permission to fuck me later. Right now, oil change,” you emphasized.

He huffed a loud groan, rolling his eyes and straightening to his full height. Offering a hand, Joel helped you stand back up, pecking you on the cheek before leading you back to the open hood of the car.

“When the oil’s settled, we’ll check the dipstick again to make sure the filters workin’,” he explained.

“Sounds easy enough. And that’s it?” You asked.

“Yup. All good after that, babydoll. We just gotta kill them ten minutes.” He gave you a side eye, insinuating what you both could be doing.

“I’m sure you can make yourself busy,” you smiled, blissfully aware of how much you were killing him.

“Rather be busy makin’ you scream my name,” he grumbled, inspecting your car's engine.

“Aw, is my man pouting?” You teased, rounding the edge of the hood to hug him from behind. You pressed your cheek against his shoulder blade, working your grease-covered hands over the buttons of his flannel. Your fingers danced over each one, toying with them just to elicit his response.

“You’re killing me, babydoll,” Joel groaned.

“Am I?” You asked innocently. Your hands trailed down his stomach, inching closer to his belt.

Joel’s hand shot forward, his thick fingers wrapping around your wrist. You gasped as they tightened around your skin, his arm twisting until he maneuvered you around to stand in front of him. Your ass hit the edge of the bumper at the exact moment his hands came up to pull your face to his. His lips crashed onto yours, his tongue seeking yours as he forced your mouth open wider. A desperate whimper escaped your mouth, only making his movements more intense and all-consuming. Your teeth dug into the plush skin of his bottom lip, tugging gently as he broke away.

“I’m beggin’ you, babydoll. Please let me fill that pretty pussy, I’m about to lose my damn mind.”

You smirked, folding your arms over your chest. His eyes were saucers; his pupils lost amidst the brown in his irises. Despite the afternoon sun still flecking across the corners of the garage, shadows danced over his features, emphasizing the hungry look he was giving you. You knew it would be easy to cave into his needs—you wanted to—but maybe, just maybe, you’d enjoy seeing him work for it.

“You wanna beg for it, cowboy?” You asked. “Let me see it.”

Joel’s mouth parted, words failing him as he studied your posture and dominant voice. You lifted your chin, trying to level him with a heavy stare even with the inches of height he had over you.

“Well?” You questioned.

“Whatcha want, darlin’? Y’wanna see me on my knees?” He suggested, shifting slightly.

Your eyes flicked down to the bulge in his jeans, watching it strain against the zipper the longer you stared. Your tongue darted out, rolling over your bottom lip before you bit into it. Joel let out an impatient groan before sinking to his knees before you. Now, the eye contact shifted, your height imposing over his. Seeing his eyes strain upwards to look at you gave you a new sense of control. You liked it.

“Is this what ya’ wanted?” His voice dropped an octave.

“I don’t hear any begging,” you shrugged.

Joel clasped his hands together, holding them in front of his chest, as he met your eyes with a pleading stare. His kiss-swollen lips pushed out into a pout, and his voice was agonizingly desperate as he spoke.

“Please, babydoll,” he begged. “I’m dyin’ to see you ruin the floors of this damn garage. Fuckin’ desperate to make you cum all over my cock, please.”

“I like you begging,” you mused. “You’re so handsome on your knees.”

Joel groaned, letting his head fall against your thighs. Running his hands up your jeans, his fingers worked towards your zipper, which you quickly swatted away. Carding your hand through the sweaty curls atop his head, you yanked them back to force his eyes on you again.

“Do you want to see me cum?” You questioned.

Joel nodded pathetically, his thick neck straining the longer he looked up at you. You noted the outline of his veins under his sun-kissed skin and how his throat bobbed with each word you spoke.

“Fuck, babydoll. Yes. Please, I want it s’bad,” he pleaded.

“Then be a good boy and watch,” you commanded.

Arousal flooded through your veins as you unzipped your jeans, shimming them down your hips and thighs before discarding them somewhere amidst the mess of the workspace. Standing before him in only a tiny lace thong, you watched as Joel wordlessly tracked your movements, his eyes zeroed in on the apparent slickness between your thighs. You had done such a good job of restraining yourself earlier to saying no, but how could you deny a man on his knees?

“No touching,” you ordered. “You’re only allowed to watch.”

Hooking your thumbs under the band of your underwear, you let them slowly fall to the ground, your legs stepping out of them as you adjusted yourself against the bumper of the car. Pressing your ass against the cold metal frame, you lifted one leg to rest on top of the bumper; your foot pressed down as you shifted your weight to support your body. Joel obediently watched, his hands resting on his thighs as ordered.

You moved your hand down your abdomen, your fingers drifting lower as you teased your wet folds. Joel watched with rapt attention, his eyes never leaving the sight of your hand. You made small circles over your clit, the brush of your fingers against it electrifying your nerves. Unrefined pleasure coursed through you as your movements intensified, your hips rolling against your hand as you chased your orgasm. Joel let out a strangled groan, and your eyes snapped to him, only to catch his hand palming over his cock beneath his jeans.

“No,” you said firmly. “You can’t touch yourself yet.”

“Babydoll,” he whined. “S’fuckin’ killin’ me.”

You leveled him with a heavy stare, pushing two fingers inside your aching cunt with a cry of pleasure falling off your lips. You wanted to see him work for it and see how long he’d last without snapping. With two fingers curling deep inside you, you brought your other hand into the mix, drawing those same lazy circles over your clit until you felt that white-hot pressure building inside your core. Joel still hadn’t moved an inch; every muscle in his body tensed as he watched helplessly. You curled your fingers harder, pulling more soft sounds from your mouth as you teetered on the edge of release.

“Joel,” you panted. “I—I need your fucking mouth.”

There was no hesitation.

He crawled to you, replacing the fingers on your clit with his mouth, his tongue stroking the aching bud with fervor. Each flick and drag of his tongue was another shockwave through your nerves, pushing you closer and closer until you were crying out into the space around you. With one large hand gripping the back of your thigh, Joel pressed his tongue harder against your clit until you were crashing over the edge. You came with his name falling off of your tongue, your wet arousal dripping down the bridge of his nose as he pushed his face further into you. Joel wrapped his fingers around your wrist, pulling your fingers from your wet entrance, and sucked them into his mouth. Your eyes connected as he stared up at you, his tongue gliding up each finger as if he were a starved man.

Fuck control, and fuck the oil change; you needed him. Now.

“Take me, cowboy,” you pleaded. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

“Y’gonna regret sayin’ that,” he warned, hauling himself to his feet.

Joel’s arms wrapped around the back of your knees, throwing you over his shoulder. You yelped at the sudden movement, your hands bracing against his lower back. The garage became a blur as he moved past the cars and mess of tools on the ground. Maneuvering you onto the workbench, Joel guided you back until you were flush with the wooden bench, his body hovering over you. His hands moved swiftly on his belt buckle, letting his cock spring free as he hauled your legs over his shoulders.

“Don’t get grease all over me,” you said. “Keep your filthy hands to yourself, cowboy.”

“Oh, don’t worry, m’gonna make a fuckin’ mess of you,” Joel smirked and lined his cock up with your entrance.

He drove into you with such force your body shifted upwards on the bench, your skin digging into the wood as you tried to adjust to his size. No matter how many times Joel fucked you, you were always breathless when he filled you with every inch of his cock. He had you bent in half in this position, his hands braced behind you on the bench, and your legs folded over his shoulders. The strength behind each thrust was brutal, and you cried out with each snap of his hips against yours.

“Did ya’ enjoy teasin’ me, babydoll?” He grunted. “You like seein’ me on my knees beggin’ for this pussy?”

“Yes!” You wailed, tears forming in your eyes.

“Gonna make you fuckin’ beg for my cum, darlin’. Let’s fuckin’ hear it. Scream for me.”

Joel fucked you with abandon until you were a crying mess. Your hands wound around his neck, nails digging into his skin just for stability. The flutter of your cunt around him sucks him in further, plunging his cock at a deeper angle that brings you right to the precipice of release. He knows it, too. If you thought his pace was brutal before—this was violent. He was claiming you in every single buck of his hips, and you steal a glance upwards to see his face twisted up in determination.

Your voice was becoming hoarse from screaming his name; the void of the garage filled with the sounds of your cries and the disgusting slap of his hips against your slick cunt. Every muscle in your legs tensed and shook as you tried to quell the desperate need for release. You couldn’t hold it much longer; his cock was rubbing against that perfect spot inside you.

“I can feel that pussy clenchin’ my cock, babydoll,” Joel whispered, lowering his mouth to your ear. “Don’t fuckin’ cum yet. Not ‘til I tell you.”

“Joel, I—I can’t wait,” you sobbed. “Please, I need it.”

“Be a good girl for me,” he growled. “You can do it.”

Your chest heaved with another sob, the tears overflowing as your cunt clenched harder. You were using every ouch of your energy to hold your orgasm at bay, to force your body to wait until he gave you that release. His greased fingers found your overly sensitive clit, pressing right against the bud and alighting the nerves inside you. Your back arched off the bench as you stifled another scream of pleasure.

“Look at you,” he taunted. “So fuckin’ desperate now, huh? Teased me all day, and now y’wanna cum so bad? Alright, babydoll, cum for me.”

The world fizzled out as your orgasm wracked through your body, lurching you upwards into his arms as you clung to him with shaking limbs. A stream of liquid poured from your pulsating cunt, a ripple of pleasure folding over your nerves and tumbling you into oblivion. Joel’s body tensed under you as he filled you with his release, hot ropes painting the inside of your cunt. Another wave of arousal tore through you, drenching the bench beneath you and dripping onto the floor. Even amidst the haze of your orgasm, you could hear Joel chuckling softly.

“Told you I’d have ya’ drenchin’ the ground.”

“Shut. Up.” You panted.

“Mhmm,” he hummed, kissing your tear-soaked cheek.

Joel removed himself from you, easing your sore legs off his shoulders and placing your feet on the floor. Your vision was still blurred as you stared at his face, his lips twitching with a smug grin and a trail of sweat rolling down his temples.

“I reckon that oil’s ready to check now, darlin’,” he said, offering you a hand.

You took it, winding your fingers through his. With a squeeze of his fingers, you walked over to the car, trying—and failing—to hide the limp in your steps. You couldn’t focus on anything other than the feeling of his cum leaking out of you and down your thighs, but you watched silently as he pulled out the dipstick and presented it to you.

“Good job, darlin’,” he smiled. “Now ya’ know how to change the oil. Whatcha wanna learn next?”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing your underwear from the floor and slipping them over your hips.

“Maybe I can teach you how to slow down your damn sex drive, cowboy. You’re gonna fucking break me in half one day,” you grumbled.

“Don’t think you’d mind it much, babydoll.”

Joel tugged you close, tipping your chin up to meet his lips with a tender kiss. You were pliant in his hands, molding yourself to each hard muscle of his body. Running your hands up his biceps, you gripped his shoulders and slipped your tongue over his. He palmed your ass, pressing your body tighter against his chest.

“You’re a terrible teacher, you know that?” You mumbled against his mouth.

“But ya’ love me,” he tossed back, his teeth sinking into your bottom lip.

“Yeah, I do,” you sighed happily.

“And I love you, babydoll.”

#joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller pre outbreak #one shot #mechanic!joel #joel tlou #ethereal fic recs #ethereal fic reviews #etherealficrecs

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theetherealbloom · 2 years ago

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REEEEAAAAD THIS :D

Messy Annotations - Chapter 1

(GIFs not mine)

Read chapter 2 here

Summary: You meet Javi at your local library and notice he's reading your favorite book. You two hit it off and spend your day together, just talking and getting to know each other before you spend the night at his house on accident.

Character: Javi Gutierrez (TUWOMT)

Content Warnings: very ooc!javi, shy!javi, sunshine!reader, reader has wavy hair, reader lives in spain, very fluffy, reader's love language is touch, implied slight age gap (reader is in their 30s), can be read platonically or romantically, a LOT of blushing (a little too much), reader goes to college later in life, HUGE bookworm!reader, no use of y/n. Let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 3.2K

A/N: Thank you for your notes and compliments on Dance With Me; it means a lot! Also, just send an ask/comment and tell me if you'd like a part 2 to this, I had a lot of fun writing it, and I have a few ideas already for a part 2. If you have any other ideas for fanfics, my asks are open for requests! I hope you all enjoy this; it took me forever to get done, and I had an insanely hard time coming up with how I wanted this fic to turn out. The struggle was totally worth it though; this is probably one of my favorite fics I've written!

All of my posts with an * in the title contain smut, or mentions of it. Minors DNI.

(Divider by saradika)

Living in Spain has been one of your biggest dreams, and you finally moved here for college abroad to work on your infuriating art major, even though you feel like you’re a little old for college now that you’re in your 30s. You’re an underground artist, and you’re just itching to get your work out there to be noticed by the public. You’re an absolute ball of sunshine, and to be fair, you’re the most energetic and outgoing person you know, but, you don’t really know too many people in Spain yet, but that’s beside the point. You really are energetic, though— almost too much. There is one thing that you’re always excited about though, no matter what— reading. Finding new books to binge-read in one sitting is always one of your favorite activities when you have free time. The library cashier is extremely tired of you coming in every week.

Javi Gutierrez, on the other hand, is the polar opposite of you. He’s a shy, new up-and-coming actor who doesn’t know what he wants to do with his life after the success of his first movie. Though fame is finding him well, much more than anticipated, he doesn’t particularly want to make another movie quite yet, now that his co-star, Nic Cage, has left Spain. Even with his newfound fame, he still enjoys going out and doing activities he enjoys, which mainly include going to the local library. He prefers reading in a library than in his own house, alone. He likes the atmosphere the library gives him, but most of all, he loves tucking himself away strategically in the corner of the library window, so he can look out and see the bustling streets of people living their everyday lives.

On a Friday afternoon, you have some free time to yourself, and you, of course, decide to head to your local library. You never go on Fridays— your typical day off is Sunday, but today was different; today was a professor work day at your college, so you had no classes or any assignments to complete, meaning you could spend your whole day reading. You walk into the library happily, as always. The smell of the ink bled into the pages of hundreds of books filled your lungs— a scent you thoroughly enjoyed. You finally pick out a new book that you’ve been eyeing, having heard good things about it online and from the people in your college.

Even though you got what you came for, you couldn’t walk into a library and buy just one book— no, you had to buy at least 5 every time you came in. After picking out your books, you waltz to the cashier, who already appeared annoyed at you being there. A strict, slightly older woman— always had an attitude, but that didn’t let you stop being your energetic, bubbly self to her. “You know, you still need to return the other 10 books, right?” she says, sternness filling her tone.

“Yeah, yeah! I know; I’ll bring them all back next time I come!” you say, smiling widely, setting the books down on the counter. The woman simply rolls her eyes at your response, knowing you’d be back in a few days and she’d have to deal with you again. After she scans the books, the woman tells you, “Your total is going to be €15.75.” €15.75… you think. You only brought €15— you sigh in response; the woman before you, never having heard that sound come out of you, and looked at you like you had 3 heads planted firmly upon your shoulders. You searched your pockets and purse but had no change.

“It’s just 75 cents. Can’t you let it pass this once?” You plead but to no avail. The woman shakes her head harshly, muttering something about ‘library rules,’ but you were too disappointed by her head shake to take care of what she said. You sigh once more— looking around the library; surely somebody would be willing to give you a dollar, right? Right?

You feel increasingly upset the longer you look through the library aisles for someone to ask until your eyes finally land on a gentleman wearing a mustard-colored shirt full of wrinkles. He was sitting in a corner, away from everything, with his legs planted on a footrest and his face hiding behind a book. You hold your finger up to the cashier, signaling for her to wait as she sighs in response. You walk up to the man, “Hey! I hate to ask you this, but I was just checking out, and I’m 75 cents short. Do you mind? It’s okay if not—” you say quickly, trying not to seem too over the top.

The man lowers his book, and a shy pink rose upon his cheeks while nodding slowly. “Um yeah, sure,” he whispers, almost inaudible, as he shifts himself in his seat and reaches into his jeans pocket for some change. He pulls a €5 bill from his pockets and raises his hand for you to take it before settling back into his seat.

You take the bill from between his fingers, grinning brightly— “Thank you so much! You’re a lifesaver,” you say, full of enthusiasm. A soft smile washes over the man’s face before nodding, his cheeks still showing a light rose color. You turn on your heel and rush back to the cashier, proudly waving your money in the air. After checking out, the cashier hands you your change, and you grab your books. Before you leave, you turn back and walk toward the man again. He seemed to have heard you coming and had lowered his book just enough to see you already standing there. “Hey again, thank you for lending me some money. Here’s the change!” you say, holding the money out to him, close enough for him to reach it. The man lowers his book into his lap, smiling softly, takes the money from your grasp, and messily pushes the money back into his jeans.

You finally catch a glimpse of the man's entire face, his curly brown hair complimenting his tanned skin and the patchy stubble on his face. You grow curious and look into the man’s lap to see what book he’s reading— and to your surprise, it’s your favorite book ever. “Oh my God,” you exclaim, a little too loud for a library, startling the man slightly and causing him to look at you. After adjusting your tone accordingly, you continue— “that’s my favorite book!”

His face lights up brightly, “Really? That’s awesome,” he enthuses, yelling in a whisper. Just for a moment, he’s brought out of his shy state. He adjusts his position again, sitting forward in his seat and removing his feet from the footrest. “I’ve loved this book since it came out,” he continues, “I’ve never met anyone else who likes it.”

“Yeah, all the books from this author are really good! I especially love this one, though,” you finish, smiling as you sit on the footrest in front of the man, hugging your new books to your chest. The man, shy once more, becomes flustered until “Hey, I was thinking of going to the coffee shop down the street. Do you wanna come with?” you say, tilting your head to the side.

The man’s eyes widened, with even more heat rising into his cheeks— another thing they had in common; coffee. “Yeah, of course,” he enthuses, breaking eye contact just enough to stand up out of his seat while grabbing his bag and placing his book inside of it, “I love that place!” he finishes as he puts the bag messily around his shoulder, looking back at you. He looks down at the books you’re holding in your arms, and as you stand up, he asks, “Do you wanna put your books in my bag? So you don’t have to hold them—” he says softly.

“Yeah, sure! Just don’t steal them for yourself,” you joke, making yourself chuckle before handing him your books. The man blushes at your words, taking the books from your hands and placing them all inside his bag. The two of you walk out of the library, and you wave to the cashier as you leave; she, of course, didn’t wave back. As the two of you walk towards the coffee shop, you get lost in conversation about your favorite books. The walk was the same distance it always was, but with the man walking with you, it felt a lot shorter than usual.

Just as you reach the shop, you stop suddenly. You hadn’t asked the man his name, nor had he asked you. “I forgot to ask, what’s your name?” you say, turning to him, smiling nervously.

“Javi,” he says, his rich, deep voice rings through your ears. A soft laugh escapes your mouth, full of nervousness as you tell the man your name, him joining your chuckles soon after. The two of you sit at one of the tables placed by a window.

The two of you gush over your newfound subjects in common— a not-so-known favorite author and coffee. What could be better? The two of you spend well over an hour hogging up the coffee table, just getting to know each other, until a worker comes and tells you that you have to leave if you aren’t going to buy anything else. The two of you are already so strung out on coffee you both know either of you doesn’t need any more in your system. “Hey, do you wanna come over to my house for a little bit?” Javi asks, “You don’t have to, obviously; I know we just met and—”

You spring your head up at his words; you’ve been having a lot of fun talking to Javi so far; what could it hurt? “Of course!” you interrupt his concerned rambling. He simply smiles in return, picking up the bag under his seat as he stands up. The two of you walk to the door of the coffee shop, “I walked here from my house, so it’s a bit of a walk—” he says, as he opens the door for you to walk out, “I hope that’s okay,” he finishes as he walks out behind you, closing the door.

“Yeah, that’s alright!” you say excitedly as the two of you start walking toward’s Javi’s house. Obviously, you don’t go to random people’s houses like this, but Javi felt— different. He felt trustworthy, considerate, and loving. You’re brought out of your thoughts while on the way there as you spot a flower field to the left of you. You stop walking to look at the view for a moment, Javi noticing almost immediately. He turns back to face you, a slight smile planted on your face. You’ve never been to this area of Spain before, and already, it’s so much more beautiful than where you currently dwell.

Javi looks for a moment at your wavy hair, lightly being blown in the sunset’s wind, the sun glowing brightly in the backdrop of you, lighting illuminating your features. As he realizes he’s been staring, he clears his throat and fixes his shirt before stepping toward you. Just as he reaches your side, you look at him. “It’s beautiful,” you declare, still looking at the field. Javi looks at you and nods, “Yeah, it is.” before turning his head to look where your eyes were fixated. Suddenly, you interlink your arm with his, tugging at him to follow you into the field. “Come on, let’s pick some flowers,” you say, excitement filling your body, with a slight red washing across your face as you unlink your arm, running your hand down to hold his, as you turn around to face him while walking backward as laughter fills the air. Javi blushes at the sight of you for what seems like the millionth time today— as you two reach relatively far from the path you were previously walking, you let go of Javi’s hand, your body missing his touch.

You bend down near a patch of red carnations, picking a flower and lifting it to your nose, smelling the sweet yet subtle clove-like scent and letting it fill your body, making you feel warm inside. You stand back up and turn around to see Javi standing behind you, hands in his pockets with the corners of his lips upturned softly, causing gentle wrinkles to form around his dark-colored eyes. You walk up to him and place the flower behind his ear, letting his soft curls hug around the stem to hold it in place— light pink creeps up his neck and onto his cheeks once more.

You giggle at his face, full of awe— you break your gaze from his kind face enough to look up into the sky, causing Javi to do the same. You notice it’s getting late, and just as you’re about to say you should get going to Javi’s house, he speaks, “It’s getting late; we should hurry before it gets too dark,” his deep voice with his rich accent echoing through your ears as if honey had a sound— making your cheeks flush.

You simply nod in agreement while holding your hand out for him to take it. He has to look back between your hand and your face a few times before finally taking it in his own, making a few soft chuckles escape your mouth, causing him to do so too. After about 20 minutes of walking, the bright orange rays shining behind you slowly disappear until finally reaching it’s end, and the lightness of the moon begins peeking out from the horizon. The two of you reach Javi’s home, and God— was it beautiful. You wouldn’t admit it, but you felt slightly jealous while walking into his pristine villa home when you’re reminded of your small college dorm.

“Do you want a drink or anything?” he asks, breaking the non-awkward silence the two of you had throughout your walk.

“Sure! Water’s fine,” you reply happily, looking at all of the knick-knacks Javi had littered throughout his home. Javi returns with your water in hand, nearly running to get back to you.

After handing it to you, he speaks up, “Do you wanna go sit on the couch— or?” he says, his voice laced with a sort of sweetness that makes your body tingle. You nod in response, taking a sip from your water. Javi guides you to his living room; the large room before you opens up as he turns on moody, orange lights that remind you of the sunset you saw a mere hour ago. It feels homey— welcoming, and warm. Something you don’t experience at your own college house. Javi walks over to the couch, covered in soft blankets and a few pillows, and kicks his feet up on the coffee table. You follow closely behind, sitting close to him, your knees almost brushing against each other as you sink into your seat.

Javi hums as if he’s forgotten something essential and stands up without saying anything. He disappears into the other room, leaving you there. After a few moments, he returns— an old worn book in his hands. “This is one of my favorite books,” he says, sitting back down next to you, “I want you to read it,” he finishes softly, looking at you while motioning for you to take it. You oblige— surprisingly, it’s a book you’ve never read, so of course, you’d be willing. You open the book to the first page, glancing at it, then turning over a few pages before running your fingers through each and every page, noticing messily written notes and scribbles written out into the worn margins. You absolutely adore annotated books, and it’s one of your favorite pastimes, besides actually reading the book in the first place.

