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thyme-in-a-bubble · 7 months ago

Text

the abandoned tie

a/n: this man... this man, this man. i've missed him so much. he has been on my mind all summer and now i finally snapped and wrote some yummy yum about him.

summary: It was terrible, you knew full well that he was your boss, but what had started as an innocent little crush the moment that you were hired as a secretary at Nelson and Murdock only grew and flourished the longer that you worked there. It didn’t help matters either that Matthew was a natural flirt, or at least was with you, always making you stumble over your words and blush like a damn schoolgirl. But even though it was the right thing to do, you just couldn’t find it in yourself to go on and actually quit, because if you did, then he wouldn’t get the chance to make your heart flutter on a daily basis anymore, bittersweet as it may be.

warnings: matt murdock x secretary!reader, smut, coworkers to lovers, kissing, office sex, clothed sex, ripping pantyhose, manhandling, oral, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, penetrative sex, protected sex, alcohol consumption, foggy slutshames matt (as he deserves. he a hoe and we love him for it)

word count: 4144

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“Okay,” Foggy huffed out a long exhale, “I can’t look at this anymore, I’m going all cross-eyed,” he slammed shut the laptop on the conference table before him, “I gotta call it a night,” and as he raised from his seat, your head tilted up from the intimidating stack of paper your nose was buried in, “any of you up for a round at Josie’s?”

“Uhm, actually, I think I might stay here a little longer,” your thumb brushed against the corner of the pile before you, a mountain of perhaps the most boring paperwork you’d ever given your time of day, but the small chance that some tiny nugget hid in there, something that could help the firm on their current case, convinced you to volunteer to take on the job, “see if I can make a bit more of a dent in this.”

“Alright, fair,” your colleague eyed the papers, then shifted his glance to his partner, seated on the stool directly beside where you sat, “Matt? Come on, man. Don’t let your best friend drink alone.”

“I’m sorry,” he shifted slightly in his seat, then uttered in a tone that almost made it sound as if he was just making up his answer to match yours, “but I think I’m gonna keep going as well,” though the hope that he had changed his verdict to sync up with your own was a dream you’d never truly let yourself believe.

It was terrible, you knew full well that he was your boss, but what had started as an innocent little crush the moment that you were hired as a secretary at Nelson and Murdock only grew and flourished the longer that you worked there. It didn’t help matters either that Matthew was a natural flirt, or at least was with you, always making you stumble over your words and blush like a damn schoolgirl. But even though it was the right thing to do, you just couldn’t find it in yourself to go on and actually quit, because if you did, then he wouldn’t get the chance to make your heart flutter on a daily basis anymore, bittersweet as it may be.

“Workaholics the both of you!” Foggy groaned light-heartedly, conjuring an airy chuckle to bubble out of you, “well,” he puffed as he bent down to grab his bag and stuff his laptop inside, “then I guess I’ll just see you guys in the morning.”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” Matt flashed his friend a smile as he crossed the threshold of the door to the conference room.

Catching his eye through the windowed wall as he made his way out towards the exit, you waved, “night!” before he raised his hand to mirror your gesture.

After silence had consumed the office once more and your eyes returned to their tedious scanning, a yawn soon forced its way out of your lungs.

As your hand flew up to cup your mouth, Matt’s soaring fingers stilled over the braille on the pages before him and his head tilted up in your direction.

“You sure you’re not done for the day?” he quietly asked.

“No,” you uttered before the yawn was through, “I wanna stay.”

“Alright,” he breathed, “how about some coffee then?”

“Uh, yeah, sure, I can go make some–”

“No, no, stay, I didn’t mean for you to–… I’ll make it.”

“Oh,” you blinked back at him, perhaps finding the role reversal a bit more staggering than you’d expected as you were usually the one making everyone else beverages, “y-yeah, that would be great,” before your gaze then shadowed him as he got up and crossed the small width of the humble office to the little kitchenette nook.