You let a few chuckles escape your mouth as you look up to see Javi’s relieved expression grow on his face after your silence. You reach over to hug him quickly, causing him to laugh too, his hand resting on your upper back. You pull away, returning your attention to the book, positioning yourself cross-legged before him, sinking into your seat even more. “Can I read it now?” you ask, smiling, still not looking at him but skimming the first page's notes.

“Of course,” he says simply, smiling. You start reading immediately— resting your head on the side of the couch. You point out a few rather silly remarks he’s written down on the first page, causing you both to giggle. You spend well over an hour just reading the pages of the book, occasionally engaging in a conversation about what you’re reading, Javi being just as fascinated with it as you are, if not more which makes you chuckle. After a while, a “Can I lay my head on your lap?” escapes your mouth, looking at Javi for consent. He nods as his face heats up, and you lay down, the book above your face, as you two still talk about the notes he’s made and the careless actions the main character makes in the book.

About halfway through the book, you hear Javi’s stomach grumble something mean, causing you to laugh. “You hungry?” you ask sarcastically, looking at him, letting a few more chuckles escape your mouth. You receive a nod as he joins in on your laughter, a slight tint of embarrassment hidden within as he hides his face behind his hands. You lift your head off his lap, setting the book down on the couch, not leaving the page you left off on. “You should eat,” you say softly.

“Yeah,” he pauses, thinking. “Do you want some cake? That’s what I’m going to have,” he finishes, looking over at you, eyes glistening in the light’s warm tones that fill the room.

You smile, “That sound’s perfect!” you say, nodding. He stands up, whispering a quiet ‘okay’ sound before disappearing into the other room once more before returning a few minutes later with two plates, each with red velvet cake and a napkin on each. You let out a small squeak at the sight, making your mouth water slightly at the richly flavored cake. As you two are eating, Javi finishes rather quickly, and you notice frosting on his face he doesn’t seem to notice. You pick up your napkin to wipe it off, his cheeks turning visibly red, as does yours, the both of you gigging.

Once you finish your cake, you set both plates down on the coffee table, along with the book, and lay your head back down on his lap. “Wanna watch some TV?” you ask, looking up at his face and into his eyes as he meets yours.

“Sure thing,” he says, nodding while looking down at your face before reaching for the remote to turn on the TV. After an hour of watching the show, you fall asleep, head still resting in his lap. He notices shortly after when he hears the soft snores that escape your mouth, which is slightly agape. He smiles at the sight, lowering his hand down to brush some of the hair out of your face. He feels your cold skin and grabs the blanket from behind you that was messily thrown over the couch’s back, and lays it over your body, causing you to stir slightly in your sleep. He lowers the volume of the TV so as to not wake you up.

Shortly after, he looks down at your sleeping state, whispering a light "Goodnight, hermosa (beautiful)," before he leans back onto the couch deeper, sighing contently, before falling asleep for the night, with you in a deep sleep on his lap.

#etherealficrecs #etherealupdates #javier gutierrez #javier gutierrez x reader #pedro pascal characters

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theetherealbloom · 2 years ago

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NO WORDS 😶 NONE LITERALLY IT WAS JUST TOO DAMN GOOD WHAT IM GOING TO HELL THATS FINE.

WHY?? AM I?? GRINNING SO MUCH?? RIGHT NOW?? (LORD PLS WHEN CAN I HAVE MY TURN 😭)

lunch date

pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader

summary: matt invites you to his office for a lunch date, but it doesn't go as expected.

warnings: swearing, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

a/n: inspired by my primal desire to fuck matty in his office. that's it.

word count: 1k

When Matt invited you to his office for a lunch date, he really did just intend to have lunch with you. Between the influx of cases at Nelson and Murdock, a series of leads that he had been tracking at night, and your own busy schedule lately, Matt hadn’t been able to plan a date for almost two weeks.

But then you walked through the door wearing his favorite sundress, and your skin felt like silk beneath his fingertips as he pulled you in for a hug, and the sweet vanilla of your body lotion mixed with the zesty orange of your shampoo lingering in your hair reminded him that it had been five days since he last touched you.

And somewhere between the front door to Nelson and Murdock and the threshold of Matt’s office door, the idea of lunch was abandoned altogether as your synchronized heavy pants filled the space while you rocked your hips on his lap.

Matt tightened his arm around your waist as you whimpered softly, bunching your dress further above your hips so that he could grip tightly onto your soft flesh. Your fingers lightly tugged at the hair at the base of his neck, while your other hand clawed ephemeral red lines along his bare chest to join the ivory scars embedded in his skin. His dress shirt hung messily off his shoulders, and you used the opportunity to nip and suck at his collarbones before trailing your lips up his neck.

A low groan echoed in his chest when the warmth of your tongue soothed the graze of your teeth, and he dug his fingers deeper into your soft hips to steady himself. His office chair creaked as you moved your hips swiftly, and as much as Matt wanted to bend you over his desk and fuck you over it, Karen and Foggy were rounding the corner on the street, and he needed to be quick.

“Shit…just…a little more, sweetheart.”

He pressed his thumb directly onto your sensitive clit, and a loud prayer of his name slipped past your kiss bitten lips. The gentle sound of your skin colliding filled Matt’s ears when you started to bounce on his cock, gripping onto his strong shoulders and digging your nails deep into the muscle. Matt flexed his hips upwards to meet your thrusts, gripping onto the back of your head as he moaned your name desperately into your ear.

“Just like that, angel. Just like-fuck, please. Please…need to feel you. Let me feel you, baby.”

Matt clenched his eyes shut and buried his face into your neck as a howl of your name clawed its way out of his chest. The second your warm walls tightened around his cock and flooded with your release, Matt emptied himself in your haven, and his thighs spasmed with aftershocks as you convulsed delicately on his lap with the softest pleas of his name escaping your mouth.

The mixture of your desire leaked down the base of his cock, and he could feel it starting to seep into his pants. He’d have to get them dry cleaned, considering he hadn’t even bothered to push them down his thighs, just enough to free himself so he could disappear inside of you. But that thought was swept to the back of his mind as he gave your thigh a tight squeeze and attempted to catch his breath.

“Fuck, um…Foggy and…Karen-”

“You said they were gone?”

“They’re in the elevator.”

“Matthew!”

Even as you chided him, all Matt could do was grin in his blissed out state. A conjoined hiss left you both when you suddenly stood; yours from the sudden emptiness and Matt’s from the loss of your soft warmth. Grabbing a tissue from his desk, you tossed him the box so that you could quickly clean yourselves up. Matt clamped down on his bottom lip as he stuffed his sensitive cock back into his briefs, and pulled the leather back through his belt loop just as Foggy and Karen entered the door.

You quickly reached over to smooth his hair back into place, and Matt slipped his crimson glasses over his eyes to hide the evidence of his gratification. Foggy’s chipper voice boomed through the office as he made his way into Matt’s office.

“Y/N/N!”

“Hi Foggy.”

Matt grinned hearing the happiness in your voice. He loved that you loved his friends as much as he did, and as much as they loved you.

He loved you.

“Didn’t you guys have a lunch date?”

Karen’s inquisitive tone had Matt’s grin faltering, and his tongue darted out to wet his lips as he racked his brain for a quick excuse. But luckily for him, you were already a step ahead.

“We’re still trying to figure out where to go, kinda got sidetracked. Matt was telling me about the new client.”

A proud smile stretched across his mouth as he reached over to place his hand over yours, giving it a gentle squeeze as he gave you a knowing look with a tilt of his head and an arch of his brow.

“Oh! You guys should check out that new pizza place Brett was talking about. And bring us some back. Not that we don’t trust your judgment or anything, but your boyfriend owes me lunch.”

“For what?”

Matt suddenly turned his head in his best friend’s direction, his brows pulling in towards the center of his forehead in skepticism.

“Because you love me, buddy.”

Matt rolled his eyes behind his glasses, chuckling to himself as you giggled and brushed your thumb lightly over his worn knuckles.

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t forget.”

“See? This is why you’re my favorite.”

Once Matt felt like he could stand without his legs giving out, he slowly rose up from his chair and reached for his folded cane. As he turned to you, Karen’s voice suddenly cut through the noise of Foggy’s descending foot steps.

“Hey Matt?”

“Yeah?”

“Weren’t you wearing a tie earlier?”

Matt abruptly stilled.

Fuck. He’d forgotten about his tie.

tags: @yarrystyleeza @little-miss-dilf-lover @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042

#etherealficrecs #etherealupdates #ethereal writes #etherealficreviews #ethereal

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theetherealbloom · 6 months ago

Text

ARIZONA 😭😭😭

THE WAY I WOULD HAVE 10000% CRASHED MY CAR 💥 🚗

IMMEDIATELY.

Thank you for writing this fucking fantastic piece of work. I dunno where I would be without you and this.

Learning to Live Part 33

summary: It’s the happiest day of his life—Javier is finally a married man, and he can't keep his hands off his new wife.

rating: E (18+!! No y/n, alternating POV, explicit smut, age gap (about ten years), two extremely horny newlyweds, Husband Javier Peña, mutual masturbation (m & f), hand job, dirty talk (you describe to each other how you want to fuck for the first time), praise kink, breeding kink, marriage kink? (it really turns you both on that you’re husband and wife), wedding ring kink (don’t look at me), Javier being so in love and unbelievably happy, banter, special appearances by their bovine children (it’s so cute), Chucho interrupting a heavy make-out sesh, anxiety, mention of dysfunctional family, a surprise POV we’ve never seen)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader (no physical descriptions - nickname Cielito)

word count: 11.3k+

a/n: First, I’m sorry for how long this took. It’s been a very rough and busy few months, but I’m back to it! This is part one of (I’m hoping and praying) only two that will be about the wedding reception. I’m like 7k+ into the next one. Thank you for your patience and all of the comments on the last chapter. I loved reading everyone’s reactions! 🥹🥹🥹 Thank you to the love of my life, @juletheghoul, for betaing and always ensuring my Spanish makes sense!

songs mentioned in this chapter: “Amor Prohibido'' by Selena & “Tiburon” by Proyecto Uno

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

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When Steve told her Javier had a girlfriend, Connie asked him to repeat what he had said because she thought she’d misheard him. He’d told her again, a little slower, "Jav has a girlfriend."

Who knew four words could sound so foreign together?

She’d had to clarify, "Our Javi? Javier Peña? He has a girlfriend?"

Steve had looked amused. "Yes, honey. Javier Peña has a girlfriend—I'm glad I'm not the only one who can’t believe it."

"Like, a girlfriend, girlfriend, or just one of his lady friends he's seen more than once?" She’d known that in Colombia, he’d had favorites amongst the working girls he saw, not to mention Elisa.

"A girlfriend, girlfriend—he's dating whoever this woman is."

"Are you sure?” She’d had to ask. “Maybe you just misunderstood him…"

And though Connie Murphy loved her husband dearly, she sometimes needed to double-check things he said, so she'd waited for Steve to leave the room before she had called their friend herself to verify what she'd been told was true. To her utmost surprise, Javier had confirmed it—he had a girlfriend, and he was serious about dating her.

Once the shock had passed, she’d needed to know everything about this woman who’d caught his attention, and once again, she had been surprised by what her friend said and how much he wanted to share.

Javi was not a chatty guy. Sure, you could have a conversation with him, but he never gave more information than was asked or pertained to the discussion. Connie had known something was different with their friend when he had, without much prompting, started telling her at length about this girl he had met in a grocery store—it’d been clear he was completely smitten by how fondly he spoke of her, and it had made Connie grin like a fool that Javier Peña finally had his sights on settling down, something he’d more than earned after everything in South America.

When she’d gotten off the phone with him, she’d gone to Steve and ordered him, not asked, ordered him, to get the new couple to visit as soon as possible; she’d been dying to meet this person who had their friend head over heels, and her annoying husband’s response was to tell her to calm the fuck down so they didn’t spook the woman who’d only been dating their best friend for a little over a week—she hated that he’d been right, but after a month of them going steady, and things looking good, she’d gotten back on Steve’s ass about convincing them to visit.

It may be surprising, but Connie and her husband weren’t very skeptical about the new development in Javi’s life—they were well aware of what happened between him and that awful girl from his hometown he left at the altar and how wary it’d made him in terms of relationships, so they trusted his judgment, plus all he’d told them about his girlfriend was reassuring, and there weren’t any red flags, they were all bright green; this woman made him happy and seemed like a good person, that last bit was proven when they finally met her. They more than approved of the marriage, and as soon as they were given a date for the wedding, they were making plans to attend because they weren’t going to miss the happiest day of their best friend’s life for the world—and Olivia was over the moon about being the flower girl and getting a new dress.

Connie would be lying if she said she didn’t cry during their ceremony. When they all still lived in Colombia, Javier’s parents had contacted her regularly to check up on him. She’d gotten to hear firsthand how much of a romantic Chucho was from his wife, and after Antonia passed away, his love for her was just as strong, if not stronger, with the way he’d reminisce and speak of her, almost as if she wasn’t gone. Even though it made sense that Javi inherited his father's romanticism, it was downright mind-boggling to hear him say such beautiful and touching things that could've come straight from a sappy chick-flick; it also had to be the most she’d ever heard him speak in one go.

It was sweet to see Javier so in love, and she was happy he was marrying someone who felt just as strongly about him—he definitely deserved this happiness he had found, and it was about damn time he got himself a family. The man was destined to be a dad; he was terrific with her kids, so good, in fact, it made Steve realize he needed to step up as a father. She’d always be thankful to Javi for that. Before her husband got more involved, it was Connie doing just about everything for Olivia, and it was exhausting and honestly put her off wanting any more children, but once Steve changed his act and started pulling his weight, she was ready for their family to grow.

The Murphys were excited to see Javier doing so well and marrying such a wonderful woman.

They were out on Chucho’s land at a hill with a giant oak tree sitting atop it, surrounded by grassy fields and the Rio Grande river in the distance, you could see if you stood under the tree. The sun had set, and the couple was officially married; Javi’s dad had them sign their marriage license, along with Steve and the bride’s best friend, putting their names down as witnesses, the newlyweds taking off back to the house for the big party that’d be happening with the new wife climbing into the driver’s seat of her new husband’s truck.

Steve and Connie had just packed their kids into the SUV they rented and were getting into their seats up front. Her husband turned the key in the ignition to start it. His seatbelt clicked into place right after hers, and he looked over at her with his hand on the wheel and a smirk on his face—he was about to say something that’d get a reaction from her.

Her eyebrow rose. “What is it?” she asked.

He adjusted in his seat, glancing back at the children, then meeting her eyes again, and whispered for only her to hear. “Five bucks says our newly married friends find a way to ‘fold laundry’ on their way back to the house.” That was their codeword for sex, so their kids didn’t know what they were talking about.

“Steven,” she loudly gasped, and he chuckled.

“Come on, baby.” He grabbed her hand, lacing their fingers together on her dress-covered thigh. “Five bucks.”

“How would they…?” She was trying to figure out the logistics in her head on how they could possibly fuck while driving, especially with Javi’s wife driving. “Wait, are we talking them making it to home base (penetrative sex)? Or third base (touching below the waist)?”

“I’m talking that at least one of them, by any means necessary, does a home run trot (orgasms) before they get to the party.”

“Oh, that’s a losing bet.”

He pouted. “You’re no fun.”

“What, because I don’t wanna lose five bucks? They can’t make it to home base while driving, but I have no doubt one of them will finish from third—probably her, and good for her—let’s be real, Steve, we know them, and there’s no way they’re making it to that fancy as heck hotel room Javi rented to score the first run on opening day (consummate their marriage), either.”

Steve seemed to be thinking over what she said. “When I talked to him the other day, Javi was determined to do things right by her, and with how he held out until their third date, I think there is a chance they’d wait.”

“Enough of a chance you’d wanna wager on it?” She smiled sweetly at him.

“Heck no.”

“When did tío (uncle) start playing baseball?” Olivia asked.

Her dad turned his head to look at her in the back middle seat. “Oh, your tío has been playing baseball on and off since he was a teenager, sweetie. He doesn’t like to talk about it ‘cause he’s not very good at it.”

“Steve,” Connie hissed, playfully slapping his arm, and he smiled. “What your Dad means,” Connie said, turning in her seat to meet her daughter’s eyes, “is your tío is embarrassed that he plays baseball, so don’t ask him about it.”

“Why is he embarrassed?”

“Uh.” There really wasn’t a better answer. “‘Cause, like your Daddy said, your tío isn’t very good at it.”

Steve had a shit-eating grin. “So, don’t mention it to him, baby girl,” he said.

“I won’t.”

The parents faced forward, and Steve let go of her hand to put the vehicle in drive.

“I think I’m pretty good at baseball,” he whispered. “Been hitting a lot of home runs lately.” He glanced over at her and winked.

Her eyes rolled, Connie smiling. “Don’t be smug about it, Babe Ruth.”

“Do you even know what team Babe Ruth played for?”

“Um, the Yankees, maybe? Do you know?”

“I think you’re right?” he answered. “But you know I don’t like baseball and hated playing Little League as a kid.”

Nothing felt more right than the weight of the gold band on his finger, and Javier couldn't help but glance at it every once in a while to make sure it was really there and he wasn't dreaming; that was what today felt like, a dream, a dream come true, and the evidence that it'd actually happened was right there on his hand for him and everyone else to see.

After the kiss, there were congratulations and pictures taken, and as everyone started walking down the hill to the parked vehicles, Chucho stopped Javier and his wife—his wife—the older man silently handed him a pocket knife, and Javier didn't need any further instruction. He grabbed Cielito's hand and led her around the tree to where he knew his parents’ initials were carved, and added his and his new wife's nearby but used the letter 'P' for her last name and included the date beneath it.

All he wanted was to be alone with his bride, but on their way to his truck, his father stopped them again to sign the paperwork that'd make their marriage legal, the document sitting on the hood of Chucho's pickup—Cielito went first, writing in her pretty, flowy cursive her old name, then passed him the pen, Javier quickly scribbling down a messy version of his signature.

"Anything else?" he impatiently asked his dad, handing him back the ballpoint pen.

Chucho was smiling. "Nothing from you two, Mijo." He clapped Javier on the shoulder. "Get going—I just need to have the witnesses sign, and we'll see you back at the house."

"Thanks, Pop." He took Cielito's hand, hurriedly pulling her behind him.

“Thank you, Pop!” his wife giggled as she followed him. Her tone was amused when she said to Javier, “Someone’s impatient.”

He quickly glanced back at her over his shoulder. "Yeah, I am,” he said, looking forward again.

They were almost to his vehicle, and she stopped walking, which had Javier stopping, too.

He turned in place to meet her eyes, his eyebrows creasing. "What's wrong?" he asked.

She let go of his hand to hold open her palm. "Keys—you're not driving."

He frowned. "I'm fine."

"I don't care if you feel fine. You downed a few shots of whiskey, and I'm not letting you drive."

The pressure of not fucking up during the ceremony had gotten to him before it even started and caused a minor panic attack that his wife helped him get through with a flask of whiskey—it was true he downed two or three shots and was a little buzzed; however, he was nowhere near drunk, and definitely not close to having a blood alcohol level that’d get him in trouble with the law if he drove.

But since his wife didn’t want him to drive, he wouldn’t because he’d do anything she said.

He sighed, getting his keyring out of his tuxedo pants pocket and dropping it into her waiting hand.

“Please, watch out for holes,” he said, “and don’t drive too fast.”

She stepped close to him, smiling. "I know your truck is your baby." She lightly patted his cheek, and he grabbed her hand, his eyes staying on hers as he turned his head to kiss the center of it.

"That I only trust you to drive.”

In college, he had an old car that got decent gas mileage, so he didn’t break the bank when he visited home—it was the same vehicle he fled from Laredo in, on the day of his first wedding. It got him through the DEA academy, and when he received his first assignment, he sold it because he was being sent to Guadalajara, Mexico, and had no need for it. Getting rid of that car was Javier letting go of the last remnant of his previous life, and boarding the plane to Mexico with nothing but the clothes on his back and a duffle bag was the beginning of a new one.

The vehicles he drove while working with the DEA were all owned by the United States government; he didn’t need to buy one for himself. When he finally quit his job, he didn’t have very many earthly possessions and showed up at his father’s with his overnight bag, his duffle bag, and all of his suits, the two boxes containing the rest of his shit arriving a couple of days after him. He borrowed the spare pickup used for work around the ranch if he needed to drive anywhere. Once Javier returned to Laredo for good after a year in Miami with the Murphys, that was when he pulled the trigger and bought himself a truck—a nice truck that was only a couple of years old and practically new with how little miles were on it.

His ‘95 Ford F-250 SuperCab was a deep maroon and was a huge step up from the old pickup he had in high school and the shitty car he sold when the DEA sent him to another country.

She snorted. "Javier, this is literally the first time you're letting me drive it."

"I would’ve let you drive it sooner if you’d asked—I trust you, and now you’re my wife, so it belongs to you, too.”

Her face lit up. "Wait," she said, "say I’m your wife again."

"You're my wife."

"Damn straight, I am your wife now, and you're my husband! Oh my god, we're married!"

His smile was big as he chuckled and stepped into her space, his large hands cradling her cheeks as he kissed her.

He loved that she was just as excited as him over their new titles. They broke apart, and his eyes took in how beautiful she looked, and the need to be alone with her slammed into him again.

"Let's go," he said, taking her free hand and leading her to the driver’s side of his pickup. He let go to open the door for her and offered a palm, which she gladly accepted, to help her get up into the cab. He ensured she was inside and closed the door, walking around to the passenger seat to join her.

He took off his tuxedo jacket and set it on the backseat—once inside the cab of the truck, with the doors closed, he scooted over to the middle of the bench seat while she made adjustments in order to drive comfortably; her dress was rucked up her thighs to better move her legs, and his were too long, having to rest his feet on the passenger floorboards.

He gravitated toward her, getting pulled into her orbit, Javier unable to keep from cuddling up close to her after their seatbelts were buckled. His upper body twisted her way, nosing against her skin and peppering kisses along her jaw as she brought the engine to life with a turn of the key.

It was twilight outside, the sun setting, leaving traces of itself behind with the horizon colored a soft orange, the sky darkening to a deep blue that could rival the color of the ocean.

He couldn’t believe this beautiful woman was his wife—this beautiful woman who smelled fucking incredible and had him half-hard in his pants at the fact he was hers, and she was his; Jesus Christ, he had never wanted her more than he did at this moment, feeling arousal burning hot in his belly. He had to touch her, his right hand going across his body to rub his fingers along the inside of her knee, his lips pressing to the column of her throat, luxuriating in her perfume and the softness of her skin.

“You’re gonna be stuck to me like an octopus all night, aren’t you?” she asked amusedly as she switched on the headlights and put the truck into drive, getting them on their way.

He slid the tip of his nose up the side of her neck to her ear, pressing his lips to it as he whispered, “Yes, I’m gonna be all over you, my wife, my smart, amazing, sexy wife, who I’m dying to be inside of—when we get to Pop’s, let’s have some fun in my room before we go to the party; I wanna make you feel good.”

She giggled. “There’s not enough time before your dad meets us there.” She rubbed his thigh, then rested her hand on it, staking her claim, her touch feeling electric and making sparks dance low in his belly—no wonder she loved it when he did the same thing to her; it felt really fucking good.

“We’ll be quick,” he told her. He kissed the sensitive spot right below her ear and smiled at how she shivered. His fingertips skated over the soft, stretchy fabric covering her inner thigh on their path to the heat radiating between her legs. "Come on, baby," he said, softly kissing her jaw. His hand made it to her pussy, where she was hot, and her neediness had started to seep through the layers. "You're already so wet for me."

He was so focused on her that the sudden feeling of her palm on his dick had a groan slipping from his throat and excitement jolting in his stomach. His mouth went dry as she started stroking him over his pants, getting him completely hard in record time.

"As much as I'd love to have a quickie with you back at the house," she said, "it's too risky. So, counteroffer."

His hand was under her dress, rubbing her sex.

"Counteroffer?" he asked and nibbled on her earlobe.

She gulped, and he loved that she was just as affected by him as he was by her. "Yes, a counteroffer—we've got twenty-five/thirty minutes before we're back at your dad's, and I know you're ridiculously horny—" That was an understatement; his libido was running rampant and his desire for her was consuming every cell in his body, and he thought he might go insane if he didn't fuck her soon. "—and,” she continued, “you won't be able to enjoy yourself at the party because of it. So, how about I make you feel a little better by getting you off with my hand."

The thought of her jerking him off made him twitch in her palm.

When it came to hand jobs, either the person giving it knew what they were doing, or it felt like they were trying to tug his dick right off his body. His wife was thankfully in the first category and had taken the time to learn what he liked; in terms of only using hands, there was nothing better than her working him over—he'd rather fuck her, of course, but if this was all they could do for the time being, then he wasn't going to say no, and she was right; if he didn’t come and alleviate some of his horniness, he wouldn’t be able to enjoy himself tonight.

He rasped in her ear, "Counteroffer."

She snorted. "A counteroffer to my counteroffer?"

"Yeah, it's called negotiation."

She squeezed his shaft, and his breath caught in his throat. "Okay, smartass, what's your counteroffer?"

His Adam’s Apple bobbed as he swallowed, and he smiled. "We get off together—I'll rub your pussy, and you can jerk me off, but only if you'll still be able to drive.” It was getting darker now that the sun had set, and his truck’s headlights guided them across the landscape. “Otherwise,” he went on, “yes, mi amor (my love), you can make me come with your hand."

She bit her lip, thinking it over, her eyes staying on what was in front of them—his pickup’s newer suspension dulled the bumps of the uneven ground. “I’ll still be able to drive, and it’s not like there’s anything out here for me to hit.” There weren’t any trees or cattle where they were, just miles and miles of grass and more grass until they reached the gate that opened to the road. “How romantic,” she said, “our first time fooling around as husband and wife, and it’s hand stuff in your truck, like our first date—get your dick out. Let’s do this.”

Her agreement was like pouring gasoline over the flames in his belly, making them roar, his skin practically vibrating from anticipation. Right away, his hands went to his belt, the buckle clinking as he undid it, and within seconds he had his pants open, his cock springing free when he pushed his underwear down and tucked them under his balls to keep them out of the way. He was already leaking from the tip, so hard and throbbing, he needed friction desperately, having to grip himself and give it a few strokes.

She glanced over at his lap, her face illuminated by the soft light of the sky outside and the pickup’s dashboard; the first word that popped into his mind was ‘beautiful.’

“My husband has the prettiest dick,” she mused, “and it’s all mine—talk about being the luckiest wife in the world; move your hand, babe.” He let go and watched as she turned her attention forward again and spit in her palm, the action causing heat to shoot down to his cock, making it twitch.

Her touch was searing when she took him in hand, his hips bucking up into it of their own accord as Javier groaned.

“Last night, I couldn’t sleep,” she said, stroking him from base to tip and twisting on the upstroke for her fingers to rub along the sensitive spots under the head. “I was alone in your room—” She stayed at his dad’s the night before without him. “—in your bed, smelling you everywhere, and I missed you so much that I kept thinking about our wedding, but when that started making me anxious, I began imagining what we’d do after partying with everyone.” She didn’t know he got them a suite at the nicest hotel in town. Her palm felt so good on him, he just remembered he was supposed to be getting her off, too—he leaned into her side, his arm reaching across his body to get his hand under her dress, over the stretchy material covering her, knowing his fingers hit the right spot when her breath hitched; he started circling her clit, his lips going to a spot behind her ear he knew made her toes curl, and kissed it. “Mmm,” she hummed in appreciation.

“What were you thinking about?” he asked, the words coming out huskier.

She had to clear her throat.

“What your reaction will be when you see my lingerie.”

The thought alone had him breathing out a fuck, picturing a variety of pieces she could possibly wear, and what he knew for sure was whatever she chose would be better than anything he could imagine because she was intimately aware of all of the little things that drove him wild.

“Then I started imagining how you’d fuck me in it,” she said, her tone turning sultry. Javier’s heart was pounding, his lips parting; she had his dick in the tight clutch of her fist, steadily moving up and down his shaft, gliding with ease from her saliva and the beads of precum catching on her fingers. “I touched myself while I imagined you tossing me onto the bed and burying your face between my legs—“ He jerked in her palm that she played with herself while thinking about him. “—you’re dying to lick my pussy, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he answered truthfully. It was the first thing he planned to do when he had a chance, wanting to taste his wife.

“Yeah, you are—god, that feels so good.” His fingers continued swirling around her bundle of nerves. “Go a little faster.” He did. “That’s it,” she purred. “Mm, so I imagined you eating my pussy while you pushed two of your amazing, thick fingers into me, slipping in so easy from how wet I was and your come that was still inside me from when we fucked last night.”

“Jesus Christ,” he gasped, easily imagining everything she was saying, thrusting up into her hand.

“There’s that slight stretch when you press them in, and they’re long enough to reach that spot—you know the one—I can’t reach it, I can’t even find it with my vibrator, but somehow you always zero in on it to make me see god, and you love that. You love to make me feel good, so I was rubbing my clit while thinking about how you’ll have me on my back as soon as we get home with your mouth on my cunt, and your fingers hitting that spot over and over again until I’m crying out your name, and coming all over your face.”

She had his mouth-watering and his cock weeping arousal, Javier needing to get her just as worked up as him, so he didn’t get to the finish line before her—he needed to make his wife come before him. It was a challenge to focus with her stroking him just right, and he had to take a deep breath to steady himself before he hovered his lips over her ear so the hot air leaving his mouth would tickle her skin.

“What you imagined,” he rasped, “is that what you think will happen, or what you want to happen? Do you want your husband to eat your perfect little pussy when we’re finally alone in our room?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

His lips met the side of her neck, softly kissing it. “And after your husband drowns in your come, what do you want? Do you want his big dick down your throat? Or will your needy cunt be too hungry for your husband’s cock?” She moaned, and the sound went straight to his groin; he fucking had her. Javier’s fingers kept moving against her clit the way she liked. “Mmm, of course, you want me to fill your tight pussy; you’re always craving my dick.”

“God, yes,” she gasped, her hand continuing to work him over.

“No one’s ever stuffed you so full or filled you so perfectly, huh? Is that what you want, baby?” He kissed her jaw. “You want your husband to fuck you? You want your husband’s dick? My dick that belongs to you and only you.”

“Yes,” she answered, and he nuzzled against the side of her throat, loving how her perfume filled his nose. Her breaths were coming out heavier, her jaw slack.

“I’ll fuck you, mi amor.” His voice was muffled as his lips began a journey from the spot where her neck met her shoulder, kissing up to the delicate skin behind her ear, where he sucked—she let out a loud moan. He kept speaking, “I’ll give you whatever you want—I’ll fuck you however you want. You want me to put you on your hands and knees and fuck you until you’re cockdumb?”

“Oh, fuck, I’m almost there.” Her words came out breathy. “Don’t stop.”

His mouth was at the side of her head, keeping his voice low, “Yeah, you want me to fuck you until I have you drooling—I’ll fuck you so good that the only word said from those perfect lips is my name. Then after I make you come all over my cock, I’m gonna fuck you full of me—fill you up to the point I’m dripping out of you. I know you want your husband to fuck his come so deep inside of you that we’ll have a baby in nine months.” She made a choked noise. “You want your husband to get you pregnant.”

The previous week was their first attempt at actually trying for a baby, and now that there was a chance she could be pregnant, saying all that stuff riled them up even more than it usually did, so it wasn’t surprising that it did her in—her hand suddenly stopped, her body tensing up tight as she softly gasped his name, Javier’s fingers still rubbing her swollen bud to extend her high.

“Good girl,” he praised and kissed her cheek.

She was panting, her chest heaving. Her driving hadn’t been hindered, and she swallowed hard, Javier stopping his hand.

A smile was on her lips as she glanced over for a second. “My husband’s turn.” She winked, and he huffed out a breath. She dragged her thumb over the tip of his dick, smearing the dribbling precum, then tightened her palm around it, moving up and down in quick, shallow strokes.

“Fuck,” Javier whined. His mouth fell open, and the muscles in his gut were knotting up.

Truth be told, the shit he said to her had gotten to him, too, and he couldn't believe how close he was to coming after the handful of minutes they’d been at this. It reminded him of his first experience messing around with a girl in his teens, both of them virgins with no idea what the fuck they were doing, and he was so excited he blew his load after a minute of her hand fumbling on his cock—this time he made it past a minute, but compared to how long he usually lasted, this was going to end embarrassingly quick.

Cielito’s attention went back to looking out the windshield. “You wanna know what got me off last night when I was fantasizing about tonight?” He was so hard it hurt, and he couldn’t speak, so he nodded. “That as you fucked my brains out, I could feel your wedding ring on my skin wherever your hand was—my ass, my tit, my back, my belly, my face—I knew I was being fucked by my husband, that you were mine.”

The realization he’d feel/see her wedding band, too, caused a strangled moan to leave his mouth—his hips thrusted up into her palm as best he could while sitting, the rhythm jerky with desperation.

“Is my husband gonna come for me?” It thrilled him every time she called him that and fueled the white-hot ache boiling deep in his stomach that begged for release. Javier was so close he was balancing on a wire and on the verge of tipping over. “Come for me, baby,” she ordered. “Come for your wife.”

Wasn’t this a similar scenario to the first time he got a hand job? He was fooling around with his wife for the first time and was abso-fuckin-lutely excited to have her touching him, add in his happiness over being a married man and the fact this incredible woman loved him, and yeah, it did make sense that Javier was about to come quicker than a virgin in a whorehou—“shit,” he groaned. “‘M coming.”

His balls drew up, and the coil in his gut snapped, Javier letting out a shuddering moan as he came in her hand—she caught spurt after spurt of his spend in her palm, the pleasure exploding behind his eyelids, and erasing all thoughts from his mind as she wrung him out to the point he slumped in his seat, panting, and riding out the aftershocks.

The orgasm had him all nice and relaxed and had calmed the horniness, turning it from a screaming ache to something softer and easier to handle.

It took a moment for his brain to start working again, and the first thing he said was, “I love you.” A need came over him to feel her lips on his, so he gently grasped her chin in his hand, turning her head at an awkward angle that allowed her to still see where they were going while he kissed one side of her mouth.

“Mmm, I love you, too,” you muffled against his lips, breathing in his aftershave and spicy cologne with its familiar citrusy notes and the lovely musk.

Honestly, it was pure luck that you didn’t run into any holes while you distractedly drove. Javi touching you while you jerked him off would’ve been impossible to do on an actual road, not to mention unbelievably dangerous, with your attention being pulled in three different directions—driving, getting fingered, and jerking him off. Your husband—god, you loved the thought of that—your husband didn’t have any issues fooling around when he was driving, and you weren’t sure if it was because of his skill at multitasking or all of the practice he’d had in his youth; his truck from his teens saw a lot of action and was his favorite place to get busy. It was probably a mix of the two, and he was both skilled and had the practice, which would explain why he was perfectly fine with you choking on his cock as he drove—when he was sober. It was possible Tipsy Javi wouldn’t have any problems, either, but that wasn’t something you felt like testing.

One of your hands was on the steering wheel, and the other was closed to keep the handful of Javi’s come from dripping out—obviously, you were thinking with your pussy when you offered to give him a handy since you didn’t have a plan for what you’d do once he finished.

His mouth left yours, and you faced forward, your husband tucking his softened dick back into his underwear, then he leaned in the opposite direction of you to pop open the glove compartment, hearing him rustling around in it. He straightened, his big hand carefully grasping your wrist in his lap.

“Open,” he said, and with your palm up, you did.

Warmth filled your chest when you felt him using tissues to clean up the mess, and you looked over to see he had a small pocket pack of Kleenex opened on his thigh.

“The best husband,” you told him and focused back on driving. “Thank you, baby.”

“You’re welcome, cariño (sweetheart).” He’d gotten most of it wiped up. “I know you were playing dirty when you licked your fingers clean on our first date to try and get me to stay the night, but tonight, I don’t need a show; nothing will keep me from going home with you, and letting you use me however you want.”

“Love that for me, but be honest, babe. You’re wiping it up so I don’t turn you on by eating it.”

He sighed and finished cleaning your hand, discarding the used tissues onto the floor.

“Yeah,” he grumbled, moving to put the remaining pack of Kleenex back from where it came.

You smiled. “My adorably horny husband.”

He sat back in his seat and lifted your hand, kissing the inside of your wrist; the sensitive skin tingled beneath his plush lips and the tickle of his mustache.

“Who’s only horny for his beautiful wife,” he added, his thumb gently rubbing over where he kissed. “Now, keep your eyes forward and your hand up like this for me, please.”

“Intriguing request,” you replied, keeping your hand raised in front of him.

There was movement out of the corner of your eye, Javi getting something from the open glove box.

"Whatcha doing?" you asked, hearing what you thought was the soft slide of a lid coming off something.

"In a second, you'll know—be patient."

You frowned. "Fine."

He was right—a second later, you discovered he was putting a bracelet onto your wrist, thinking it was some kind of bangle with how Javi had to push the thin, rigid, ring-shaped metal over your hand to get it on and somehow tightened it, keeping it a little loose for your comfort.

"Before you look," Javi said, holding your fingers in his palm and sliding the pad of his thumb along your knuckles. I know we didn't talk about getting gifts for each other, so please don't feel bad that you don't have anything for me.”

“You got me a wedding present?” you whispered.

His face dipped to kiss the back of your hand. “Yes,” he answered, then turned his head, pressing his lips to your bare shoulder. He spoke softly, “We have our rings to celebrate our marriage, but I wanted you to have something that celebrated us as a family.”

Your eyes started to burn at the sweetness of this man, and for the umpteenth time, you wondered to yourself how in the world you got so lucky that he was your husband.

“Oh my god, Javi—can I look?”

“Yes,” he answered, reaching up to push the overhead light and clicking it on. The inside of the truck brightened.

You held up your hand, your eyes moving back and forth between the headlight-illuminated ground ahead of you and admiring the bracelet—it was gold, like your engagement ring and wedding band, the ends of the thin wire crossing each other, and looping around the opposite side to keep it together with two small teardrop-shaped pendants dangling from it, the first one you immediately recognized as the birthstone for the month you were born, and the second was turquoise, the opaque robin-egg blue gem shining under the light.

Tears muddled your vision. “Our birthstones?” you asked but knew the answer.

“Yes, mi amor.” He turned off the light and took your lifted hand into both of his. “My dad always bought my mom jewelry for special occasions, like her necklace you’re wearing—” Chucho was letting you borrow it, the necklace made up of what looked like connected silver waves with purple sapphires in each dip. “—I think that was an anniversary gift, or maybe a birthday—”

“Anniversary,” you told him. “Their twentieth. Your mom yelled at him when he gave it to her for spending so much money, then changed her tune and supposedly gave him a bunch of kisses, but with how fondly your dad sighed recounting the story, I’m positive he was giving me the Disney version of events, when in reality what actually happened couldn’t be shown in theaters if you know what I mean.”

“I’d rather not know what you mean or think about that shit—anyways,” he said, and the sudden topic change made you smile, “I went to the jeweler downtown—” That was where you got your wedding bands, and Javi had his mother’s engagement ring altered. “—and after talking it out with them, I thought you’d like the bracelet. The idea was that as our family grows, it would, too, and we’d add our children’s birthstones as they come along.“I just wanted you to have something special for today; what do you think?”

"Tissue me," you said, shaking his hands off your one and holding out your palm. "I don't want to ruin my makeup while I happily cry."

"Fuck," Javi said, immediately digging out the Kleenex from the glove compartment again and putting two tissues into your hand. "I'm sorry."

You blotted at your eyes as you spoke, "There's nothing for you to be sorry about, Javi. This has just been a great fucking day, and this bracelet is perfect—I love that we can add onto it as we have kids. I love you so much." The overwhelming happiness had you crying and trying to catch all the tears before they fell down your face.

"I love you, too, Cielito," he replied. He managed to get his arms around your middle to hug you from the side while kissing your cheek.

It took some seconds for you to calm down, and you loved how he was holding you.

The mascara-stained tissue was clutched in your fist, and you leaned toward him, gently knocking your head against his. “Thank you,” you softly said.

His voice was as low as yours, “For what?”

“Loving me, marrying me, having a family with me—everything, thank you for everything, and making me the happiest I’ve ever been in my entire life.”

“I should be the one thanking you for everything—I know I came with a lot of baggage, but you looked past it; hell, I think you barely glanced at it before giving me a chance, and I’m thankful that none of it scared you away.” He took a deep breath. “You love me for me, flaws and all, and you need to understand that I’m yours—you have all of my love and devotion, and I’m gonna do everything in my power not to fuck this up because you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I want to give you the entire fucking world. So, thank you for everything and for making me the happiest man in existence.”

You turned your head his way as best you could while still being able to see out of the windshield and puckered your lips. “Kiss me,” you demanded.

Javi chuckled, sitting forward to reach your mouth and kissing you tenderly, his arms around you tightening. He pecked the tip of your nose before he pulled back, his eyes roaming over your face in what little light there was from the dashboard and stereo.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he sounded almost in awe.

You snorted and faced the truck’s hood. “My makeup is probably all messed up,” you replied. “I’ll need to stop by your room real quick to touch it up and go to the bathroom before the party.” He visibly perked up in your peripheral, and you rolled your eyes, continuing to speak, “No, we’re not having a quickie, Javier.”

His shoulders slumped.

“You told me to be patient a little bit ago,” you said, “and now it’s your turn to be patient; hold your horses. I promise we’re gonna have sex, but we need to get through celebrating with our friends and family first—we owe it to them after how they’ve helped make today perfect. Knowing your family, the party is probably going to go on until tomorrow morning, and I think we’ll be fine if we disappear around midnight; then we can go home, lock ourselves away from the world, and fuck to our heart’s content, or at least until your dick chafes.”

You didn’t have to look at his face to know he grimaced. “Amor (love), you do know that my dick chafing means I’m fucking you wrong, right? Like, it’d mean you were dry, or there wasn’t enough lube—would I ever do that to you?”

“No, of course not—I’m exaggerating, babe.” You patted his thigh. “Sometimes I think your middle name is actually ‘Foreplay’ with how into it you are, and even if I tell you to stick it in without warming me up, you always make sure things are slick enough for you to Slip ‘N Slide right in.”

“Did you really just use ‘Slip ‘N Slide’ to describe me putting my dick inside you?” He sounded amused.

“Yeah? You make it slippery and slide right in—where’s the lie?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, I love you so much.”

You grinned, glancing over at him. “Thank god you do, ‘cause you kinda married me,” you said, switching hands on the steering wheel to flash him the rings on your left ring finger.

In the dimmed cab, you could see him smiling, and he pressed into your side, saying between kisses to your shoulder and neck, “I didn’t ‘kinda’ marry you. I married you. Period.” His hand pawed at your dress-covered breasts. “You’re my wife, and I’m your husband. We’re officially Mr. and Mrs. Peña.”

“Isn’t that the best thing to say?”

He chuckled, lifting his head to meet your eyes. “It really fucking is.”

"You're joking," Javier said, not believing what Cielito told him.

His outfit was put back together, wearing his black tuxedo and bow tie, with the lavender-colored pocket square and one of his mother’s violet roses pinned to his lapel—he stood in the entryway of his dad’s house outside his childhood bedroom, his wife blocking the door in front of him. She crossed her arms over her chest, and the look on her face made it clear she wasn’t joking.

“I’m serious,” she replied. “You’re not coming in here with me alone.”

They had promised Chucho before the wedding that they wouldn’t do their big entrance at the party without him there because he wanted to take pictures of it. So, the plan was for Cielito to touch up her makeup, and then the two of them were going to hang out for a few minutes until his father and everyone else from the ceremony got there.

Surprisingly, the home was practically empty, with everyone in the backyard where music was already blaring. His prima (cousin) Alma had greeted them when they arrived and was in the living room behind him, staying close in case they needed anything since they couldn’t go outside.

His face scrunched up from confusion.

“You’re acting like I have no self-control—I can keep my hands to myself.”

She scoffed. “That is a dirty fucking lie, and it’s not just you; we both have shitty self-control. The moment that door shuts, and we’re alone, it’s game over, and our marriage will be consummated on the floor of the bedroom you grew up in.”

“The dusty ass floor? No.” He shook his head. “You deserve better than that, and I’d fuck you against the bathroom counter so we can look at each other in the mirror—you love that shit.”

She gestured toward him with her hand and harshly whispered, “And that is why we can’t go into the room alone! You’ve already thought out exactly how you’d fuck me!”

His palm went up onto the doorframe above her head as he leaned in close, ignoring how her eyes darkened, and whispering back just as aggressively, “I’ve had that figured out since the moment you said ‘I do!’ Right now, all I want is to be in the same room as you, and that’s it. So, why don’t we both promise to be on our best behavior, no funny business, or whatever the fuck, because I need to be near you, my wife.” His free hand cradled her cheek, rubbing his thumb along the apple of it, his gaze locked on hers as he practically pleaded, “Please don’t leave me out here alone.”

It was true that all he wanted was to be close to her. He’d steal some kisses, but that was as far as he’d go since she made it clear on their way here that they weren’t going to have sex before the party; Javier wasn’t going to be an asshole and try to change her mind, he respected her choice.

With how her expression softened he knew she could see he was telling the truth.

“Come in with me,” she said, putting her hand over the back of his on her face—he loved that he could feel the cool metal of her rings on his skin. “But we will be on our best behavior and absolutely no funny business.”

He smiled. “None.” He nudged his nose against hers. “Is kissing funny business?”

“No,” she breathed. “Kissing is fine—no tongue, though.”

“No tongue. Noted.” He slotted his lips against hers, kissing her sweetly.

“Ustedes dos son repugnantes (You two are disgusting),” Alma said loud enough for them to hear from the living room—she was the youngest of Javier’s primos (cousins), and in her last year at university. Spring term was starting the following week. “Y tontos (and dumb),” she continued. “Les digo con amor (I say it with love). Si ustedes están tan preocupados, mantengan la puerta abierta (If you guys are so worried, then keep the door open). La solución es obvia (The solution is obvious). La tía Lupita tenía razón cuando dijo que los dos son unos dramáticos (Tía Lupita was right when she called you dramatic).”

Javier groaned, breaking the kiss. “No llames tonta a mi esposa ni hables como si no estuviéramos aqui (Don’t call my wife dumb and don’t talk like we aren’t here),” he told the young girl.

“Es que hablan tan alto que ni siquiera puedo ignorarlos (You’re so loud I can’t even ignore you). Apurense, que tío está en camino, llegará en cualquier momento (You better hurry up, tío’s on his way and will be here any minute).”

“She’s right,” Cielito said. “I better hurry up and fix my face.”

His head moved back to look her in the eyes. “Okay,” he replied. He whispered the next part so the woman in the other room didn’t hear him, “She had a point about the door—we should keep it open.”

“Yeah. I was thinking the same thing.”