You should have probably just returned to your reading as he stood there and waited for the water in the electric kettle to boil, but you just couldn’t tear your eyes away from him.

When he returned with a steaming mug, he held it out for you to grasp, “here you go,” before he returned to his seat beside your own.

“Thanks,” your fingers enveloped the warm ceramic before you took a small sip, one that was swiftly cut short as soon as the flavour enveloped your tongue, “wow…”

“What? Is it bad?”

“No, no, quite the opposite actually,” you glanced down at the coffee in amazement before your gaze flickered up to him, “it’s perfect,” you uttered, unsure if you were more shocked or just plain weak in the knees at the fact that Matt somehow knew how you took your coffee.

The evening however didn’t drag on for too much longer following the very last sip of your caffeinated beverage. You tried to return to your work, you truly did, but no matter how hard you tried to get back into the flow of things and make a proper dent in the colossal workload, you just couldn’t.

You were too occupied staring at Matt.

Gazing longingly at his burly forearms, exposed and framed by the rolled-up sleeves of his button-down, at his wide hands as they danced over the papers before him, nearly caressing them in the manner you always fantasised he would touch your goosebump-ridden flesh, and even at the slight furrow line that appeared betwixt his dark brows as his brain absorbed the texts he read, the little crease you so badly wished to soothe with a kiss.

As your eyes continued to linger and your heart thumped in your chest at the way your mind ran wild, Matt’s right hand then extended in search of one of the items on the cluttered table, though before his fingers located the wanted folder, they first wandered so close to you that they grazed against your forearm resting there on the surface.

Though the contact sent butterflies soaring throughout your stomach, the spark also managed to snap you out of your daze and jolt you back to your senses, though the realisation bolted through you so severely that in your haphazard and hazy attempt at both hiding any trace of what you’d let yourself do, as well as dive back into what you should have been doing all along, your clumsy ass twisted away in a manner that almost caused you to fall off your chair.

Almost.

You would have fallen face first on the cold office floor if a pair of swift hands hadn’t seized your waist.

“Wow–, I’ve got you.”

As your head tilted up, gratitude ready to drip off your tongue, it ceased and shrivelled as you realised just how close you now were to Matt. Your noses almost touched as his grasp didn’t move to unfasten their strong hold on you even though you were now completely out of danger.

“You’ve got–…” you echoed hazily, “I-I–…”

As his breath fanned across your face, your eyes flickered down to his lips. You’d never been this close to him before, but now that you were, impulsivity swiftly seized your soul.

Pressing your lips against his in a chased kiss, you soon sensed his grip shift as he kissed you back, his fingers gently digging into your sides to claw you even closer.

Though as you felt yourself melt away in the dream you’d always yearned for, a flash of sense sparked within you and caused you to plant your palms on his broad chest and push him back.

“Oh my goodness…” your shoulders shot up towards your ears, “I am so, so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. Please don’t fire–”

But no more fretful words managed to leave your lips as Matt then primally grabbed your face and shut you up with a kiss, a taste of hast tingled on his tongue as he let his own desire take over and rush for more instead of other civilised methods one could opt for in such a situation, he didn’t stop to put out the fire, only fanned the wicked flames and kissed you as if it was the last thing he’d ever do.

It had caught you completely off guard and was only when he slowed his heated lips to smouldering pecks that you got the chance to catch up.

“Oh my god…” you whispered slowly between kisses, utterly stunned and reeling in the reality. Your tone at first came out a bit timid as you still couldn’t believe what was transpiring, but as soon as his lips began to wander down the side of your neck and your eyes fluttered at the dizzying sensation, you felt yourself melt into the moment and echo, “oh my god…” though now in a completely different manner, one that dripped with the desire that you evidently hadn’t been the only one to keep bottled up for so long.

As the lawyer soon rose from his seat, he dragged you up with him by the starved hold he had on your face, keeping you close and devouring your lips.