The bedroom door stayed open when they went inside, Javier following his wife into the bathroom. This was something he loved to do, leaning back against the vanity and watching her put on makeup, or other times wash her face or apply her creams and serums, as they talked and joked around, the smile never wavering from his face. It was comfortable being there with her, and her presence soothed him; he was listening to her telling him about her day, and he wished he could’ve been there while she got ready for their wedding, but he also loved that the first time he saw her all dressed up was when his father walked her to him at the ceremony.

Alma was correct, and Chucho arrived, finding them in the en suite, the Murphys, Robyn, and his primos Sebastián and Angelita going out back. With how rowdy these parties could get, his wife decided to take off his mother’s necklace and put it back in its thin, black leather case to keep it safe. Once she finished touching up her makeup, it was time to head outside.

Their reception was being held under a giant white wall-less pole tent in his father’s massive backyard—the dance floor was set up in the center of it with many circular tables on either side, the DJ booth his cousin Diego was using at the edge of it closest to the long side that had a buffet along it prepared by his tías and their daughters/daughters in law, and a bar manned by his tío Ángel; the middle of the opposite side had a two-person sweetheart’s table where Cielito and he would sit to eat, the desserts table with the three-tier wedding cake and other sweets next to theirs.

They didn’t bother with a seating chart, seeing as 90% of the guests were related to him, and the remaining 10% were friends who everyone liked—there was a round table close to them reserved for his dad, the Murphys, Robyn, and Seb since they declined to sit at a bigger table with the newlyweds.

Chucho told them to follow him out the backdoor because he had a surprise before they made their grand entrance at the party. Javier held his wife’s hand as they exited into the backyard, the sky darkened, and stars were beginning to shine, the area lit up from string lights overhead being held up by poles, the lemony scent of citronella wafting in the air from the numerous tiki torches surrounding the tent to keep away bugs.

It wasn’t a surprise, it was two surprises, Cielito gasping “Oh my god,” when she saw, and Javier grinning—Daphne and Velma, their beloved bovine children, had flower crowns on their heads made of light and dark purple peonies, with a few white ones amongst the others—at eight months, the calves were barely half the size of a full grown cow and were tethered with long ropes from their halters to a small metal-fenced corral set up for that night; a bale of hay was in front of them and out of reach that had a hand-painted sign leaning against it that read, ‘Our parents got married!’ with the date beneath it, and a big bucket of vegetables nearby for people to feed them.

Immediately, the newlyweds were walking toward their bovine daughters, and upon Daphne and Velma seeing them, their tails started wagging in excitement like giant puppies—tail wagging meant different things for calves and full-grown cows. A calf did it when they were happy; an adult, though? It usually indicated they were irritated, and you better get the fuck out of the way, or you were going to get kicked.

As soon as Javier and his wife were close enough, they were giving the girls pets; he was scratching the red-haired calf under her chin on the spot he knew she loved.

“Oh, mis preciosas que lindas estan! (my lovelies, look how pretty you are!),” he cooed. “Que chulas (So cute).” He traded places with Cielito to give Velma some love. “Me encantan tus coronitas (I love your little crowns). Mis princesitas (My little princesses).”

“Mijo,” his father said to get his attention, and he looked back over his shoulder at him. The older man had his camera hanging around his neck, and he held it up. “Quiero tomar una foto de tu familia, por favor (I want to take a picture of your family, please).”

His family.

If someone told him a year ago that in the next twelve months, he was going to meet his soulmate, marry her, and they’d actively be trying for a baby, he would’ve asked what they were on because it had to be something good with how delusional all of that sounded—if they’d said scientists would find proof the moon was made of cheese, that would’ve been more believable than Javier getting a family of his own and truly being happy.

But it had happened. He found his person, the one, and now he had his own family.

He made sure to tell his wife many times before their wedding that she was a part of his family, and he meant it—their marriage simply solidified it, setting in stone that she was officially a Peña, and their lives were firmly intertwined for life; it also was the beginning of their own little family, one that started with the two of them and would slowly grow as they had children.

Warmth spread through his body that in another year, they could have a kid—they'd hopefully be living in their house they were building with their baby and the dog he wanted to get; he didn't have a particular dog in mind, but his father said that when they move in with him while waiting for their home to be finished, they could get one, and Javier planned on adopting from the local shelter.

“Por supuesto que sí, Pop (Of course, Pop),” Javier replied. “Dame un segundo (Give me a second).”

He walked over to the bucket and pulled out two long carrots, handing one to his smiling wife when he returned to her and stealing a quick kiss. They’d found the best way to get the calves to stay still while getting their pictures taken was plying them with treats, so the two humans got between the bovines, Javier beside Cielito with his arm around her back, facing his dad. They both held up a carrot to the girl on their other side, who happily started to munch away. They grinned as the flash repeatedly went off, Chucho taking many photos.

“¡Bésala (Kiss her)!” his father ordered, making him and his wife laugh, but doing as they were told, turning their heads toward each other, and Javier sealing his lips against hers.

All that time ago in the grocery store when they first met, something happened as they talked; he felt a funny sensation in his gut that he didn’t recognize at first because it was so foreign, and it wasn’t until he was unable to stop thinking about the sweet, beautiful woman who helped him find the perfect tomato on his drive home that he realized the fluttering in his stomach was butterflies, honest to god butterflies that he probably hadn’t felt since high school.

The thing was, they never went away after that first encounter, and any time he was around her, the butterflies went wild like he was some lovesick teenager.

And right now, the wings were flapping like crazy in his belly as he kissed her, his wife.

A hard skull headbutted his hip, and he ended the kiss, Cielito giggling as they separated. He looked down at Velma, who’d finished her carrot and was begging for more by bumping into him, his wife, in the same predicament.

The woman next to him cooed to Daphne, “Your abuelo (grandpa) feeds you well. Why are you acting like you’re starving?”

The camera’s flash had stopped going off. His father must’ve finished taking pictures.

Javier bent at the waist to scratch the black-haired calf’s cheeks.

He spoke in a sweet tone, “Porque nuestras hijas son malcriadas (Because our daughters are spoiled). Aren’t you? Bien, una más y luego tenemos que irnos (Okay, one more then we have to go).” They’d need to run back inside to wash their hands.

Chucho walked over to the bucket, his camera resting against his chest as he grabbed two turnips and brought the root vegetables to them that they took and gave to the girls after saying thanks.

Running inside to wash their hands should've only taken a couple of minutes, but the newlyweds fucked up and closed the door when they went into the bathroom, so a couple minutes turned into five and would've been more if his dad hadn't interrupted their heavy makeout session his wife started—when his father yelled and banged on the door, Javier had Cielito backed against a wall with her dress raised enough to hike her leg up on his hip, while his big hand gripped her thigh over a blue garter he couldn’t wait to take off; their lips were fused together with his tongue in her mouth, the no tongue rule while kissing clearly flying out the window.

Sure, it was embarrassing, but it confirmed that their self-control was so shitty when they were left alone that later on, once they arrived at the party and the festivities started, if he could find them a nice secluded spot, things would heat up to the point they’d end up fucking, and Javier wanted nothing more than to be inside his wife; she said no sex before the party, she didn’t say anything about no sex during it, and you can bet your ass he was going to exploit that loophole the first chance he got—he was already figuring out potential places he could take her inside and outside Chucho’s house.

He had to adjust himself in his pants, so it wasn’t obvious he was hard before they sheepishly exited the bathroom to his dad standing in the hallway shaking his head with his arms crossed in front of him.

“Eres peor de lo que yo era con tu mamá, Mijo (You’re worse than I was with your mom, Mijo),” Chucho said. “No puedo dejarlos solos ni un minuto (I can’t leave you alone for a minute).”

“Oye (Hey),” Javier replied, “me dijiste que la besara antes (you told me to kiss her earlier). No puedes estar enojado conmigo por hacer lo que dijiste (You can’t be mad at me for doing what you said).”

If his mother were here, his smartass response would’ve gotten him hit upside the head with a chancla (flip-flop)—his father, on the other hand, just gave him the look that meant Javier needed to cut the shit; it was the look that even as a full-grown forty-year-old man, made him gulp.

“Eso fue diferente y lo sabes (That was different and you know it). Ahora, deja de ser grosero con tus invitados haciéndolos esperar y sal afuera (Now, stop being rude to your guests by making them wait and go outside).”

“Lo siento, Pop (I’m sorry, Pop). Nosotros vamos afuera ahora mismo (We’re going outside right now).”

“Bueno (Good).” Chucho nodded. “Le diré a tu primo que estás listo (I’ll tell your cousin you’re ready).” He meant Diego, who was the emcee and deejaying.

Returning to the backyard, they waited for their arrival to be announced and got to watch from a distance how his primo was working the crowd under the tent from his small DJ booth. Diego was currently playing “Amor Prohibido'' by Selena, and the beer and liquor were already flowing amongst the party guests, many of them standing at their tables dancing and singing along to the song. They could see his dad weaving through the people, heading to his cousin.

Cielito stood in front of him, fussing with his hair while he held her hips over the buttery-soft material of her dress.

She was nervous.

He could see it in her eyes and how she repeatedly asked if she looked okay, which he always answered with the truth: she looked more than okay; she was stunning. Now, she was fixing his already perfect hair, and next, she’d move onto his tuxedo to probably smooth out wrinkles that weren’t there or adjust his bowtie that needed no adjustment because it soothed her to take care of him.

“Is it all the people, mi amor?” he asked softly.

“Huh?” She smoothed her palms over his jacket-covered shoulders.

“Is it all the people that’s making you nervous?”

“Oh. Yeah.”

Selena’s upbeat tune, which Javier knew every word to, was still going.

“You wanna know something?”

She was busying her fingers with straightening his straight bowtie. “Sure.”

“This song reminds me of us.”

She looked at him, her hands pausing. “The only people who consider our love forbidden are my DNA Donors…”

He took her hands into his larger ones and kissed her knuckles. “Exactly.” He leaned closer so his mouth was near her ear and quietly sang some of the lines from the beginning of the track:

“Y cuando al fin estemos juntos, los dos (And when we are finally together, the two of us) Que importa que diran (What does it matter what they will say) Tu padre y tu mama (Your father and your mother) Aquí, solo importa nuestro amor (Here, only our love matters) Te quiero (I love you).”

The song was almost over, and Javier switched to singing along with what was playing:

“‘Amor prohibido,’ murmuran por las calles (‘Forbidden Love,’ they murmur in the streets) Porque somos de distintas sociedades (Because we’re from different societies) ‘Amor prohibido,’ nos dice todo el mundo (‘Forbidden Love’ is what the whole world tells us) El dinero no importa en ti ni en mí (Money doesn’t matter in you nor in me).”

He kissed her cheek. “The song reminds me of us,” he said, “because it’s true; it doesn’t matter what those people you share blood with think, or that we’re from different walks of life, and money doesn’t even fit into the fucking equation—the only thing that matters is our love; what we have means a whole lot more than anything that can be bought or social status, and they can all fuck right off with their opinions ‘cause they don’t mean shit. lo que importa es que te amo, y tú me amas, y eso es algo que durará incluso después de que este mundo ya no exista y el sol deje de brillar (All that matters is I love you, and you love me, and that is something that will last even after this world is no more, and the sun stops shining). Te amo más que a nada (I love you more than anything).”

Suddenly, his wife was gently pushing him back, her mouth finding his a second later, kissing him hard; he hugged her flush against his body, unable to keep the smile off of his lips—love had filled every nook and cranny in his chest to the point of almost bursting, contentment making his body feel all warm and fuzzy.

The music had stopped, and Diego could be heard over the sound system, “Señores y señoras, familia y amigos, démosle la bienvenida a los novios, Mr. and Mrs. Peña (Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends, let’s welcome the bride and groom, Mr. and Mrs. Peña)!”

When it came to them choosing the language used for their ceremony and reception, they based their decision on what the majority of the guests spoke fluently—their ceremony was in English because it was attended mainly by the Murphys and with the high ratio of the reception’s guests being his family, they went with Spanish.

The beginning horns of their intro music, “Tiburon” by Proyecto Uno, started playing over the sound system, and they broke apart, grinning.

He cupped her cheek. “Ready, Mrs. Peña?” he asked.

“Ready, Mr. Peña.” She stepped to stand at his side, taking his hand, and he lightly squeezed it before they started walking with smiles on their faces toward the uproar beneath the tent of music, cheering, and clapping.

The moon was hanging in the dark night sky, surrounded by bright, twinkling stars, their path illuminated by zig-zagging string lights above their heads. The tent was wall-less, but they put up white lattice arches at either end, which were decorated with fake ivy and signs at their sides welcoming everyone to the party. Inside, rows of more string lights were across the ceiling; the tablecloths on every table were the same shade of soft purple as his pocket square, and atop the tabletops were clear vases filled with sprigs of lavender, that served as decoration and kept away any bugs who made it past the citronella tiki torches outside—his wife’s great idea.

As soon as they got to their little two-person table, dinner would start, keeping people busy for a while and giving them some time to sit alone together.

Javier was on a mission to get them seated as quickly as possible; he didn’t wave, he didn’t stop to talk to anyone, he just smiled, holding his wife’s hand that every few seconds he’d give a reassuring squeeze to remind her he was right there, and matched her pace, unable to stop himself from looking over to check up on her at almost the same frequency of his palm tightening around hers—he was so focused on her that everything else was a blur of faceless people and camera flashes.

The moment they were at their table, he was turning her way, his hands framing her face as he searched her eyes, and she visibly relaxed when she met his gaze, the tension leaving her shoulders. Her palms came up to cover the backs of his hands with a happy, little smile on her lips.

Javier spoke loud enough for her to hear over the ruckus. “You okay?”

“Yes.”

He crookedly smiled and closed the distance, tenderly kissing her—the room seemed to erupt in louder cheers and wolf-whistles. His mouth left hers to whisper in her ear, “I love you, and if it gets to be too much, just say the word, and I’ll get you out of here.”

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#pedro pascal #wheresarizona writes #learning to live series #ethereal writes #etherealupdates #etherealficrecs #javier peña x reader #javier peña/you #javier peña x you #javier peña/reader #javier peña fanfiction

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theetherealbloom · 2 years ago

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OH I ABSOLUTELY LOVE A GOOD UNREQUITED FIC— AND WITH MATT TOO? SIGN ME UP RN.

HAVE YOU BEEN READING MY DIARYY?? BELLA IM SO EXCITED FOR THIS WAHHHH

GOD i HOPE MATT BEGS. LIKE ON HIS KNEES BEGS WHEN HE REALIZES HE LOVES THE READER. LIKE I nEED him to do everything to make up for the YEARS he didn’t appreciate the reader .

(Alexa, play All of The Girls You’ve Loved Before and You’re Losing Me by Taylor Swift 😭)

All These Years [Part 1: "Saturday Night"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: You met Matthew Murdock unexpectedly at Columbia University and you couldn't deny that there was an instant attraction–for you. But for Matt, you became as close of a friend to him as Foggy did. As the years pass by, your feelings only grow for your best friend, but all you can do is watch as he dates and sleeps with every other woman on campus and eventually in New York City but you.

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut

Word Count: 3.3k

a/n: Welcome to me starting yet another Matt Murdock series. This one isn't intended to be too long, but this story will be told in a series of installments (much like my series Falling For the Devil is). It will be angsty and there won't be comfort for a long while. This series will follow Matt and Reader briefly through college and then after, all the while Reader pines secretly for Matt. You can find the installment list for this series here. If you're enjoying it, please leave me some love!

Sprawled out across Foggy’s bed and lying on your stomach, you focused on your laptop on the mattress before you. Absently chewing on your thumbnail, you were trying to finish your assignment for class while simultaneously trying to tune out the Foo Fighters blasting from Foggy’s laptop just next to you. As you worked, your left hand dropped down the side of the messy bed, fingers feeling around for your beer bottle on the floor. A moment later you found it, your hand curling around the neck of the bottle and picking it up. You brought it to your lips for a long drink, eyes never leaving the laptop screen.

You often spent your Saturday nights hanging out in Foggy and Matt’s dorm because your roommate was usually fucking her boyfriend. It wasn’t a secret. So you usually spent the evening either drinking with the pair of them, working on assignments, or both. And usually both Matt and Foggy were here with you, their dorm room filled with the sounds of teasing jokes and loud laughter from the three of you. It was a ritual that you’d all always splurge on takeout, the room smelling like pizza or burgers or thai. And that was how every Saturday night had gone since you’d met both Matt and Foggy. Except on the evenings Matt was out on a date.

Like tonight.

And on those nights, you always drank and worked on homework. Generally while Foggy sent you sad, knowing looks and occasional comments telling you to just admit your feelings to Matt, which then usually resulted in you denying your feelings wholeheartedly.

But the truth of it was, Foggy was right. You’d had feelings for Matt since the day you’d met him at the library six months ago.

°•°•°•°•°•°

Frantically your thumbs swiped across your phone screen, typing up a message to Professor McCarthy discussing the details of your current project. You were hoping to make some headway on it at the library today, planning to work in the quiet confines of the library away from your very sexually active roommate.

You were almost finished writing the message when you ran straight into something incredibly solid, your phone almost falling right out of your hands at the collision. But before you had the chance to even glance up and see who it was you had hit, a loud handful of heavy thuds rang out before a sharp pain shot up through your right foot.

“Son of a motherless donkey!” you shouted.

A loud snicker came from in front of you, but a very enraged librarian yelled out over the noise and drew your attention.

“We do not shout in the library, miss!” she scolded. “Keep your voice down or leave!”

You shot her a sheepish, strained smile as your foot throbbed in pain. She glared at you a moment longer before returning back to her computer, your attention finally focusing on who you’d apparently run headlong into. And then you’d almost jumped back in surprise, not expecting your victim to be the guy grinning down at you. He was wearing dark glasses which covered his eyes, but even despite that, you could easily see how attractive he was. Your mouth felt like it had gone dry instantly.

He was beautiful .

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I should have been watching where I was going, I’m sorry.”

“Quite alright. And I apologize for dropping my books on you,” he said, the grin never leaving his face. “Didn’t break your toes, did I?”

“No,” you said, a nervous laugh leaving you. “Let me just–”

You bent down to help him gather his books at the exact same moment he’d bent down to do the same, which resulted in the pair of you bumping your foreheads together. Standing bolt upright, your right hand flew to your forehead rubbing the sore spot as you cursed under your breath. An amused chuckle sounded before you, the noise drawing your attention.

“What? No more interesting curses that time?” he teased, the palm of his hand briefly rubbing his own forehead. “I’m not suddenly the son of a fatherless goat now?”

You flushed, shaking your head but unable to fight down the smile that was spreading over your lips. “Uh, no,” you answered. “Sorry, I uh, I can grab your books.”

“That’s alright, I can grab them,” he assured you.

“No, really,” you pressed, “I caused you to drop them, I can at the very least pick them up for you.”

“But I dropped them on your foot, and judging by the way you shouted, it sounded like it hurt,” he countered. “And, well, they’re my books. Makes me responsible for them.”

You watched him curiously as he finished with a shrug, wondering why he was so adamant to argue with you instead of just accepting your help. Eyes falling down to the very large texts he’d dropped on your foot, you skimmed the titles of them–and then immediately laughed. His head tilted curiously to the side in response.

“I’m missing something, what’s so funny?” he asked.

You gestured a hand at the texts on the ground by your feet. “Law student,” you said.

“Yes?” he replied, eyebrows rising above his glasses.

“No, I mean, it makes sense,” you explained, focusing back on his handsome face. “Why you’re arguing with me about something so ridiculous. You’re a law student.”

The corners of his lips twitched upwards at your words. “Are you implying I enjoy arguing, miss…?”

You bit your lip, hesitating for a brief moment before you offered him your name. And then you nodded. “Yes,” you told him. “I am in fact implying that, because you’re doing it again. Looking for something to dispute.”

He went quiet for a moment, his head still tilted a little to the side. Your eyes took the opportunity of his silence to take in the sight of him before you, studying the boyish grin still on his lips and appreciating what you could see of his face. Gaze dropping down, you noticed the way his dark tee-shirt fit his chest, displaying more muscle than you’d have expected on a law student. He clearly spent some time at the gym. You’d also noticed the cane in his hand and deduced immediately that he was blind and therefore thankfully couldn’t see you checking him out.

His hand reached out in the space between the pair of you, drawing you from your ogling of him. You curiously glanced back up to his smiling face.

“I’m Matthew,” he said. “But I go by Matt.”

Your own hand quickly darted forward, shaking his offered hand. The brief contact of his warm hand wrapped around yours caused your heart to hammer wildly in your chest, something nervous flitting around in your stomach. And then you quickly drew your hand back, too afraid to accidentally hold onto his for too long and have him thinking you were strange.

“Tell you what, if you tell me your major, I’ll let you pick up the books,” he suggested.

His offer caught you off guard and you laughed, shaking your head. “Oh you’ll let me pick up your books, huh? The ones that nearly broke my toe?” you teased back.

He flashed you a broad smile, the brightness of it lighting up his handsome face. Your mind momentarily went blank at the sight before you found yourself suddenly blurting out your major and then picking up his scattered textbooks from the floor.

°•°•°•°•°•°

Eyes still focused on your laptop screen, you lowered the almost empty bottle of beer sightlessly back down to the floor beside Foggy’s bed. You spent a moment typing a few things up for your assignment, but your hands came to a stop over the keyboard the moment you heard noise just outside of the door.

Your heart sunk to your stomach when your ears registered the giggling mixed with the sound of Matt's deep, rumbling voice on the other side of it. Foggy glanced up from his notes, his attention drawn to the sound, too, before you saw his attention shift down to you on the bed beside him. He took one look at your face and was shooting you an apologetic smile, his mouth opening as he was about to say something.

But then Matt and a pretty blonde came barging in through the door of their dorm and Foggy's mouth instantly closed.

"Oh, sorry, were we interrupting?" the blonde asked, eyeing you and Foggy.

"We were just studying," you told her, voice strained.

Her nose scrunched up as if the thought of homework on a Saturday night was just that repulsive. You bit your tongue as she wrapped her arms around Matt’s waist, drawing herself into his side. Something painful and sharp coiled in your stomach as you watched him smile and drape his arm around her shoulders in return, his own brows creased at your words.

"Really?" he asked. “That’s all you’re doing?”

"Uh, yeah dude," Foggy stated matter-of-factly. "We usually study every Saturday night. You know that."

The blonde laughed, turning and burying her face against Matt's broad chest. Jealousy flared like a fire in your veins–scalding hot and all-consuming. In the six months you'd known Matt, you'd watched him go on dates with a handful of different women. All of them beautiful. And you were always left wondering why you'd never been good enough to be asked on a date by him.

"Right, yeah," Matt said, flashing you both a smile. "I just forgot my scarf."

Your eyes watched as he felt along his nightstand, grabbing his dark scarf off of it. The young woman stood on her toes, resting her chin on Matt’s shoulder. Your heart ached at the scene unfolding before you.

"You know, my roommate is out," the blonde said to Matt, her tone suggestive and not quite quiet enough for you to have missed.

Your eyes snapped down to your laptop's screen instantly, trying hard to ignore that nauseous feeling churning in your gut as you bit down harder on your tongue. There was only one reason they'd be going back to her dorm with her roommate gone. You weren't stupid.

It's not like you didn't know that's what Matt was doing with all these young women he’d been going out with, but you usually didn't have to witness his conversations about it. You didn’t need to look up from your laptop’s screen to know what he was reaching for in the top drawer of his nightstand now, the blonde once again giggling from her place wrapped around him.

Gritting your teeth together, you fought hard to keep the burn of tears at bay. You would not cry over this. He was just your friend. He wasn't yours. He could sleep around if he wanted to. It’s not even like he was being an asshole about it–these women wanted it. And honestly, you couldn’t blame them. You had often wondered what it would be like to have sex with Matt. Or to even just be wanted by him, even for a moment.

You tried to focus on your homework, desperately attempting to ignore the thunderous pounding of your heart in your chest and the way Foggy was staring at you from the corner of your eye. You would not let this make you cry. Because it was just a stupid, silly little crush on your friend. That’s all it was. And it would eventually pass with time and you’d laugh about it someday with Matt, joking about how absurd it was to have ever thought the two of you could have feelings for each other.

“Enjoy your studying ,” the blonde said, her voice cutting through your thoughts.

You glanced up, watching as she sent you and Foggy a wave before leading the pair of them towards the door. Matt was laughing lightly, wrapped around the back of her with his cane folded up in one hand and the unmistakable gold foil of a couple of condoms hanging out of his back pant’s pocket.

You laid frozen on the bed, your heart further sinking to your stomach as your eyes lingered on their retreating forms. Eventually the door closed behind them, a loud giggle erupting before all you could hear was Foggy’s laptop still blaring Foo Fighter’s “Best of You” and feeling like you were being mocked by the universe itself.

Foggy’s hand on your shoulder caused you to jump on the bed, startling you out of your trance. Head whipping in his direction, you glanced up at him with raised brows. His own were drawn tight and low on his forehead, a deep frown set onto his lips.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

“Yeah, of course,” you instantly answered. “I’m fine, Fog. I told you, I don’t like Matt.”

His hand squeezed your shoulder gently as he whispered your name. “Then why are you crying?” he asked.

Right hand darting up, you wiped the back of it against your cheek. Unexpected dampness hit the back of your hand and you swallowed hard. Clearing your throat, you forced a smile back onto your face and turned your attention back to Foggy.

“I’ve just been staring at this screen for too long,” you lied. “Eye strain, you know? It’s a bitch.”

You pushed yourself up into a sitting position, turning and bending over to grab your beer from the worn wood floor. As you brought it to your lips to finish off, you heard Foggy saying your name softly again behind you. Swallowing down the beer you rose up to your feet, that forced smile still on your face.

“I’m grabbing another, you want a new one?” you asked, gesturing at his beer.

“Come on,” Foggy said seriously, glancing down at his laptop long enough to lower the volume of his music. “Don’t lie to me here. I’ve known you for months now. Everytime Matt is with some other chick you have this look on your face like someone punched you in the gut and then poured gasoline over your expensive programming laptop. I’m not blind like Matt, I see the way you look at him.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you muttered.

You made your way to the mini fridge across the room, tossing your empty beer bottle in the recycling bin the guys had next to it. Opening the door, you bent down and pulled out another beer from the case you’d brought over. Rising back up to your feet, you grabbed the bottle opener from the top of the fridge, popping the bottle cap off. As you took a pull, you turned back around and saw Foggy sitting on his bed staring at you very seriously, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Can you just be real with me for a minute here?” he asked.

You rolled your eyes, taking a step away from the fridge to lean up against the wall. “Fog, we’re just friends. Matt is my friend,” you stressed.

“But you like him as more than that, don’t you?” he pushed.

You ground your teeth together, your hand tightening along the bottle of beer as Foggy continued to press forward with his questions. That angry, jealous monster in your gut was thrashing inside of you, begging to be let out, but you tried to shove it down.

“He’s my friend,” you said sharply.

“Then why does it make you cry when he goes off to have sex with other chicks?” he pressed.

“I told you, I wasn’t crying it was–”

“Don’t lie to me,” Foggy cut you off, shaking his head.

“Fine!” you snapped, pushing off of the wall and crossing the room towards Foggy. “I like him, okay? I’ve liked him since I ran into him at the library and he shot that stupid fucking charming smile of his at me! But he only sees me as a friend, so it’s fucking pointless!”

Foggy’s face fell, his eyes softening as he stared back at you. You threw a hand out, shaking a finger at him.

“No, uh uh, don’t look at me like that, Fog,” you said firmly.

“Why don’t you say something to him?” he asked. “Tell him you like him?”

Your hand flew up, two fingers pinching the bridge of your nose as your eyes fixed upwards on the ceiling, fighting back tears. You really didn’t want to cry over Matt. Not tonight. Not again.

“Because he clearly only likes me as a friend,” you answered.

“You don’t know that!” Foggy exclaimed. “You’ve never told him how you feel!”

“Fog,” you began, pinching the bridge of your nose even harder, “I see you guys basically every day. It’s been like that for almost six months now. If Matt was interested, he’d have asked me out by now. But he hasn’t because apparently I’m not good enough for Matthew Murdock to ever–ever want.”

You couldn’t help the way your voice cracked on the last word, your eyes snapping shut as the warm flood of tears slowly snuck out of your eyes. There was a creak of the bed before you felt Foggy pulling you into a hug, tears streaming down your cheeks as you tentatively wrapped your arms back around Foggy.

“That’s not true and you know it,” Foggy whispered. “You’re vastly smarter and funnier and sweeter than all of those other girls he brings back combined. You’re a damn catch, inside and out, and I’m sure Matt sees it.”

“No,” you disagreed, shaking your head as a loud sniffle left you. “He obviously doesn’t feel that way. That’s why I’m just his friend , Fog. Nothing more. But I don’t–don’t want to talk about this anymore, okay?”

You pulled away from Foggy, wiping the back of your hand across your cheeks. Foggy had a sad smile once again on his face as he let out a little sigh, nodding his head.

“Okay, so what do you want to do tonight?” he asked.

You shot him a look, gesturing your beer at your laptop. “Have you suddenly suffered from amnesia? We’re working on homework.”

Foggy pulled a face, waving a hand at the open laptops behind him. “Fuck homework, let’s have some fun,” he said, a grin quickly appearing on his face. “You want to go to the bar? I can break out my awesome dance moves.”

You couldn’t fight the smile drawing its way onto your face as Foggy flailed his arms and shook his hips not very in sync with the song playing from his laptop. He abruptly stopped, his eyes widening as he gasped.

“Oh! Or we can get some late night noms!” he exclaimed. “You want tacos? I would kill for some tacos.”

“Okay, yes,” you grudgingly agreed. “Tacos sound like heaven right now and I really don’t want to work on homework anymore.”

“Yes!” Foggy exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air dramatically. “Finishing all of that can be a tomorrow us problem, but tonight–we feast!”

You laughed, shaking your head as you brought your beer to your lips. “Okay,” you agreed, “but let me finish this beer and save my work.” You took a long pull off of the bottle as you made your way around the bed towards your laptop. “And for the record,” you added, “I don’t think we can afford to feast, Fog.” You gestured your beer between the pair of you. “Broke college kids, remember?”

“You know what?” Foggy said, focused on turning off his music and closing out of his open tabs. “When Matt and I are rich lawyers and you’re a rich programmer, we’ll have a night feasting on tacos in honor of our college selves.”

A sharp pain hit you in the chest at the mention of Matt, but you kept the smile on your face as you finished turning off your laptop. You really didn’t want to think about him right now. Especially not with what he was doing.

“Sounds like a plan,” you agreed.

Bringing your beer to your lips, you chugged the last half of it down, hoping to drown and dull that lingering ache in your chest. When you’d finished, you pulled the bottle from your lips and shot Foggy a strained smile, one he didn’t quite seem to catch the pain in.

“Let’s go get some tacos, Fog.”

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock fic #ethereal writes #etherealficrecs

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theetherealbloom · 1 year ago

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I KNEW IT. JOB OFFER. IN LA?!? SHE HULK EPISODE?? IS THIS WHERE WE ARE HEADED ?!?! I MIGHT JUMP OFF A BRIDGE AT THIS POINT CUZ DEAR LORD.

Slay, the reader deserves the amazing pay after all the shit she’s gone through. BUT I’M GONNA CRYYYYY I SAID NOT FOR HER TO RUN AWAYYY MFFFFF DONT RUNAWAYYYYY. THE AVOIDANCE DOESN’T WORKKK TRUST MEEEE 😭

All These Years [Part 12: "Considering the Offer"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

[You can find the full series summary and masterlist of installments for All These Years here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut

Word Count: 3.5k

a/n: Another painful installment that is about to bring us to what I consider to be the worst angst of this whole series next. This one certainly hurts, though. Feedback is always appreciated--and so are theories about what happens next even if my lips are sealed!

Tag list: @acharliecoxedfan @theetherealbloom @rotscinema @magnumstyles @roseallisonparker @ofmusesandsecrets @readerhead @paracosmic-murdock @v4leoftears @why-always-me-gosh-please @redbircl @keepingitlokiii @yarrystyleeza @mattkinsella @ms-murdockswift @margoo0 @1988-fiend @lockleywife @strangeobsessed @justalittlebitbored @am-3-thyst @buckybarnes-1917 @thora-jane @lionalsowrites @cloudroomblog @prince-tassel @danzer8705 @yourlocalbentspine @harperdoodle @hollandorks

“Look at us!” Foggy exclaimed, raising his beer bottle high up in the air, clearly still wound up from the win in court earlier today as his eyes scanned over everyone around the table. “All of us together again tonight! How often does that happen?”

“Well, not all of us,” Karen pointed out, nudging you beside her with her elbow. “We are missing Adam tonight.”

Foggy held up a hand, shooting you an apologetic smile as he shook his head. Internally you cringed, your heart aching at the mention of Adam, but you bit your tongue and kept your mouth shut. You weren’t about to correct anyone, not tonight. Especially when you weren’t prepared to come up with a partial truth as to why he actually wasn't here, because you needed some reason that would make it past Matt’s human lie detector abilities that you always kept in mind if you were to tell them the truth. And currently you weren’t in the mood to think of one.

“You’re right, Karen, I’m sorry. We aren’t all fully together tonight,” Foggy amended. “We are, unfortunately, one person short this evening.”

“Though you did manage to wrangle me back to Josie’s,” Marci said, her arm still wrapped around Foggy’s waist. “And how you managed that again remains a mystery.”

Marci’s eyes dropped down to her glass, openly studying it with distaste. She’d often made it clear she wasn’t a fan of coming out to Josie’s, preferring that you would all someday make your ritual hangout place at a nicer bar.

“At least this time I wasn’t the one who was unavailable,” Erica said, her slender arm casually draped over Matt’s shoulder.

Inevitably her voice drew your gaze all the way across the table. Her attention was focused on Matt, a smile crossing her pretty face. A sharp pang of jealousy struck you like a white hot fire in your veins when you saw Matt turn his focus on the beautiful dark blonde sitting beside him, a large smile forming on his own lips underneath his glasses as he leaned in towards her.

“You’re right, for once I got you out of the office and all to myself,” he playfully teased. “Which certainly doesn’t happen often enough.”

He leaned in to place a lingering kiss on her cheek and your eyes quickly dropped down to your beer before you, your fingers running along the condensation of the bottle. You did your best to try to ignore the sound of Erica’s giggle and the feel of your erratically beating heart at what was happening across the table. Pressing your lips firmly together, you fought hard to keep them from visibly trembling. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Karen was looking at you, but you tried your best to ignore that, too.

It had been a little over four months now since you’d learned Matt wasn’t dead, having found out when you’d seen him sitting and having a drink with your friends at Father Lantom’s wake. It was only a couple of months after that when Marci–who’d begun dating Foggy recently–had introduced Matt to one of the lawyers at her firm. Erica Kaminski. And he’d quickly grown fond of her real fast.

You'd met her a few weeks after you'd heard Matt first talking about her. She was apparently an impressive defense attorney herself, one who was incredibly busy and very focused and passionate about her work. She was sweet, too. Nice. Which made it absolutely impossible to hate her despite how beautiful, confident, charismatic, and successful she was. She was practically Matt's perfect match, even if she wasn't necessarily as crazy about taking on pro bono cases like he was.

They looked perfect together, too, with his dark hair, handsome face, and the strong build not very well hidden underneath his suits next to her lithe and leggy form and her model-like face and perfect hair. They looked like some sort of power couple and it physically pained you to see them together whenever you did. Especially whenever you saw Matt leaning over to give her sweet kisses to the cheek or the forehead–even worse when you had to witness a passionate kiss on the lips. Every single time it always felt like your heart was further withering inside of your chest, gradually shriveling up into a goddamn raisin.

She didn’t know about Matt’s alter ego, though. Nor did she know about his heightened senses. And Matt had made it very clear that none of you were to say anything about it to her. You’d understood why at first, but as the weeks wore on and Matt seemed further smitten with this woman, you’d started to wonder how things were going to continue on if he didn’t tell her the truth. How could he have a relationship with someone if they didn’t really know who he was? How could he know she really wanted to be with him– all of him–if she didn’t know there was more that he wasn’t telling her? You’d kept your mouth shut about it, but you’d always bitterly thought he was making the wrong decision by planning to keep her in the dark. Not that you felt she needed to know everything after only two and a half months, but with the way these two seemed to be going–at least with how Matt talked about her–you had a feeling she’d be reaching a point where she deserved to know the truth. And Matt deserved to be with someone who loved that other side of him, too.

Though admittedly, you felt like Matt was far more into Erica than she was into him. Not necessarily in a bad way on her part, but you often got the she’s-very-married-to-her-career sort of vibe from her. She was often unavailable to make plans with Matt, usually too focused on something with work. Sometimes work would even call her away when she’d been out–even if she was on a date with Matt. Whereas Matt had latched onto Erica like he’d had back at Columbia when he’d met Elektra. It almost seemed like some level of an unhealthy co-dependency he’d formed with her that you couldn’t quite make sense of, though of course you would never ask him about it. You figured it had something to do with whatever had happened to him after Midland, but he always seemed so happy with her that you’d tried to ignore it.

But as you spotted them kissing across the table out of your peripheral, you felt like you were about to be sick. As if she noticed exactly what was going on, Karen leaned over towards you.

“Want to grab another drink with me?” she asked.

You nodded, lips still firmly pressed together as you instantly pushed your chair back. Sliding off of it, you maneuvered around Foggy and Marci before making a straight line for the bar counter, your eyes locked on Josie pouring out a beer behind it.

“Something’s going on with you,” Karen pointed out as she fell in step beside you. “It’s written all over your face.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered.

Karen snorted, shaking her head. “Okay, I may not be Matt, but even I know that’s a lie,” she shot back.

You sighed as the pair of you reached the counter, leaning forward to rest your elbows up onto it. Turning, you glanced at Karen’s inquisitive and concerned face beside you. One of her brows rose onto her forehead in a silent question. Your eyes slowly slid back to the table your friends were at, a frown slipping onto your face as you spotted Foggy and Matt both focused on their girlfriends. Really, though, the nauseous feeling in your stomach was due to the intense focus Matt had on Erica and the hand he had on her knee as he was talking to her. Biting your tongue, your focus returned to Karen.

“Are we still grabbing brunch tomorrow?” you asked her.

She nodded quickly. “Yeah, I was planning on it,” she answered. “Why?”

“I’ll tell you everything then,” you told her, your focus shifting on Josie as she made her way towards the pair of you. “When it’s just us.”

°•°•°•°•°•°

The waitress placed the plate of eggs benedict in front of you and you thanked her softly as she did. The food looked good–as it always did here–but admittedly your stomach was churning a little at the conversation you knew you were about to continue. Eyes glancing back up, you saw Karen across the booth from you still staring at you unblinkingly, her mind clearly still on the conversation that had been interrupted just now. When the waitress placed Karen’s food in front of her, Karen muttered a ‘thank you’ quickly, but her gaze never left you.

“Is there anything else I can get for you two?” the chipper waitress asked, her focus darting between you and Karen.

“I think we’re good,” you answered, shooting her a tense smile. “Thank you.”

She nodded before turning and heading off to a nearby table. Karen immediately leaned forward across the table towards you, her blue eyes intense as she ignored the steaming plate now between where her elbows rested on the table.

“Okay, let’s back up and go back to where we were,” she said. “You were offered a new position?”

“Yeah,” you said, picking up your mimosa. You felt like one was not going to be enough for this conversation. “My boss has loved my initiative ever since…well, you know.”

Karen’s face fell immediately, a frown pulling at her lips. “I’m sorry about that,” she apologized, her eyes softening from the piercing stare she’d had for the past few minutes. “I really am, we shouldn’t have–”

You waved a hand, cutting her off as you clutched your mimosa tighter in the other. “Hey, it’s over, right? What’s done is done. None of you can take it back and you and Foggy have apologized like a thousand times already. And Matt probably ten times as much,” you muttered, drawing the glass to your mouth for a drink. Swallowing the cold liquid down, you added, “It is what it is at this point. I know why you all did it, but that doesn’t make it hurt less when I think about it.”

Across the table, Karen sat back in the booth. A look of guilt had taken residence on her face and you felt bad, but you weren’t about to console her for what had happened. Because admittedly that image of the three of them in Nelson’s jovially chatting when you walked in still plagued your mind some nights. As did the image of Matt and Erica kissing.

“But yes, my company has been doing well this past year and they’ve been focused on expanding,” you continued, bringing the conversation back around. “My boss has been loving my dedication to my work and the things I’ve been producing for the company, so he wanted to offer me the new position opening up first.”

“What’s it include?” she asked carefully.

“A massive pay increase,” you told her. “Like...almost double my salary now.”

Karen’s eyes grew wide across the table, her jaw dropping. “Are you fucking serious?” she breathed out. “You already make a good living–and they would almost double that?”

You nodded, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. Karen’s eyes immediately caught the movement and they instantly narrowed at you.

“What else does it include?” she asked.

“Well, like I said,” you continued a little nervously, “my company is expanding. Outside of New York City.”

You saw the moment realization dawned and her face fell across from you, her shoulders dropping at the information. “How far outside of New York City?” she asked.

Biting your lip, your focus dropped down to your plate of untouched food. Nervously your fingers fidgeted with the fork on the table. Karen was the first of your friend group you were telling all of this to.

“Los Angeles,” you told her.

You winced at the sharp intake of breath across the table, your eyes slowly making their way back up to her face. One of her hands had flown up, covering up half the look of shock now present there. Your stomach felt like it dropped to the floor, your appetite quickly leaving you.

“So you’re leaving?” she whispered.

You shrugged a shoulder lightly in response. “I mean, I haven’t accepted anything,” you replied. “They offered me the position two weeks ago. They aren’t exactly in a rush right now for an answer because they’re still getting the new office together out there. But they really want me for this position. I’m pretty sure my boss is prepared to beg.”

“That’s–that’s incredible,” Karen said, a sad smile on her face as her hand fell back to her lap. “Really, that’s amazing.”

“Thanks,” you muttered.

“So–so what’re you thinking, then?” she asked. “I imagine you’ve been thinking about it for a bit now.”

“I–I’m considering it,” you confessed, heart hammering in your chest as you did. “Really considering it, actually. That’s a lot of money. I’ve never been that far west, either.”

“What about Adam?” Karen immediately asked. “What’s he say about all of this?”

Taking a deep breath, you sat back in the booth now, entirely ignoring your plate of food. Exhaling roughly, you prepared to drop another bomb on Karen.

“We broke up,” you told her.

“ What ?” she asked in disbelief. “Why? When? You two were doing amazing, what happened?”

Your eyes dropped down to your lap. Nervously you were wringing your hands together, your chest feeling tight.

“Almost two weeks ago,” you answered. “Shortly after I got the offer. I was thinking about it for a few days, mulling it over, you know? And I knew I needed to tell him about it because it’s not like I could just make a big decision like that on my own. But he–he really didn’t want to leave New York. His family is here and he loves where he works.” You paused, your eyes still unable to meet Karen’s. “He asked me to stay here with him. Wanted me to move in. Talked about…wanting more with me.”

Karen once again sucked in an audible breath across the table. Your fingers only fidgeted faster in your lap at the sound.

“He wanted to marry you?” Karen asked.

Swallowing hard, you nodded. The far too familiar sting of tears were in your eyes again and you fought to blink them back.

“I liked Adam a lot,” you admitted, your focus finally returning to Karen. “I really did. He’s an amazing man, really. And I–I tried to love him.” You sniffled, trying to fight down the emotion you felt rising inside of you. “I really, really tried with him. For a long time in the beginning when I was with him, I didn’t think about Matt. And it was nice. But then Matt he–he met Erica a couple of months ago and hearing him talk about her, seeing them together–”

You broke off, your eyes closing as a few tears fell down your cheeks. Shaking your head, you tried to continue.

“It made me realize I still love Matt,” you admitted. “After all of this time, no matter what I do or what he does, I can’t seem to stop loving him. And I’d been feeling that for a couple of months now but I just–just kept trying to push it down. But when I was offered this position and I needed to talk to Adam and he wanted those things with me…I realized it wasn’t him. He’s not the one I wanted those things with.”

Karen said your name softly, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

“And then I–I remembered what you said,” you continued, a few more tears running down your cheeks as you spoke. “Last year. About moving away and I–” the words felt like they were getting stuck in your throat as you tried to force them out, “–I think you were onto something. Because I can’t live like this, Karen.”

A few tears fell down her own cheeks as she listened to you, one of her hands darting up to wipe them away. Shaking your head roughly, you continued on.

“I can’t stay here being in love with someone who will never love me back,” you told her. “I can’t continue to watch him with Erica anymore. Every time they kiss I feel like my heart is being torn to shreds. I just can’t do it anymore. And seeing him with her made me realize that if–if he were to propose to someone, I think it would kill me. So I…think I need to leave before that happens.”

Across the table, Karen inhaled a shaky breath. A few more tears slipped out of her eyes and you watched as she tried to blink them back, her focus shifting to the window beside the two of you.

“It sounds like you’re already decided then,” Karen said softly.

Pressing your lips together, you nodded. “I think so,” you admitted. “My heart is begging me not to go, I can feel it, but my head is telling me to get out. It’s been years of this pining and it’s–it’s keeping me from really being happy, you know? It’s not right to be this in love with someone who doesn’t feel the same way. And this incredible opportunity just fell into my lap and I–I think I should take it.”

“Does Foggy know?” she asked, her attention returning to you. “Judging by how happy he was last night, I’m guessing he doesn’t.”

You shook your head slowly. “No,” you told her. “So far I’ve only told you. I knew you’d be upset but…I know Foggy is going to have a hard time with this.”

Karen huffed out a humorless laugh, nodding as she wiped away a few tears on her cheeks. “Yeah, he’s definitely not going to handle this news too well,” she agreed.

“I might not tell him quite yet,” you admitted with a wince. “So if you could just keep this between us for now, I’d appreciate it.”

Instantly her eyes narrowed back at you. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat under her piercing gaze.

“I plan to tell him when I’ve gotten things more finalized,” you assured her. “You know, once I’ve accepted the offer officially and am actually looking at apartments out there. There’s no need to upset Foggy too soon in case something falls through. I just…don’t want to say something unless I know it’s for sure happening. But I needed to talk to someone about it.”

Karen’s expression softened as she offered you another sad smile, nodding as she did. “I understand,” she said. “So I’m guessing you’re going to tell Matt at the same time as Foggy then?” she asked.

Heart twisting in your chest at her question, you felt that all too familiar hollow ache gnawing at you. You honestly didn’t know how you were going to tell Matt this news, let alone actually say goodbye to him. It wasn’t something you wanted to think about because it hurt too much.

“Probably not at the same time, no,” you whispered, eyes dropping down to your still untouched plate of food. “He's been so happy lately with Erica. Happier than I've seen him in awhile. I don’t want to ruin that for him. And I don’t–don’t know how I’m going to tell him, either. He deserves to know at some point but I–I don’t even know how I’ll have the strength to tell him I’m leaving. To actually say goodbye to him.”

The tears were welling up again in your eyes and you fought hard to blink them back down. The thought of permanently saying goodbye to Matt felt like a small death in itself. Like you’d be leaving your heart in New York and dragging a shell of yourself across the country to L.A.