Your fingers found his dark tie for support, the fabric of which had already previously been loosened slightly by his own fingers when they long ago drifted up to pop open the very top button of his collar.

When his feet then shuffled and your backside bumped into the table’s edge, Matt’s palms coasted down your frame till they greedily swept over the pencil skirt you wore and cupped your ass, only letting himself cop a feel for a second before a small yelp bubbled out of you as he then lifted you up to sit on the conference table.

As your fingers then untangled themselves from the silk hanging around his neck and swept up to the sides of his face, your eager touch bumped into his tinted glasses, which you swiftly removed and cascaded to the messy tabletop beside you where you sat.

“Oh… Matt…” a small whimper rolled off your tongue as he then ducked down to plant sloppy pecks all along your neck, “please don’t stop…”

His low voice then vibrated against your rapid pulse, “yeah?”

“Uh-huh,” your head tilted slightly in a nod as your fingers stretched to weave in with his dark hair, “I–… I–…” you tried to fight through the foggy feeling he distilled in you, though ended up only offering him a short and desperate, “please.”

When you glanced down at him, fully expecting the lawyer’s lips to return to your own, you instead watched as they dipped down even lower, straying from your throat and wandering down to the sliver of skin on display in the neckline of your silky blouse. Your breathing was heavy as you watched your chest rise and fall beneath his hot pecks. Mouth agape, you stared intently as his kisses wandered even further south, his nose nuzzling against the soft material of your shirt as he dropped down to his knees.

Planting your palms on the surface of the table for support as you watched Matt crack open your pantyhose-clad legs, his lips then dipped down to one of them as he plucked it up to rest it upon his broad shoulder, all the while a series of kisses smothered the sheer nylon clinging to your skin.

Soon he had your skirt pushed up and bunched around your hips, fervently opening you up and peeling back your layers till he reached what he most desired. However when his touch finally did sweep up to graze against your covered centre, it didn’t continue on the journey up towards your waistband as you had assumed, but instead, his fingers pinched the sheer core of your stockings and tugged till a ripping sound rung out through the dark office.

“Fuck…” he groaned as he finished tearing the hole, nearly making it huge enough for the nylon to just give up completely and split right down the middle, that’s how little he let remain intact before he moved on and reached for the underwear now accessible to him.

His thumb stayed hooked in the soaked gusset of your underwear as he rushed to dive in for a taste of your divine. One of your hands shot down to gently grasp his hair as his tongue lavishly licked you up, making your whole body quiver from the way he made out with your cunt.

Scooping a palm up to cup your tit through your clothing, Matt groaned, “shit…” his fervent rumble vibrating against your puffy pearl before he sucked down on it, “you taste so good…”

As you swiftly felt his kisses push you over the edge, your hips began to rock back against his efforts, grinding your pussy against the lower part of his face as he lapped you up, his fingers too raising to dent your thigh, both to keep your leg draped over his shoulder, but also to keep you steady through all of your squirming as you rode out your high.

“Oh my–, fuck!” you gasped, catching your breath. Blinking down at him, you watched as he slowly rose back up, planting a few pecks in a sporadic pattern up your form till his lips again found your own. The taste of yourself was heavy on his tongue as you drifted a hand up to wipe your slickness from his stubbly chin.

“Miss Y/l/n,” he smirked as you tilted away from his kisses to clean him better, addressing you with the same formality he only occasionally still withheld for you during your working hours together, “whatever would I do without you?”

Still in your haze, you thought too hard about the flirty comment and instead turned it into some kind of unnecessary riddle, “well, first of all, you properly wouldn’t have the evidence of what you just did all over your face, and second, then I also wouldn’t even clean it up because it wouldn’t be there, because I wouldn’t be here, and–,” but then, he simply cut off your words, frankly, as well as your brain, and pressed his lips to yours.

“I fucking love how your mind works,” he grinned, a hand floating up to offer a feathery stroke through your hair.