But what other choice did you have? Did you really want to stay here and watch him fall in love with Erica? And if it wasn’t her, surely it would be someone else. Could you really just sit there and watch it happen? Watch him tell some other woman that wasn’t you that he loved her? Hear that he’d gotten engaged? Attend his goddamn wedding and be forced to watch him join his life to someone else's forever in front of your very eyes?

You knew the answer was no. You could never do that. What you’d said to Karen was the truth–watching Matt marry someone else would absolutely kill you. With how long you’d spent wanting him– loving him–there was no way you could watch him make a life with someone else. No way that you could pretend he was only your best friend.

Leaving New York was the only option left that you hadn’t tried yet.

“I’ll tell him eventually,” you promised, both to Karen and yourself, “but not yet. I–I can’t talk to Matt about this just yet.”

°•°•°•°•°•°°•°•°•°•°•°

[END NOTES]

I'm sharing end notes again on this series because I feel like y'all need it. Especially because I literally wrote this one up really fast today and hope everything came across!

So Matt is dating Erica and seems quite into her. And Reader has once again ended things with Adam despite how good things were going with him because she's still in love with Matt. All it took was her seeing him so crazy about someone else for her to realize she still has feelings for him. But that little seed of thought Karen planted awhile back never truly went away and now Reader is being offered an amazing new position in L.A. in the coming months that she's planning to accept. Which means bye bye Hell's Kitchen, hello California. And in turn, bye bye Matty.

So what happens next? Because Matt is about to learn VERY soon who Reader has really been in love with...but will she stay or will she go?

The next installment is titled "Breaking the News" and I do have a title for the one following, but I think I'll hold onto that until y'all get the next installment. Because I want to keep you guessing where this is going. I'm cruel like that 🙃

#matt murdock x reader #ethereal fic reviews #etherealficrecs

423 notes · View notes

theetherealbloom · 1 year ago

Text

PLEASE. PLEASEEEE. C’MON. MATT YOU HAVE A LAW DEGREE FROM COLUMBIA. YOU ARENT THAT DUMB— I THINK HE KNOWWWWWSSS???

I hope Matt gives in and just asks her. JUST ASK.

Rip. I’d have the same reaction if Karen told me that they dated. :(( I need to drink so much water to replenish my tears. 😭

For the love of everything gOod, if the reader runs away I’m gonna cRy. SO CLOSE. YET ITS NOT ENOUGH. YA’LL KEEP LOVING EACH OTHER FROM A DISTANCE. I’M SO AHHHHHH

All These Years [Part 8: "Planting a Seed of Thought"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

[You can find the full series summary and masterlist of installments for All These Years here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut

Word Count: 6.6k

a/n: I basically wrote this long ass monster today and NEEDED to get it up. So I hope it is edited enough and none of the writing is too awkward. Normally I edit vastly more before I share but I was too excited. Feedback is always appreciated!

Making your way down the dimly lit hallway, your eyes were focused on the door at the far end. 'Nelson & Murdock' was no longer a paper sign taped to the door with their name written in Sharpie, but a proper, professional sign adhered to the glass of it.

After a lot of hard work and frustration over the past few months, Foggy and Matt’s law firm had really managed to take off. It had all been thanks to the pair of them–along with Karen and apparently the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen–taking down Wilson Fisk. You'd watched for months on the sidelines as they struggled and many times almost lost hope that they'd ever succeed with getting Fisk arrested. You'd even endured the time fairly recently where the firm, and Matt and Foggy’s friendship, had briefly broken up.

Those few weeks had been a very difficult few weeks for all of you. Even Karen had gradually grown closer to you during that time. And both Foggy and Matt had fallen back on you for support when they didn't have each other. You'd done your best to split your free time between the pair of them, but you'd never gotten a straight answer as to what had happened. All you knew was that it must have been bad if Foggy had been willing to end the friendship you'd watch grow over the years. And all Matt would ever tell you was that it was his fault, whatever it was, and to not be mad at Foggy.

The whole thing had seemed strange to you, especially because Matt had just been in a car accident when everything had happened. Your heart had broken when he’d stopped by to see you shortly after; you hadn’t heard the news ahead of time and it was a shock to see him limp into your apartment. Though something had seemed off about his flippant explanation of what happened, especially considering he’d been sporting bruises and cuts more and more frequently this past year. He’d told you they were because he was blind and clumsy and had gotten into a lot of accidents, but you had a feeling that was bullshit even if you never pushed for answers. Because he’d certainly not had that many accidents at Columbia.

Yet again it hurt you that it felt like Matt was hiding something from you, something you were sure he’d have told you about back when you’d both been in college. You felt like he was drifting even further away from you. And that hurt.

As you came to a stop in front of the office, you knocked twice lightly on the glass of the door. Karen’s voice called out from behind it instantly, telling you to come in. You opened the door and stepped inside, immediately greeted with Karen’s bright smile from her place behind her desk.

“Hey! Was wondering when you were going to show up,” Karen greeted you as she set aside a folder on her desk.

“I had to finish a few things up at the office before I could actually get out of there,” you told her, making your way over and sitting down in one of the empty chairs in front of her desk. “My boss loves to chat so I was sort of stuck listening to him ramble on about this problem he’d encountered coding–but I won’t bore you with the details. Needless to say, it took me a moment before I could find a way to slip out of the conversation.”

“Well we’re glad you’re here!”

You turned at the voice, spotting Foggy making his way out of his office. He was fiddling with his tie as he came over towards the pair of you, a smile on his face.

“And I hope you’re prepared to fight with Matt about places for takeout,” Foggy added.

You laughed, adjusting your purse in your lap. “Fog, I’ve known you guys for a while. I already know how picky Matt is about exactly where we get food from.”

“Well he’s grown pickier since Columbia,” Foggy informed you.

"I'm not picky," Matt countered, appearing in the doorway of his office with a frown. "I just know what I like."

Your head turned in the opposite direction, taking in the sight of Matt leaning against the doorframe of his office. He was in a pair of dark dress slacks, his hands on his hips as he focused on Foggy. The sleeves of his white dress shirt were rolled up to just below his elbows, his thick and muscular forearms on display. He’d gotten new glasses recently you noticed–these ones had red lenses.

"Yeah, that's called picky," Foggy quipped.

The three of you laughed as a frown crossed Matt’s lips, an irritated huff escaping him. He was clearly not amused.

"Well I for one am curious to see that billboard at your apartment Foggy told me about," you said, trying to change the subject for him. "I still haven't seen your place and you’ve been there for a bit now."

"Oh, it's obnoxious alright," Karen assured you. When she saw the confused look you gave her she added on, "The billboard, not the apartment."

Something stirred in your chest at her words, a twisting, uncomfortable feeling. Matt was a private person and you knew he didn't let people into his space easily. He’d always been like that. You'd known Foggy had been to his apartment often after Matt had moved out–it was a given considering how close they were–but you hadn't known Karen had been there. Especially when you never had been invited in the almost year since he'd been living there.

"You've been to Matt's?" Foggy asked, rounding on Karen in surprise.

"Well, yeah," she answered. "Back when you guys took my case? The night the man in the mask saved me?"

You saw Foggy shoot Matt a quick look and you frowned, wondering what that had been about. But then Karen continued on and you weren't expecting what she said next.

"And we uh, did date,” Karen admitted, a blush rising to her cheeks. “Briefly.”

Foggy gasped beside you as your hands tightened on the straps of your purse. Your mouth felt like it had gone dry as you stiffened in the chair. Matt had dated Karen?

“When the hell did that happen?” Foggy exclaimed, his eyes darting back and forth between the pair of them. “How did I not even catch that?”

“It was a little bit ago,” Karen answered.

“For a couple weeks,” Matt added.

Fingernails digging into the faux leather of your purse, you fought the burn of tears in your eyes. He’d dated her? She’d been his friend–and his employee–yet he’d still asked her out? Slept with her? But yet you remained nothing but his friend, one that was steadily drifting away from him?

Would he really give everyone but you a second look?

“Realized we were just better as friends,” Karen said with a shrug.

Her attention landed on you over her desk and you saw the way her blue eyes narrowed curiously at your expression. Her sharp eyes lingered as if she had noticed the change in the way you were acting now since you’d come in. Swallowing hard, you forced a smile back onto your face before you rose from your seat. It was going to be difficult walking back to your place with Karen after this; you found yourself wishing you hadn’t planned that with her this morning. After learning that all you wanted to do was go home and stay there. Maybe cry alone on your couch. You didn’t want to make conversation with Karen right now, and you certainly didn’t want to go to Matt’s and have dinner with everyone.

What you wanted was to rip your heart out and stop feeling what you felt for Matt once and for all.

“I should probably get back to my place and change if I’m going to be on time later,” you said, voice quivering a bit.

Karen slowly pushed her chair back, rising to her feet and smoothing down her dress. Why did she have to be so beautiful? That only made everything hurt even more right now.

“I’ll come with, like we talked about earlier,” Karen announced.

“Great,” you said stiffly.

You made your way around the chair, your eyes avoiding Matt and Foggy. You knew Foggy was just standing there giving you his usual sympathetic look after the news Karen had just dropped. You really didn’t need to see that look on his face right now.

“I’ll see you guys later,” you said, eyes focusing on your feet.

You heard Karen’s heels clicking along after you on the floor, both of you making your way towards the exit as Karen said her goodbyes. But the pair of you stopped when Matt spoke up, saying your name. You froze at his voice, your head swiveling nervously towards him. He was still leaning against the doorframe to his office, his brows furrowed behind his dark glasses. His arms were crossed over his chest now as he focused on you.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

Swallowing hard, you wondered how the hell he’d even noticed something was off. It’s not like he could see the look on your face like Karen had. Once again you forced the strained smile back onto your lips as you looked back at him, hoping the smile would somehow show through in your voice.

“Yeah, I just had a rough day at work,” you lied.

Matt’s head tilted to the side at your words, his lips drawing into a thin line. Somehow his brows had dropped even lower behind his glasses, a deep crease forming on his forehead.

“I’ll see you later though, Matty,” you said in a rush.

Picking up your pace, you ducked your head and darted out of the office. Karen sped up behind you in a hurry to catch up.

°•°•°•°•°•°

The walk back to your place with Karen had been interesting to say the least. You’d practically power-walked the entire way back while she struggled to keep up with you. Every time she asked if you were okay, you only increased your pace. You didn’t want to talk about this with her because you swore she’d seen the look on your face back at the office and had already pieced things together. But when you’d finally gotten to your apartment and she’d followed you inside, you knew you wouldn’t be able to avoid her prying questions.

“You want to tell me what that was all about?” Karen asked as she closed the door behind herself.

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you slipped your dress flats off and set them on your shoe rack. You turned, making your way towards your bedroom as Karen followed after you.

“I just was in a hurry to get back and get changed,” you told her. “Didn’t want to get slowed by the usual evening foot traffic.”

You made your way over to your dresser, pulling a drawer open and grabbing out a pair of jeans. Karen stepped into your bedroom, crossing her arms over her chest and shooting you a pointed stare.

“Okay, let’s say I believe that bullshit,” Karen replied bluntly. “What was with that look back at the office?”

“What look?” you asked, feigning ignorance.

You tossed your jeans onto your bed and then made your way towards your closet, sliding the door open. Biting your bottom lip, you tried to focus on finding a shirt as Karen stepped further into your bedroom.

“The look back at the office,” she clarified. “When I’d said I’d been to Matt’s and that we’d– Oh .”

Breath catching in your throat, you stared even more intensely at your wardrobe hanging in your closet. She’d certainly figured it out now.

“You like Matt, don’t you?” she asked, her tone abruptly softening.

“We–we’ve been friends for a while, so yeah,” you answered, still refusing to look at her. “Obviously I like him.”

“No,” Karen said.

You heard her briskly closing the distance between the pair of you before you felt her hands reaching out, landing on your shoulders and turning you to face her. Chewing your lip even more nervously, you saw the realization in her wide blue eyes. And then seconds later–there it was. That same fucking look Foggy always gave you. It immediately drew tears to your eyes.

“Stop it, Karen,” you warned her.

“How did I not see it before?” she asked. “You like him. As more than a friend.”

“No,” you replied, your voice cracking on the word as you swiftly shook your head. “No, he’s just my best friend.”

“Oh shit, I didn’t know,” she said quickly. “I wouldn’t have–wouldn’t have gone on those dates with him if I’d known you liked him.”

“I–I don’t like him,” you said weakly.

Karen sent you a sad smile, her hands still gripping your shoulders. You felt a tear slip down your cheek and you abruptly wiped it away with the back of your hand.

“Don’t lie to me,” Karen replied. “You care about him a lot, don’t you?”

A loud sniffle fell out of you, your eyes dropping down to your bedroom floor. Crossing your arms over your chest, you tried to control the threat of tears. How many times had you already cried over Matt since you met him now?

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I’ve…been in love with him for years.”

Karen gasped audibly at your confession, her hands tightening on your shoulders. You sniffed again, blinking rapidly and trying to force the tears back down.

“And he doesn’t know?” she asked.

You shrugged lamely, still refusing to meet her eyes. “Foggy does, but I don’t know about Matt,” you answered. “I’ve never told him, but I’d flirted with him in the beginning. Or at least, I thought I had. I’m not really good at it,” you admitted. “Not with him, at least. But he’s never taken an interest in me. He goes out on so many dates, I’m sure if he actually liked me he’d have asked me out by now. I just–” you paused, fighting hard to keep your voice even, “–just have never been good enough for a second look from him. He’s always wanted everyone but me. And I’m just–just passed over.”

Karen said your name gently, trying hard to catch your eye. Slowly you looked up, meeting her eyes with your own.

“Maybe he just doesn’t know,” she told you.

Panic flooded you instantly, your eyes going wide at what you thought she was saying.

“I’m not going to tell him I’m in love with him!” you exclaimed. “And neither are you! That would kill our friendship in a second!”

“Well, you don’t exactly know that ,” Karen replied. “But okay, if you won’t just tell him, why not try to flirt instead?”

Mouth dropping open, you stared at Karen in complete shock. She wanted you to flirt with Matt? Not only did that sound ridiculous, you didn’t exactly know how to flirt with him. Because if he’d been unaware of your attempts before, he certainly still would be now.

“I can’t flirt, Karen,” you told her. “Not with him. My brain short-circuits if I try. And if he didn’t catch on before–if that’s even remotely the reason–he’s definitely not going to now.”

“I’ll help you flirt!” she said brightly. “He caught on when I flirted with him.”

Your face instantly fell at her words, your heart dropping to your stomach. You didn’t need a reminder of that right now.

Catching on to what she’d just said, her eyes went wide again as she quickly shook her head. “Oh shit, I’m sorry!” she exclaimed. “I didn’t mean it like that. But hey, for the record?” she continued in a rush. “Nothing happened between us. I mean, we kissed like twice but that was it. Nothing more than that, okay? We just didn’t work together. We both realized that.”

“Right,” you mumbled awkwardly.

“Look, he viewed me like a friend for a while, too,” Karen told you. “Until I started more openly flirting with him. Try to compliment him. Maybe touch his arm a few times or something–that’ll certainly catch his attention.”

“Or make him think I’m being absolutely weird,” you said. “I don’t compliment Matt unless we’re having heart to hearts. And I definitely don’t just touch his arm.”

“Well there you go!” she chirped. “He’ll pick up on something then tonight.”

“Wait,” you began, panic flooding you yet again. “You want me to flirt with him tonight ? Where you and Foggy can witness my terrible attempts?”

Karen shrugged a shoulder easily. “I don’t think they’ll be terrible attempts, but why wait? Do you want to risk losing your chance?” she countered.

Shoulders dropping, you realized she had a point. Matt often worked fast with finding a new fling or someone to take on a date. And it’s not like you saw him frequently enough to know you’d have another opportunity soon.

“Fine,” you relented with a sigh. “I’ll try to flirt with him tonight.”

“Great!” Karen replied, a wide smile spreading over her lips. “I’m excited to see how it goes!”

“That makes one of us,” you grumbled, focusing back on your closet.

°•°•°•°•°•°

Karen knocked on Matt’s apartment door as you stood next to her, trying hard to focus on your breathing. You felt like you were going to be sick with the way your nerves were fluttering in your stomach. You didn’t even think you’d be able to eat the meal you’d all be ordering tonight with the way it was churning and twisting. The thought of flirting with Matt had you wanting to turn back around and throw up in the elevator as more and more thoughts raced through your mind.

What if he didn’t catch on at all to what you were doing? Which seemed likely because you were terrible at flirting with him. You didn’t want to get your hopes up that he’d flirt back because you didn’t know what to expect–and you didn’t want to be let down.

Or what if he did catch on but you made him uncomfortable because you were supposed to just be his friend? Would it ruin the friendship entirely? And you’d just lose Matt forever? You didn’t even want to think about that.

But just as nerve wracking–what if he flirted back? Did it mean he liked you, too? What the hell happened after that? Did you ask him out?

By the time Matt finally opened his apartment door, you felt like you were inching closer and closer to a panic attack. It didn’t help that he looked handsome in a dark green tee-shirt and jeans. He’d left his glasses off, too, giving you a full view of his entire face. It had been awhile since you’d seen him without them on since he always wore them in public. And you hadn’t exactly been invited into Matt’s private space in such a long time yourself.

It hurt to remember that, too.

“Hey, Matt!” Karen greeted him brightly.

“Glad you made it, Karen,” Matt greeted her with a smile.

Trying to swallow down the lump in your throat, you opened your mouth to speak. “Hey, Matty,” you said, wincing at how odd your voice came out.

You saw Matt’s head tilt to the side, the corner of his lip briefly twitching. But then he greeted you with a smile and your name before inviting you both inside. Karen stepped inside first and you followed after her, but as you slipped past Matt where he was holding the door open, your arm almost brushed against his chest and you’d quickly darted away from him before you accidentally touched him, eyes wide and terrified.

Karen had been at the end of the entryway hall and saw the entire awkward moment. She shot you a stern look as Matt closed the door. You swore she mouthed the words ‘stop freaking out’ before you felt Matt bump into you from behind. Jumping in surprise, you nearly flew out of your skin as you backed into the wall. Matt’s head instantly spun towards you, a curious and confused look on his face.

“I’m sorry, didn’t realize you were standing there,” he said.

“No, it uh, it was my fault,” you said awkwardly. “Shouldn’t uh, shouldn’t just be standing in a hallway.”

Matt continued to stare at you for a long moment, his hazel eyes scanning questioningly around your face. Biting your cheek, you shot him a sheepish smile even though you knew he couldn’t see it.

“Are you sure you’re alright today?” he asked.

“Yeah, why?” you asked quickly.

“You seem…off,” he said slowly.

“Nope, no,” you replied quickly, shaking your head as Karen mouthed something to you behind Matt that you didn’t catch. “I’m definitely not off today, I’m certainly on.”

Even you cringed at how stupid you’d just sounded, watching as Karen’s eyes slowly closed. Flirting with Matt was a horrible idea. This wasn’t going to work out. You should probably stop before you even tried and ended up truly embarrassing yourself.

“Okay,” Matt said slowly, that unsure look on his face. “Well, Fog is already here so if you want to come in, we can figure out what to eat so we can place an order.”

Matt continued his way down the hall and you followed behind him, internally cursing yourself for how awkward you were becoming around him. It's like all those years you'd spent with him at Columbia had disappeared and you'd suddenly become a stupid, bumbling school girl with a crush.

The moment you entered the living room, you spotted Foggy sitting on one of the chairs facing the leather couch Matt had opposite his coffee table. Foggy’s gaze immediately locked onto you, his eyes going wide when he did. You watched as he slipped his phone out of his pocket, his fingers flying across it rapidly. Brows drawing together in confusion, your focus shifted to the large industrial windows to your right–and then your jaw dropped.

“Holy shit, you weren’t kidding about it being obnoxious,” you blurted.

“What?” Matt asked, pausing on his way to the kitchen.

“Sorry–the billboard,” you explained quickly. “The billboard is obnoxious. I wasn’t exactly expecting it to be so…”

“Obnoxious?” Matt supplied, a cheeky grin on his mouth.

You felt yourself flush as your attention shifted to him, cheeks burning partially from embarrassment and partially from how incredibly sexy he looked with that little grin on his mouth. Why couldn't he just become unattractive one of these days to make things easier on you?

“Yeah,” you mumbled.

In your pocket you felt your phone vibrate, the feel of it catching your attention. Frowning, you glanced down and slipped it out.

“You two want a beer?” Matt asked as he opened his fridge.

“Absolutely!” Karen called out from where she’d settled into the chair beside Foggy’s.

“Uh, yeah,” you replied, distracted by the text you’d received.

It was from Foggy, which had further confused you since he was sitting in the room with you. You didn’t understand why he’d texted you until you’d read what was written in the message.

6:37 PM Foggy: Dude, what are you doing???? You’re being so gd AWKWARD.

Biting your lip, you quickly typed up a response to Foggy and sent it.

6:38 PM: Karen knows. She told me I should flirt with him tonight. I’m TERRIFIED.

You shot Foggy a meaningful look as you made your way around the couch, aware that he and Karen had conveniently left you the spot where you’d have to sit beside Matt. And as you took your seat, you saw Matt making his way over with two beers in his hands. He handed one off to Karen when she alerted him to where she was sitting on one of the chairs, and you’d been about to acknowledge him until you saw Foggy reading your text and typing up a response again. It wasn’t until Matt turned towards the couch, saying your name in a form of question as he focused on the space just beside you, that you’d realized you’d forgotten to catch his attention.

“Sorry, I'm zoning out,” you apologized, reaching forward to accept the beer from Matt. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he replied.

Matt took a seat next to you, sitting closer to you than you’d anticipated, though you figured it was unintentional. It's not like he could see how close he'd sat. Across the coffee table, Karen raised her brows at you before her eyes darted pointedly over at Matt a few times. Ducking your head, you nervously drew the beer to your lips and downed a few sips.

What the hell were you even supposed to say? How were you supposed to flirt with him? Especially with her and Foggy watching you like this so closely. They were only making you even more uncomfortable and awkward. You were so close to just aborting the entire plan.

Your phone vibrated on your lap as it received Foggy’s next text, breaking through your nervous thoughts. Matt cleared his throat beside you on the couch almost immediately afterwards, the noise startling you as he shifted beside you. As he moved, he spread his legs further open and his knee almost bumped into yours. Your eyes were glued to that minute distance between both of your legs, wondering how weird it would be if you just brushed your leg against his.

“So, should we figure out dinner before we lose track of time?” Matt asked.

Drawn out of your thoughts, your attention shifted down to your phone. As the three of them began discussing food options, you opened your text from Foggy.

6:43 PM Foggy: OMG just tell him! Put us both out of our misery already and TELL HIM.

Glancing up from your phone, you caught Foggy’s eye. He sent you a very pointed look and you shook your head quickly. Out of your peripheral, you saw Matt’s head turn just a little in your direction as Karen was listing off options of nearby places that delivered. You panicked at that little movement, feeling almost like Matt knew something was going on.

But that was ridiculous. You were just being paranoid because you were freaking out about the prospect of flirting with him tonight. That was all.

Karen called your name across the room, catching your attention. Eyes darting up, you glanced over at her with brows raised.

"I'm sorry, what?" you asked.

She shot you an apologetic smile before she listed off the names of restaurants again. You were becoming increasingly aware of the way Matt was now focused directly on you as you listened to her. His sightless gaze was sending your heart into overdrive as he seemingly just stared at your chest. What the hell was he doing?

“So what sounds good to you?” Karen asked.

“Oh, uh–”

Movement across from you had you glancing back over at Foggy. For some reason he'd sat forward in his chair, some strange expression crossing his face as he watched Matt closely beside you. He seemed to snap out of it though when he saw you staring.