“Oh, I–,” a shiver ran down your spine as you blinked back at him, “thank you.”

A gentle chuckle then rumbled in Matt’s chest as his fingers reached up to tug at his tie, “sweetheart, if you’re gonna thank me like that every time I pay you a compliment or talk dirty to you,” he yanked the loosened accessory over his head, “then I don’t know I’ll ever be able to stop,” and tossed the silky material to one of the dark corners of the dim room.

Tangling your arms around his neck, an amazed giggle bubbled out of you as you then settled on simply repeating, “thank you,” softly egging him on as your nose nudged against his own.

Groaning lowly, “you little minx…” a smile tugged at his lips as he then leaned in to claim your lips once more.

As he kissed you once again, your legs snaked around his form, dragging up against his sides like a cicada in his arms.

And when he soon shifted a bit before you and extended an arm to something on the table, you breathlessly asked as your fingers floated down to undo his belt, “do you have a–,” but then you twisted your neck to see what he conjured from his bag, “oh,” you glanced down at the small foil packet in his hand, “you do,” you let out a relieved exhale, “good, because I didn’t, so here I was scrambling my mind for what other options we had.”

“Oh yeah?” he smirked, the sudden presence of his hands working at freeing himself caused your own to retreat, “and what did you come up with?”

“Oh, well…” you swallowed, conjuring enough courage to utter, “we could just touch each other…”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you hazily nodded, “or I could repay you the favour.”

“Yeah?” his hard length sprang free, “you’d suck my cock?”

Scarcely breathing at all, you stared as he swiftly rolled on the condom, “more than you know…”

“But none of that’s what you really want right now, is it?”

As his hand snaked around your hip to scoop you that much closer to the edge, you foggily shook your head, “no…”

“Tell me what it is then,” he uttered as he rubbed the bulbous head of his dick through your folds, making you squirm from the dizzying sensation, “tell me what you want.”

Though the mission of getting words out and offering him an answer seemed more difficult than you anticipated as his tip nudged against your swollen clit and made it near impossible for you to think, “I–… you. I want you,” your arms draped around his neck he inched back in for a kiss, “I-I–, Matt, please just put it in–”

Answering your prayer, he then slid his cock inside, slowly filling your dripping pussy up till his pelves pressed against your puffy pearl and the tip of him kissed a spot so deep inside of you that you felt as if you could scarcely breathe at all.

“There you go,” his groan rumbled in your ear, “that what you wanted, huh?” though when you tried to respond, only whimpers flowed from your lips, “then be a good girl and thank me again,” he dared to request as he gently began to move, “tell me thank you for giving you exactly what you want,” and you moaned, eyes rolling at the way he dragged his girth out of you, so overwhelmingly slow that your cunt clenched around him so tightly that he had to carve anew when he finally thrust forward and filled you up once more, “come on, you can do it. Your pussy’s already doing it in her own incredible way.”

As his lips lowered to flutter against the side of your neck, you faintly murmured, “t-thank you–”

Though the cocky lawyer only bucked into you harder, making you tremble in his grasp as he smirked against your goosebump-ridden skin, “what was that?”

“Thank you, M-Matt!” you successfully squeaked.

“Atta girl,” his hand slid up the column of your neck as your head began to lull, “that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Uh-uh,” you hazily shook your head as you clung to his broad shoulders.

Lightly enveloping his fingers around your neck, just to keep you close, his other digits then reached down between your bodies to find your clit in a harsh rub as he dared to say, “then say it again…”

The words of gratitude then became like a mantra on your lips, incoherently flowing through your moans as he rocked into you so hard that the conference table rattled beneath you, fucking you till you both tumbled over the edge, though the simple phrase still kept rolling off your tongue even when he offered to walked you home afterwards and too when he pressed a soft peck to your forehead, whispering you goodnight before you disappeared inside your building.

The cups of coffee you had nervously bought the very next morning were quite the task to balance in your hands. It would have been strange if you didn’t buy one for all of your coworkers, even though the brew truthfully had ulterior motives.