"Uh, why don't we just–just do one of the pizza places?" you asked Karen distractedly, brows now furrowing at Foggy. "We all like pizza, right?"

"I'm in," Foggy agreed quickly, nodding his head at Karen.

"I'm good with pizza," Karen said slowly, shooting Foggy a strange look before she focused on Matt. "What about you, Matt?"

You turned, looking at Matt where he sat beside you. His focus was still on your chest, his expression one of intense concentration. Nervous, you felt your palms beginning to sweat, your heart racing as that ever so familiar fight or flight sensation slowly began to kick in. If he didn’t stop doing that soon, you were probably going to bolt out of his apartment and run home. You were already terrified at the prospect of trying to find a way to work in touching his damn arm , you didn’t need him staring at you like that, too.

“Matt?” Karen asked again.

Matt startled on the couch, his head whipping in the direction of Karen’s voice.

“Hmm?” he asked her.

“Are you good with pizza?” she repeated.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” he answered. “Wherever is fine.”

Lips parting in surprise, you and Foggy instantly met each other’s eyes, the pair of you sharing a look. That was odd for Matt. He would have usually had more to say about food–what pizza place to pick depending on the day of the week, for starters. Which never made any goddamn sense to you or Foggy, but Matt was generally always adamant. His disinterest was…strange.

Karen abruptly rose out of the chair, her focus on her phone. “I’m going to step into the kitchen and order the pizza then,” she announced. “Foggy? You think you could help? I always have trouble with this app.”

Foggy’s head snapped over to Karen, a look of confusion on his face. He opened his mouth to question her, but Karen glanced up from her phone and shot him a purposeful look.

“Right, yeah, I can help,” Foggy said, rising swiftly from his chair. “They uh, they updated their app it’s–it’s a pain even for me to navigate now.”

He laughed, the sound awkward as he followed behind Karen over to the kitchen. That’s when it hit you that they’d intentionally left you alone on the couch. With Matt. Your focus instantly dropped down to your beer, your fingers nervously drumming along the bottle. Now was a good time to try flirting since you didn’t have an audience, but you felt like you’d suddenly lost your grasp on the English language.

“How’s work been?” Matt asked, turning a bit towards you on the couch.

“It’s been alright,” you answered a little shyly. “Busy. Stressful. How’s the law firm doing?”

“Good,” he replied. “Also busy and stressful.”

You looked up at him from beneath your lashes. He was smiling at you and you felt your heart nearly skip a beat at the sight. His head tilted to the side just a bit, the corners of his eyes twitching ever so faintly.

“How’ve you been doing?” he asked slowly.

Licking your lips nervously, you tried to think of how to turn this into something flirtatious before Karen and Foggy inevitably meandered back to the living room. “I’ve been good, but I–I do miss seeing you and Fog.”

Before you could overthink the gesture and convince yourself not to do it, your right hand darted out and landed on Matt’s shoulder. You felt him instantly tense under the contact and you didn’t know what to make of that. Had you startled him? Did he not like this? Had he realized you were making some sort of move on him and you’d made him uncomfortable?

“I miss spending time with you, too,” he admitted.

He was still tense beneath your touch and your mind was racing. Did you leave your hand there? Touch him somewhere else? Uproot and move to Mars?

Why was this so goddamn hard ?

Glancing over to the kitchen, you saw Karen and Foggy staring at you over Karen’s phone. Both of them had wide eyes as they gawked at the pair of you. Karen’s eyes aggressively gestured to Matt. You could practically hear her in your head telling you to compliment him.

“So how have–have you been?” you asked, your hand still resting on his shoulder. “Seems like you’ve been going to the gym more since Columbia.”

As the words left your mouth, you felt like your soul also left your body. Had you just complimented him on his muscles like that ? That was so incredibly not smooth. That was the furthest thing from a good compliment that you probably could have given him. You wished you could punch yourself in the face when you heard Matt’s amused chuckle in response. Internally you were screaming as your hand immediately recoiled from his shoulder.

“I suppose you could say that,” he answered. “Work has certainly been stressful and I’ve often needed an…outlet.”

“Right, yeah,” you said, shifting on the couch and intentionally sliding a bit away from Matt. “That makes sense.”

His head further canted to the side, the smile on his lips gradually falling away as he focused on you. You drew the beer to your lips, drinking more of it down as you glanced over the back of the couch. Foggy and Karen were staring at you like they’d just witnessed a horrific car accident. You sent them a look that was a clear cry for help as you lowered the beer from your lips. Thankfully they headed back out of the kitchen, saving you from further embarrassing yourself.

“Well the pizza should be about forty-five minutes,” Karen announced as she settled back in the seat.

“Great,” you replied.

The sooner you ate, the sooner you could leave. You did not think you could do this flirting thing much more tonight.

°•°•°•°•°•°

Karen and Foggy had opted to leave when you had announced your departure from Matt’s shortly after finishing dinner. The two of them were clearly desperate to walk part of the way home with you so they could bug you about how the night had gone, which was why you’d been surprised when Foggy had almost immediately locked Karen into a conversation about work as soon as you’d all left Matt’s place. He’d enthusiastically kept up the conversation for a couple of blocks before it had suddenly fizzled out. That’s when the pair of them broke you from your moping thoughts and focused on you.

“What even was that back there?” Foggy asked. “I’ve seen you be vastly more charming than that.”

“Yeah,” you shot back, “with guys that aren’t Matt I can be.”

“And what was that compliment?” Foggy continued. “Were you going to ask him how to get a discounted gym membership next?”

Your cheeks heated at his comment as you threw your hands over your face and groaned. “It was awful, I know!” you whined.

“All you had to do was say ‘Hey Matt, you’re looking real good lately’,” Foggy told you. “Literally, that’s it!”

“Fog, stop, you’re not helping,” Karen chastised.

Foggy rounded on Karen next. “Do you know how long I’ve watched her pine after Matt?” he asked her. “And now tonight she finally decides to try to flirt with him? I thought this was it! This was the night my two best friends got together and the pining would be over!”

Hands dropping to your sides, you focused on your feet as you continued to trudge along beside them. “Sorry to disappoint,” you told him. “But I think it’s safe to say Matt is not interested.”

“Why do you say that?” Karen asked curiously.

Your attention shifted to Karen next to you, your eyes meeting hers. “Because that back there?” you said flatly, gesturing a thumb over your shoulder. “That’s not how I usually act around Matt. That was more flirty than I’d even been when I’d first met him–which yes, is sad because that was an awful excuse for flirting back there. But if he didn’t respond to any of that tonight, then clearly he’s not interested.”

“She has a point,” Foggy said with a sigh on the other side of Karen. “She’s never been like that with him before. Not that I’ve seen at least. If Matt was picking up something from her and felt the same, he certainly wasn’t doing a good job reciprocating.” He leaned around Karen, shooting you that goddamn sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, but I think you’re right.”

“Not like I didn’t already know he only liked me as a friend,” you replied, tears stinging at your eyes. “I’ll just forever be the one woman in New York City Matt won’t date. Or even try to hook up with.” You felt a few warm tears slide down your cheeks, biting your tongue to fight back the sob threatening to fall out of you. “I’m just–just so tired of feeling like this,” you whispered. “Of crying over him. It’s been years of this. And I can’t–can’t make it stop.”

“Maybe…cut him out of your life?” Karen hesitantly suggested.

Your eyes widened as your gaze flew to hers beside you. “Just–just stop being his friend?” you asked in disbelief.

She shrugged a shoulder. “I mean, if it’s hurting you this much for that long, and it’s not going anywhere with him and you’re not getting over him with anyone else…maybe it’s something to consider?” she said gently.

“I don’t think I could ever stop being his friend,” you admitted, shaking your head. “Not while I’m in New York.”

“You know,” Karen continued, that hesitant tone back, “I really don’t want to suggest this, but if that’s the case…have you ever thought about leaving?”

Your feet faltered on the sidewalk, Foggy and Karen coming to a stop with you. Foggy was shaking his head at Karen vehemently, wagging a finger at her.

“No, you’re not suggesting she leaves Hell’s Kitchen,” Foggy told her. “She’s one of my best friends.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Karen agreed, tucking some blonde hair behind her ear as she focused on him. “I’d rather she never leave either. But I mean…do you like knowing that she’s hurting this much? For all of this time?” Karen’s blue eyes shifted back to you. “Are you even happy?” she asked.

You opened your mouth, about to answer, but the words wouldn’t come out. Because the answer was no, you weren’t. Not really. Sure, you liked your job. You had friends you enjoyed spending time with. And you really loved New York City–even Hell’s Kitchen had really come to grow on you since graduation.

But deep down you wanted Matt. It was a constant, neverending ache right in the center of your chest. All of the dates you’d ever gone on since meeting him had eventually failed before they could become anything more because no one else was Matt. They couldn’t compare. You couldn’t get him out of your head long enough to really see someone else. Even with Liam, one of the only relationships you’d had in years, you had been constantly comparing him to Matt. But you’d tried really hard to be happy with him, and yet ultimately that relationship had ended in disaster.

“I’m just saying,” Karen said softly, her eyes on you, “it’s an idea. If you’re really not happy, if it’s that difficult for you to move on past Matt, you could always leave New York. It’s not like you couldn’t come visit us, too. But I can see it on your face.” Her hand reached out, landing on your shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. “You’re hurting. And you really shouldn’t have to live like that.”

Wiping the back of your hands across your cheeks, you tried to wipe away your tears. With a sniffle you continued on again, both Karen and Foggy falling back in step with you on the sidewalk.

“It’s a thought, I suppose,” you muttered. “But I don’t really want to leave New York.”

“And you don’t have to,” Foggy assured you.

The chilly evening air bit at the tear tracks on your cheeks as the three of you neared the end of the block. It was the point in which you’d all soon part ways to head back to your own apartments. Beside you, Karen let out a deep sigh.

“It was merely a suggestion,” she stated. “That’s all.”

#etherealficrecs #etherealficreviews #etherealficrec

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theetherealbloom · 2 years ago

Text

I’M ABSOLUTELY IN LOVE WITH THIS SERIES AHHHH 😩🤍

That feeling of being the other point of view. Of always being second-best to everyone else. Him realizing he doesn’t know what he had until the Reader was gone for a bit. Matt picking up on her little white lies… aHHhhHhHhhHHH 🥲

You, sir, better GROVEL AND BEG FOR THE READER. I’M TALKIN’ EVERYDAY APOLOGY ONCE HE GETS HIS HEAD OUT OF HIS A—

Ahem. TYSM BELLA FOR BLESSING US WITH YOUR WRITING ILYSM 🤍☺️

All These Years [Part 4: "All the Broken Pieces"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut

Word Count: 4.4k

a/n: Our next update is finally here! This one features a very sad Matty and more pining. Hope you're enjoying the pain still because there's more to go! You can find the entire list of installments for this series here. Our next update will be "Graduation" I believe and it should be the end of our college pining days (but the start of more pining post-college).

Tag list: @theetherealbloom @acharliecoxedfan @rotscinema @magnumstyles @roseallisonparker @readerhead @paracosmic-murdock @v4leoftears @why-always-me-gosh-please @redbircl @keepingitlokiii @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets (for some reason tumblr isn't letting me tag you, friend!)

You were currently slumped over your laptop on your bed focused on your assignment. You’d wanted to get a headstart on it, grateful that for once your roommate was going to be at her boyfriend’s dorm for the entire night and not yours–a rare occurrence on a Saturday night. So rare you’d even canceled your Saturday night plans with Foggy for the first time ever earlier today because of it. Though he’d been understanding and almost excited because he’d later told you that he’d scored a date with Marci for the evening. You were happy for him, looking forward to grabbing coffee tomorrow morning to hear how the date had gone.

Though there was a part of you that felt a bit lonely just sitting here on your bed working on homework all by yourself on a Saturday night. It wasn’t exactly the most exciting way to spend an evening in college, but it wasn’t like you had too many others to spend your time with. Sure, you had another group of friends you'd made from classes that you occasionally spent time with when you weren't with Foggy and Matt pre-Elektra. But really, deep down, there was still only one person you wished you could be with tonight. But that was never going to happen.

Matt was still with Elektra. It had been just over three weeks since you and Foggy had accidentally walked in on them having sex and Matt had said some hurtful things before you’d said some in return. You’d barely seen him since, which didn’t really surprise you. The one time you had run into him briefly you'd been with Foggy. Matt had tried to apologize to you again for what he'd done and said. In return you'd offered him a clipped apology as well. It had seemed like he'd wanted to say more, but of course Elektra had called and interrupted. And that had been that. You had tried not to think too much about it since, busying yourself with schoolwork. It had gotten to be far too painful for you to be around Matt.

With a huff you glanced down, noticing the time on your laptop and realizing it was close to when Foggy was going on that date with Marci. You picked up your phone and flipped it open before taking a moment to scroll through your text messages until you found Foggy's name. You pulled up a new text and began typing up a message.

6:42PM: Hey Fog, good luck on your date! I want the details tomorrow!

Closing your phone, you set it back on the bed beside you as you focused on your assignment again. It was barely a minute later before the sound of your phone vibrating met your ears and interrupted your focus, though. Absently you reached out, picking it up and flipping it open to read Foggy's text.

FOGGY 6:43PM: Might have to cancel on her :(

You frowned, your eyes narrowing as you reread the message. Why would he need to cancel on her? He had been talking about Marci nonstop for weeks now. You knew how excited he had been for this date. Fingers flying across the little keypad, you typed up a message.

6:43PM: Why do you need to cancel?? You've been dying for a date with her!

Impatiently you stared down at your phone, waiting for his response to come through. What had happened to make him want to cancel his plans?

FOGGY 6:44PM: Matt and Elektra broke up. He’s a mess. Doesn’t feel right leaving him here alone

Your eyes went wide as you read the text over and over a handful of times, your brain trying to process the information. Matt and Elektra had broken up? Just now? How? Why? And who had actually been the one to end the relationship?

So many questions began racing through your mind. Your body felt like it didn’t know how to properly react. All of your emotions of excitement and relief mixed with despair and heartache for Matt were quickly swirling in your stomach making you want to grab your trash can and vomit. You’d hated Elektra, and you had certainly hated who Matt had become when he’d been with her, but at the same time, the thought of Matt a heartbroken mess in his dorm room had your own heart twisting and writhing in your chest. He didn’t deserve that pain even though both you and Foggy had known the day was coming when things would end.

And apparently that day was today.

Biting your lip, you sat on your bed suddenly feeling torn. Part of you wanted to help Foggy and Matt by offering to stay with Matt. That way Foggy could have his date and you’d be able to comfort your friend. Because you cared about Matt despite how shitty things had been between the pair of you over the past few weeks–really, the past few months. Though you knew if he really needed you, you’d always be there.

But the other part of you was hesitant to offer up your comfort to Matt. You had very strong feelings for Matt still, feelings that he had no idea about. And the thought of sitting with him and trying to pick up all those shattered pieces of his heart that another woman had smashed to bits sounded like absolute torture. Especially because you desperately wished he would entrust you with that very same heart. And you knew you’d happily treat it with so much love and respect if only he’d just want you like that in return. Never in a million years would you ever want to break it.

But you were only his friend.

Eyes dropping back down to Foggy’s text, your thumbs hovered over the keypad. Exhaling a long breath, you knew exactly what you were going to do. Truthfully you didn’t even have to think about it. As pathetic as maybe that made you seem, you loved Matt. And if he was hurting, you’d always be there.

6:48PM: I can stay with him, Fog. You go enjoy your date.

Saving your progress on your laptop, you began picking up the mess of scattered books and papers on your bed. Your phone vibrated along your sheets when you had begun to turn off your laptop. Reaching over, you grabbed it and spotted the new text from Foggy.

FOGGY 6:50PM: No, I can’t ask you to do that! You crazy??? I know how you feel about him still!!

Setting your jaw firm, you typed up one final response to Foggy.

6:50PM: DON’T cancel your plans. OMW over now.

Gathering up a few of your things, you tossed them into your backpack. You weren’t sure how late you’d be staying at Matt and Foggy’s dorm, but if Matt wanted to wallow silently then at least you’d be able to finish your work while you kept him company. You slipped your phone into your pocket before tossing your backpack onto your back and then you exited your dorm.

It took you about ten minutes to leave your residence hall and make your way to Matt and Foggy’s before riding the elevator up to their floor. But the closer you got to their dorm room, the more nervous you felt yourself becoming. You weren’t entirely sure what to expect when Foggy had said he was a mess, and you weren’t entirely sure how the sight of it was going to make you feel. Nevertheless, you forced yourself to continue around the corner until you’d made your way down the hall and stopped in front of their room. You took a single, shaky breath in before you raised a fist and knocked twice.

The door swung open a few moments later to reveal Foggy with his long hair combed neatly. He’d even managed to throw on a clean, button up dress shirt that you weren’t aware he’d even owned. You’d never seen him wear anything other than tee-shirts, most of which displayed some sort of band logo on them. You shot him a small smile, one he awkwardly returned.

“You cleaned up well,” you told him.

“Thanks,” he said. “You uh, you sure about this?”

You nodded, forcing a wider smile onto your face. “Yeah. Matt’s going through a hard time and he’s my friend. I want to be here for him,” you answered.

The look Foggy shot you when you’d called Matt your ‘friend’ had not gone unnoticed, but you refused to acknowledge it. Though Foggy eventually stepped aside, gesturing you into their dorm with a wave of his hand.

You stepped inside and saw Matt curled up over the sheets of his bed, his knees drawn up to his chest and his back facing the door. His shoulders were drawn up tight towards his neck, his head visibly tucked into his chest as well. Swallowing hard, you felt tears stinging at your eyes instantly. You were certain your heart broke in that moment. He looked so small .

“So I uh, I actually need to head over to Marci’s dorm soon,” Foggy said awkwardly, breaking the silence.

Your attention returned to Foggy and you saw the way his face fell at the sight of yours. He opened his mouth, most likely about to tell you he wasn’t going to go on the date, but you quickly nodded at him.

“Yeah, go on,” you told him. “Don’t be late. Doubt she’d like to be kept waiting.”

“You’re…sure?” he asked hesitantly.

Sniffling lightly, you nodded again. “Yeah, go on,” you replied. “Go enjoy your night.”

Foggy mouthed a ‘thank you’ before he grabbed a jacket and left. And then you were suddenly alone with Matt who had remained silent and motionless on his bed. Nervously chewing your bottom lip, you made your way over to Foggy’s bed and slipped off your backpack, setting it down. Turning towards Matt’s bed, you awkwardly tugged the sleeves of your sweatshirt over your hands.

“Hey, Matty,” you greeted softly.

He whispered your name in greeting back, his voice cracking as he did. Somehow your heart fell even further in your chest at the sound.

“Do you–” you paused, wincing at how dumb this sounded even to you, “–want to talk about what happened?”

“No,” he answered.

Your tongue darted out, nervously wetting your lips as you nodded. Slowly you sunk down onto the end of Foggy’s mattress, awkwardly crossing your arms over your chest. Your eyes dropped down to your dirty shoes.

“I loved her,” Matt whispered.

Instantly your eyes snapped shut at those three words spoken so heart wrenchingly softly in the room. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart giving an awkward jolt in response. God, this was going to be more painful than you’d anticipated.

“I know,” you replied just as quietly.

“But it wasn’t enough,” he said.

Your arms tightened even further around your chest as if they could keep your heart in place. “What happened?” you asked.

“She wanted me to do something that I–I couldn’t do,” he confessed. “So she just…left me. Without a word.”

Anger clawed at your chest, rage desperately wanting to break free and lash out at Elektra. What could she have possibly wanted Matt to do that he couldn’t? And how did that justify leaving him without a word? How utterly heartless was Elektra?

“You deserved better,” you stated, fighting to contain that seething anger inside of you. “No one should make you do something you don’t want to do. And they certainly shouldn’t punish you for it.” Your teeth grit together, hands curling into fists inside of the sleeves of your sweatshirt. “You deserved better , Matt,” you repeated firmly.

“But I loved her,” he whispered.

Sighing heavily, you shook your head. “Maybe–maybe you did, Matt,” you began, “but I’m not so sure it was reciprocated. Certainly not in the way it should have been.”

You braced yourself for the verbal lashing sure to come your way. For the raging, protective side of Matt that always appeared to defend Elektra. The one that had made you cry not too long ago.

Instead, Matt sniffled loudly, somehow further shrinking into himself on the bed. A tear managed to slip out of your watery eye and you quickly wiped it away with your sweatshirt sleeve.

“You’re right,” he admitted. “You and Foggy were both right. I'm sorry I was–was such a shitty friend."

Shoulders dropping at his apology, you felt your expression softening as you watched him on the bed. His head slowly rose from the pillow and turned towards you, his eyes landing on you on the end of Foggy’s bed as if he somehow knew you were sitting right there. You could clearly see the blotchy redness on his cheeks and the glistening tracks of his tear streaks. His face was pinched tight, his mouth twisted into a deep frown.

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "You and Foggy deserved better."

Your gaze dropped down again, your hands fidgeting inside of your sweatshirt sleeves. "At least you see that now," you mumbled.

The sound of Matt shifting along the mattress caught your attention and you looked back up. He was pulling himself into a sitting position, resting his back against the headboard of the bed. He looked broken sitting there with his pain written clear across his face like that. The sight alone gutted you. You truly hated Elektra for whatever the hell it was she had done to him.

“Everyone always leaves me,” he whispered.

Shaking your head firmly, you pointed out, “Foggy and I are still here.”

“Yeah, but you–you left me for a bit, too,” he replied. “And I don’t blame you. I was an ass. But still–you left.”

Your face fell instantly at his words. It felt like he’d ripped your heart right out of your chest and threw it on the ground.

“I didn’t leave you, Matt,” you told him. “I’ve always been right here. I still am. I’m–” you sucked in a sharp breath, “–your friend.” The word came out of your mouth like broken glass, cutting you up from the inside out as you said it. “And I’ll always be here for you.”

His mouth pulled upwards in a sad, disheartened smile. Even from the end of Foggy’s bed you could spot the tears shining in his eyes. The moment one of them slipped out, you were pushing yourself off of the bed and making your way over towards him.

“Scoot over, Matty,” you ordered.

He didn’t hesitate; Matt immediately began sliding towards the edge of his bed and making room for you. You climbed up onto the mattress beside him, resting your back along the headboard, too. The entire right sight of you was pressed up against the entire left side of him, from your shoulders all the way down to your legs. It was the closest the pair of you had ever really been–certainly the closest to cuddling and crossing the border of friendship that you’d ever been with him.

You couldn’t fight the urge to lean in a little more into his side. Seconds later you felt Matt pressing further back against you, and then very gradually you felt him slowly come to rest his head along your shoulder. A smile slipped across your lips as you cautiously tested the boundaries, lowering your head to gingerly rest against the top of his.

“Thanks for still being here,” Matt whispered.

“I’ll always be here, Matt,” you repeated softly.

He nuzzled his head further along your shoulder and your eyelids fluttered closed. Cuddling–you were cuddling with Matt. And sure, it was strictly platonic, especially because he was literally heartbroken–you weren’t going to lie to yourself about that . But that didn’t mean you weren’t enjoying every goddamn second of having Matt to yourself like this. Of having him right there for the first time ever.

“I’ll always be here, too,” he murmured, his voice a deep rumble.

°•°•°•°•°•°

The sound of a door softly closing faintly registered in your ears, your nose scrunching at the sound. You stirred slowly awake, eyelids gently raising. But then you quickly squinted, the light of the room bright in your eyes. It took you a moment to adjust to it, but when you did, you spotted Foggy standing at the foot of your bed with wide eyes. Your own narrowed back at him, wondering what he was doing in a rumpled button down in your dorm room.

But then you noticed the weight on your shoulder and your eyes grew wide. Gaze swiftly dropping down, you spotted Matt’s unmistakeable leg still pressed up against yours. Very carefully you withdrew your head from atop his, your eyes still wide. The both of you must have fallen asleep like this last night shortly after you’d shown up. Apparently you weren’t the only one who’d been comfortable enough to stay asleep the entire night.

“Oh my God ,” Foggy whispered roughly, your attention quickly shifting to him. “Did something finally happen?”

“What? No!” you whispered back, barely shaking your head. “No! He’s literally broken up over his ex, Fog. How could you even think that?”

“Because of exhibit A!” he harshly shot back, waving a hand frantically at Matt still asleep on your shoulder.

“We just–just fell asleep,” you told him.

Your focus dropped down to Matt’s sleeping face and a soft smile formed along your lips. He looked peaceful lying along your shoulder, not a crease of worry or a single tear anywhere on his face. His lips were ever so slightly parted and you could hear the faint, even breaths as he exhaled. What you wouldn’t give for this to be a nightly occurrence. Or to be able to gently card your fingers through his hair and place a soft kiss to his temple. For him to wake up and glance in your direction, his eyes creased from a warm smile on his own mouth as he whispered ‘good morning’ to you.

What you wouldn’t give for Matt to say he loved you .

“So then what did happen?” Foggy pressed.

“He told me a little about the break up,” you answered.

“He did?” Foggy asked with a gasp. “He wouldn’t say a word to me about it.”

Your attention was still on Matt’s sleeping face as you spoke. “He didn’t tell me much,” you admitted. “But he told me enough. And she–she definitely broke his heart, Fog.”

“I know,” he said, tone softer than it had been. “How’re you doing?”

Your head darted in Foggy’s direction at the question instantly. “What?” you asked.

“After last night,” he clarified. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m–I’m fine,” you told him.

Foggy’s eyes narrowed suspiciously at you. Not wanting to talk about that right now, especially not with Matt asleep on your shoulder, you quickly changed the subject.

“How was your night?” you asked him pointedly, waving your left hand at him. “I see you’re getting back early in the morning. Someone doing the walk of shame?”

A bright smile quickly spread across Foggy’s face, the warmth of it radiating easily around the entire room. “I wouldn’t call it a walk of shame. More like a…walk of satisfaction. Success. Triumph!”

You rolled your eyes. “So you got laid, did you?” you teased.

“Yes,” he answered with that beaming smile. “Yes, I did.”

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “Good for you, Fog,” you said.

A soft groan came from beside you and your smile quickly fell. Matt began to stir against you, slowly lifting his head from your shoulder.

“Morning buddy!” Foggy called out.

“Ugh, morning, Fog,” Matt grumbled, his voice a bit hoarse.

A sheepish smile crossed your lips as you glanced at him beside you. “Morning, Matty,” you greeted him shyly.

He froze immediately, his head tilting to one side. “Did I–did I accidentally fall asleep on you last night?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah,” you answered awkwardly. “But I guess I fell asleep on you, too. So…I guess that makes us even?”

His lips curled up slightly at the corners, his expression a little brighter than when you’d first shown up last night. The sight alone warmed you.

“So who wants to hit up the dining hall for breakfast?” Foggy asked enthusiastically. “I could go for all of the bacon and eggs. Like literally all of it.”

“Your night went well, I take it?” Matt asked, voice still rough from sleep as his attention turned towards Fog.

“Yes it did my friend,” Foggy replied excitedly. “So who’s hungry?”

You shrugged a shoulder. It was Sunday morning, not like you had a class to get to or anything. And you did need breakfast.

“Sure,” you said. “I could certainly go for some eggs and orange juice. Maybe some coffee after because you owe me details about your date, Nelson.”

“Oh, I don’t think you want to ask him for details,” Matt cut in quickly, shaking his head. “You’re not going to want the details.”

“Why not?” you asked him.

Both of Matt’s brows jumped up high onto his forehead at your question, a small grin forming on his mouth.

He was so damn beautiful it physically hurt.

Quickly snapping out of your thoughts, you pulled a face and lightly slapped Matt’s arm. “Gross, I don’t mean details about the sex! I want to know about the date !”

“With Fog, they go hand in hand,” Matt told you.

“So what about you, Matt?” Foggy asked from across the room. “You want to grab breakfast with us?”

You slid off of Matt’s bed, readjusting your sweatshirt and trying to comb your fingers through your hair. It looked like Matt was thinking, his eyes landing somewhere near you at the side of his bed. A few moments later he nodded slowly.

“Yeah,” he answered softly. “Yeah, I’ll come with.”

“Great!” Foggy shouted. “It’ll be just like old times again! The three amigos!”

“Not if you don’t stop being so chipper,” you shot back. “It’s way too early in the morning for that level of excitement.”

“I second that,” Matt said, slowly scooting himself across the bed towards you.

You watched as he rose to his feet next to you, fighting to keep your hands to yourself. The urge to reach up and draw him into a hug, hold him close to you yet again, was stronger than you'd ever felt before. You assumed it was because you'd now knew what it felt like to fall asleep cuddled up to Matt all night. And it seemed that was going to make things even more difficult for you now.

"Alright, well, I'm starving so let's go before the dining hall gets busy," Foggy said brightly, clapping his hands together. "Today is going to be a beautiful day, I can feel it!"

You huffed out a laugh, watching as Foggy exited the dorm. He was definitely more awake than usual.

"You uh, mind handing me my cane?" Matt asked. "Think it's on the nightstand."

"Oh, yeah," you answered quickly.

You turned, grabbing his cane from his nightstand. Turning back towards him, you placed it into his outstretched hand. He muttered a soft 'thanks' as he began to unfold it, your eyes watching the deft movements of his hands as he did.

"Can I bother you for one more thing?" he asked as he worked.

Your gaze slowly drew up to his face, pausing on his own eyes. He was looking somewhere near your chin, the weight of his sightless stare raising the hair along your arms. You could still see the hurt and pain plain as day in his hazel eyes despite the way his mouth was gently curled up at the corners this morning. He was still grieving Elektra. You weren't stupid enough to think otherwise even if he wasn't curled in a ball crying in his bed right now.

You'd also be lying if you said you didn't wish you could mend all the broken pieces of his heart for him. Fix it back up and make it better than new with the love you had for him burning so hot inside of you. You just wanted to reach up and kiss him. You wanted to find the courage and the words to express how much he meant to you and how he deserved the world.

You just wanted him.

"Yeah," you breathed out.

"Can you hand me my glasses?" he asked. "Don't really feel like being stared at today."

Blinking hard a few times, you pulled yourself out of your thoughts. Clearing your throat, you nodded as you forced a smile onto your face.

"Yeah, uhm, let me find them," you answered.

"Probably also on the nightstand," he offered softly.

"Right, yeah," you mumbled.

Swallowing hard, you turned back to the nightstand. Tears were pricking at your eyes and clouding your vision for a moment, but then you spotted the dark frames and picked them up. You handed them to Matt's outstretched hand and watched as he slipped them on. He shot you a little smile afterwards, one that had your heart squirming.

"Thanks," he murmured. "And uh, thanks for staying with me last night. It–it meant a lot."

You nodded, glad he couldn't see the watery smile on your face as you did. "Of course," you croaked out. Pressing your lips together, you tried to control your emotions. "That's–that's what friends do."

You cleared your throat roughly again when Matt’s head tilted curiously to the side, his dark brows pulling together on his forehead.

"We should probably go before Foggy comes back and yells at us," you said quickly.

"He's probably already forgotten about us," Matt joked.

You laughed lightly, wiping a sleeve across your damp eyes. "Probably right," you agreed.

"You–you mind guiding me?" Matt asked hesitantly.

Your gaze dropped down to his hand hovering in the air between you both. A small smile returned to your face at how close this almost felt to how things were before Elektra had fucked everything up.

"I don't mind at all, Matty," you answered.

As you reached out and drew his hand to your arm, you couldn't help but notice how tight he gripped it this time. Something about the way he held onto you felt…different. Almost as if he needed you.

But you shoved that absurd thought aside as quickly as it had come before leading the pair of you towards the dining hall.

#matt murdock x reader #etherealficreviews #etherealficrecs

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theetherealbloom · 1 year ago

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Oh my god this was so sweet!! 🥹

MITTENS !!! I’m so excited for this litte cutie to be in the next installments 🤍

ALSO HELLO??? A RING?? IS IT TIME??? OML?? MATTTTTTTTT MATTTTTTTTTTT WEDDING!!!! FIANCÉ MOMENT OMG!! 😭🤍

Falling For the Devil [Part eighty-nine: "The Stray"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Matt spends his morning alone with the new cat until you return.

Or You say something to Matt that has a bigger impact on him than you even realize.

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

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

Word Count: 3.2k

a/n: This update is also light and fluffy with its own little surprise at the end. It's also entirely in Matt's POV. Enjoy and feedback is always appreciated!

Matt hunched over his steaming mug of coffee on the kitchen table, one of his hands running along his face as he tried to wake up. He was still dressed in only his boxers, finally crawling out of bed a little after he’d heard you leave the apartment. He knew you’d woken up early, over-eager to pick up the extra odds and ends for the cat that you’d excitedly ordered last night on your phone from the pet store just two blocks over.

It had admittedly been adorable listening to how thrilled you were just over picking out cat toys last night. A faint smile ghosted over Matt’s lips even now as he remembered the little shriek you’d made, grabbing at his arm beside you on the couch when you’d spotted sushi themed ones. Granted, Matt always thought you were adorable and found your excitement contagious.

Drawing the mug of coffee to his lips, Matt could hear the soft patter of paws approaching him. He drank down the liquid before lowering the mug back to the table, his attention shifting to where he heard the cat sit down on the floor not too far from his chair. The soft swish of its tail back and forth was fast becoming a familiar sound around the apartment already.

"She's not here right now," Matt told the cat. "So whatever manipulative face you've been giving her to get your way since yesterday? It won't work on me. Because I can't see it."

A tiny mew met Matt’s ears, the cat's tail continuing to rhythmically move back and forth along the floor.

"Yeah, you won," Matt told him. "Seems like you didn't belong to anyone after all those calls we made yesterday, so you get to stay here." He pointed a finger down towards the cat, his expression stern. "But don't think you get free run of this place destroying things just because she likes you so much. No scratching up the couch. Or knocking dishes off the kitchen shelves– especially the coffee mugs," he told the cat. "She's weirdly attached to a few of them. I don’t want her crying because you broke one."

Another small meow met Matt’s ears and the corner of his mouth twitched upwards. Pressing his lips firmly together, he fought the smile threatening to slip onto his face.

He'd never had a pet before. His father never could've afforded taking care of one when Matt was young, and there was absolutely no way he'd have ever been allowed to have one at St. Agnes, so he initially assumed having a cat roaming around the apartment would be annoying with his senses. The meows, the multiple paw pads hitting the floor as the cat walked, the incessant purring, and the irritating sound of a cat’s tongue as it groomed itself. Those were all things that immediately came to mind when you’d suggested keeping the cat after he’d rescued it from the dumpster. But surprisingly Matt had discovered he hadn't minded the cat's presence much at all–other than the litter box you'd already bought for it. Though if you or Matt cleaned it immediately, the smell wasn't that bad to him and he was quickly learning to ignore it.

This cat’s meowing wasn't actually loud and grating to his ears like he'd always imagined it would be, either. Instead, it was more of a light, sweet noise, one that he’d come to like each time he'd heard it. And the purring almost had a white noise effect just like the patter of rain on the windows. If he was being honest, he'd actually liked falling asleep with the cat at the foot of the bed last night. He'd focused in on the purring, managing to tune out not only the sounds in the apartment building, but also the noise outside in Hell’s Kitchen. Last night was the fastest Matt had ever fallen asleep since gaining his heightened senses with the sound of the purring and your steady heartbeat in his ears.

He heard the cat rise to its feet, padding over towards his legs. A second later he felt the cat's head rub against his bare calf and the smile finally made its way onto Matt’s face. The cat's fur, after having been cleaned from his time among the garbage, was silky and smoother than he'd imagined it would be, too. He figured it would be scratchy and irritating to his sensitive skin, because generally that’s how it always felt when he'd pet cats or dogs in the past. But apparently not this cat.

"You're annoyingly persistent, you know that?" Matt told the cat.

Reaching a hand down, Matt scratched the fur under the cat's chin. Seconds later Matt’s ears picked up on the faint rumble as gradually the still nameless cat began to purr. Some sense of pride began to stir in Matt’s chest at the sound.

“Thought it was supposed to be hard to gain a cat’s affection,” Matt mused quietly. “Don’t blame you for loving her so easily, but I don’t know what the hell you'd want with me.”

The cat stepped closer to Matt as he spoke, rubbing his side along Matt’s shin. The cat’s tail soon curled itself around his calf, the soft hairs almost tickling Matt. The smile on his face grew just a bit wider.

“I know what you’re doing,” Matt told the cat, withdrawing his hand from the cat’s chin and sitting back in his chair. “It’s not going to work.”

Turning his attention back to his coffee, he left the cat to his own devices. He’d noticed since the both of you had brought him home that he’d often taken residence along the radiator by the window in the living room, curling up on it and watching the pigeons on the rooftop across the street. But as Matt picked his mug back up, about to drink more of his coffee, he felt two paws suddenly land on his knee.

The cup of coffee hovered just before Matt’s mouth, his hand freezing. Head tilting to the side, his brows furrowed. The cat had stretched up on his hind legs apparently, his front feet resting on Matt’s knee. He heard the air shift just a bit as one of the paws reached up, and then Matt felt a furry little paw tap the back of his hand that was holding his coffee mug. Turning his head back towards the cat, he heard another little meow again.

“What?” he asked the cat. “I know I heard her feed you and fill your water bowl already when she woke up. And she’s the one who promised to fatten you up, not me. So don’t think you can trick me into giving you more food.”

The little paw gently tapped the back of Matt’s hand again and Matt’s eyes narrowed as he focused in on the cat. Nothing seemed wrong with him–or at least, as far as he could tell. It’s not like he generally tuned into a cat’s physiology and could really tell if something was off. But the vet you’d both taken him to yesterday–who’d in fact confirmed the nameless cat was indeed a male–had said he’d seemed malnourished but otherwise healthy. And Matt couldn’t pick up on anything different from him since then.

“Do you just…want attention?” Matt asked. “Is that it?”

Of course the cat couldn’t answer, but the other place Matt knew this nameless cat had enjoyed spending time was curled up on the couch. Usually next to you or in your lap. Matt remembered the first time the cat had crawled into your lap and laid down last night. He’d been finishing up taking care of the dishes after dinner, pausing when he heard your heart speed up in your chest. At first he’d thought your pulse increasing had something to do with him–but no. It was the cat. Again. Though, the cute little giggle you’d made when the cat settled down on you was one of the best sounds he’d heard in awhile.

“Fine,” Matt relented. “I’ll sit on the couch and drink my coffee and pet you. But if you so much as scratch me with one of your nails,” he warned the cat as he rose to his feet, “I’m going to throw away all of your cat toys.”

The cat made a noise in its throat, the sound something akin to a grunt of disbelief. The unexpected noise surprised Matt, causing him to chuckle as he navigated his way to the couch, trying to keep an ear out for the cat so he didn’t step on him.

“Okay, you’re right, I won’t do that,” he admitted. “But only because of her, not you. Don’t get that mixed up. She was just…really excited about the little sushi ones. I couldn’t possibly throw them away on her.”

Matt settled down onto the couch, the leather cold and a little scratchy against his skin. With a sigh, he raised his coffee mug up to his mouth for a drink, the warmth of it a pleasant contrast to the fabric on his bare skin. He heard the cat jump up onto the couch next to him as he swallowed the liquid, the soft thump of his paws landing on the cushion next to Matt only a faint noise with how little the cat weighed. Almost instantly he curled into a ball against the side of Matt’s bare thigh, the warmth of his furry little body hard not to notice.

Relaxing back into the cushions, Matt’s eyes closed as he enjoyed his drink and tried to mentally prepare himself for the day. The warmth of the cat at his side soon became soothing, and admittedly it was nice to not be sitting here alone drinking his morning coffee while you were gone. He focused in on the cat’s faint purring, the noise a comfortable decibel to Matt’s ears. He was so relaxed and tuned into the cat that he hadn’t even noticed you’d entered the apartment building, even managing to startle him when you’d opened the apartment door.

“I’m back, Matty!”

Matt’s eyes opened at the sound of your voice, the cat at his side stirring as well. Turning his head towards the entryway hall, he heard the telltale sound of your heartbeat pounding its usual rhythm in his ears. A smile spread across his lips. That would always be his favorite sound.

“You manage to get everything you needed, sweetheart?” he called out to you.

“Yeah, they had everything I ordered,” you answered, the sound of bags rustling in his ears as you set them down to take off your shoes. “But I may have also bought him this little scratching post that’s also a hammock. It is the perfect height for the bedroom window,” you continued on, Matt grinning and shaking his head at the excitement in your voice. “So he can curl up in it and watch the pigeons and the traffic comfortably in our room, you know?”

“You’re spoiling this cat, you know that, right?” he teased.

Matt heard the playful scoff you made as you began to pick up all the bags in your hands again. Soon after, he heard your footsteps continue to make their way down the entryway hall towards him.

“He was found in a dumpster , Matt,” you replied. “I think he deserves some nice things.”

Matt shifted his attention down to the cat still curled up beside him on the couch, running his hand along the cat’s fur. “Yeah, I guess trash cat deserves some nice things,” he agreed.

“Matt!” you chastised.

Matt immediately chuckled at the tone of your voice and the way it had went up a few octaves. Admittedly he kept calling the cat that just because he enjoyed the way you reacted every time he did.

“He’s not a trash cat!” you shot back.

Matt heard you placing the bags down behind the couch before you made your way around it. Though when you had, he heard how you paused and the way your heartbeat sped up. Eyes narrowing, his head canted to the side in interest. What had that been about?

“Well, he was found in garbage,” Matt continued half-heartedly, his ears listening to your body. “And I am saying it affectionately.”

“Then maybe I should start calling you a trash Devil,” you quipped, “since I found you in a dumpster.”

He couldn’t resist the peel of laughter that fell out of him, his focus on your body briefly interrupted. He heard you make your way to the couch before he felt the cushion beside him shift as you sat down.

“Unfortunately that doesn’t have as good of a ring to it as Daredevil,” Matt replied, his laughter subsiding.

“Mmm, no, I suppose not,” you agreed.

Matt focused back on you, still absently petting the cat at his side with his free hand. Your heart had returned to its usual pace now. Matt’s head tilted to the side again, curiosity winning out.

“What was with the change in your heartbeat a moment ago?” he asked. “Just before you sat down?”

“Oh,” you breathed out, nervously laughing lightly as you waved a hand. “Nothing. It was nothing.”

A mischievous grin slipped onto Matt’s face as he shook his head. “Okay, so it was definitely something then. Spill, sweetheart.”

There was a moment of silence before you answered. Matt could hear the way your nails were picking at a string on what he assumed were your shorts.You were fidgeting, something you didn’t do too often around him anymore.

“I just–just wasn’t expecting to see you sitting here practically naked with the cat,” you muttered.

Matt’s bottom lip slipped between his teeth, fighting back a smile. “You see me like this every morning, but me sitting with a cat gets your heart racing like that?” he teased.

The air shifted around you as you shrugged, your hands continuing to fidget in your lap. “I don’t know,” you muttered, your cheeks heating, “it’s just like…coming home to my little family or something now, you know? The two of you here together. Both my boys.”

The teasing smile slowly faded from Matt’s lips, his expression softening as he read the nervousness around your body increasing. A warmth stirred in Matt’s chest at your words, his heart swelling. Because you considered him and this stray cat family. Your family.

You waved a dismissive hand, laughing nervously. “Nevermind, it’s stupid,” you said.

“No,” Matt said softly, shaking his head. “It’s not stupid at all.”

He could feel a lump forming in the back of his throat, a well of emotions trying to rise to the surface. Blinking hard a few times, he tried to push it all back. He wasn’t about to get emotional about that, not right now.

“So uh,” Matt began, clearing his throat, “we should probably start to think of names for this little guy if you don’t want trash cat to stick.”

“Actually,” you said, voice a little hesitant, “I had a thought when I was picking up everything this morning from the pet store.”

“For a name?” Matt asked.

“Yeah,” you answered, nodding. “I was thinking…what if we named him something after your dad?”

That lump seemed to abruptly thicken in the back of Matt’s throat. He swallowed a couple of times, a blurry image of his father mentally painting itself in his mind. It was getting harder to fight the tears in his eyes as he blinked them back.

“What–what do you mean?” he asked, hoping you didn’t notice the waver in his voice.

“I just meant it might be like a way to honor him?” you answered nervously. “And I–I was thinking maybe we could call him Mittens?”

Matt could feel the weight of the tears building in his eyes as his tongue nervously slipped out, wetting his lips. His hand stopped along the cat’s back, his fingers burying themselves into the cat’s comforting fur.

“Mittens?” Matt asked softly.

“Yeah,” you said. “Like boxing mitts? Since your father was such a great boxer. And, in your own way, I suppose you are, too. Though you don’t technically wear mittens out at night–but you probably should in winter time because you’re always freezing out there.”

Matt huffed out a laugh just as a single tear slipped out of his eye. Before he had a chance to discreetly try to wipe it away, you’d already noticed it. He heard the way you sucked in a breath, your back straightening on the couch beside him. And then it was your soft fingers on his cheek catching the tear, wiping it away. His eyelids lowered as he leant into your touch.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No,” Matt replied quickly. “You didn’t. I uh, I think that’s a great idea, actually.”

“You do?” you asked.

Attempting yet again to swallow that lump in his throat, Matt nodded against your hand. “Yeah, I love it,” he whispered.

You leaned in towards him, placing a gentle kiss to his cheek where the tear had fallen. Matt’s lips curled upwards in a smile at the feel of them against his skin, so soft and warm. When you pulled away, you placed a sweet kiss to his lips next, lingering against them for a moment. Once again Matt’s heart felt like it was swelling in his chest, a whole well of emotions building within him that he was struggling to keep down.

You focused your attention down onto the cat next, your hands gently stroking the top of the cat’s head. Matt smiled when he heard the soft coo you spoke to the cat with.

“What about you?” you asked him. “Do you like Mittens?”

The resounding purr that began so soon after you’d asked the question seemed to be his response.

“Sounds like a yes,” Matt whispered.

You giggled, still focused on petting the cat as you enthusiastically continued to chat to him, trying out the new name. Mittens seemed content with the name choice and the attention, purring even louder as he curled up further against Matt’s leg.

But while you were currently very focused on the cat, Matt was focused on you. That warmth in his chest only seemed to grow even more as he sat there, listening to your cheerful and bright voice as you spoke. He couldn’t fight the smile that gradually returned to his face at what you’d said just a bit ago.

Family. That word meant a lot of things to Matt, but it was something he’d felt like he’d never truly had ever since he’d lost his father. Even if his mother was only a few blocks away at Clinton Church, it wasn’t quite the same thing, not with the history between him and Maggie. Foggy’s family had honestly been the closest thing Matt had ever had to a family, but he’d only met them when he was grown and in college. But still, he’d never truly felt like he’d had a family of his own, one that he belonged to.

Not until now. Because you were right, the three of you were a family.

Matt drew his coffee mug back up to his mouth, his mind suddenly and very surely made up as he took another drink. Monday he’d tell you he was working late on a case so you wouldn’t expect him home at the usual time. And then he’d finally ask Foggy to go help him pick out a ring.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fluff #etherealficrecs #etherealficreviews

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