It wasn’t just the regular kind and thoughtful round of coffee to start the day, but in truth was a thanks for the bang last night, oh, and by the way I am head over heels in love with you, I know I was too scared to tell you last night, but I’m terrified of fucking this up kind of coffee.

It was a lot of pressure to put on a simple cup of coffee, you recognised that, but what else were you to do?

Though when you managed to push open the door to the office without dropping or spilling any of the balanced paper mugs, Foggy was the first one to spot you.

“Oh, you bought coffee?” he grabbed one out of your arms, “thanks!” before he called over his shoulder, his voice flooding into the room to the left, “hey Matt! Y/n got a round of coffee!”

It hadn’t been the suave delivery you’d hoped for, having Foggy force the mood in a purely platonic and professional direction as Matt appeared and casually seized the cup his friend caught from you and extended to him, instead of the fantasy that had tickled your mind all morning of effortlessly slipping into his office and sliding it across his desk with some clever line you hadn’t been able to come up with yet.

Though Matthew still smiled and said as he raised the cup up to his lips, “thank you, Y/n,” and the mirroring echo of the words he’d made you repeat last night so many times that it lost all its meaning, caused your cheeks to heat up.

“Uhh,” you blinked back at him, trying to shake the memory off of you, “y-you’re welcome…”

However, before you could part your lips, ask your boss for a private moment and finally make your move, Foggy opened his mouth once more and spoke.

“Hey, remember how I put out feelers to Karen?” he began to saunter into the conference room.

As Matt began to follow his voice, you too shadowed them, all the while trying your best to keep the butterflies on your belly at bay as you returned to the scene of the crime, most of the papers on the table still in a mess from how little the pair of you had bothered to clean up afterwards.

“Yeah,” Matt tilted his head, “she got anything?”

“Yup,” Foggy took a sip of coffee, “called me this morning and said she’d pop by later with the stuff she–, hey,” his sentence then took a sharp turn as his gaze found something on the floor that puzzled him enough for his brows to crinkle up. Bending down, he picked up a silky string of fabric and wrapped it around his fingers, “Matt, did you forget your tie here?”

“Uh, what?” the man beside you stiffened up slightly.

“Your tie, this looks like the one you wore yesterday.”

“Oh, uhm, yeah,” he coughed, fidgeting lightly with the to-go cup in his grasp, “it just bothered me last night, so I took it off, must have forgotten to put it in my bag.”

As Foggy’s eyes scanned Matt’s reaction and too let his gaze wash over your flustered form and spot how the truth virtually poured out of your pores from the way your eyes grew, he simply hummed, “…uh-huh…” not believing his pal for a second.

Sucking in a breath, Matt tried to extend his hand and asked, “can I have it back?” though his forced casual tone was utterly unconvincing.

“Oh my god…” Foggy sighed before tossing the tie in his friend’s face, “you have a problem, man.”

To your surprise, the man beside you caught it, though you were still just one step too far behind him to catch the way a smug smirk tugged at his lips, “what?” as he couldn’t for the life of him hide the pride of the discovery his friend had surely made countless of times throughout their friendship.

“I leave you two alone for one night, one night!”

“…and to Matt for giving the closing argument of a lifetime and winning us this case!” Foggy raised his drink to the centre of where he, his colleagues and Karen sat around one of the small tables at Josie’s.

“Oh, come on,” the dark-haired man beside you humbly tilted his head, “you were on fire as well–”

“Matt,” his friend cut him off by briefly planting his palm on his shoulder, “just shut up and take the compliment,” before he tilted his beer bottle back up and roared, “cheers!”

“Cheers!” Karen, to the left of you, sang before the rest of you echoed, clinking all of your glasses together.

“Thank you,” Matt gave in and smiled as everyone took a sip, “I couldn’t have done it without you all,” before he leaned down to whisper in your ear, “especially you…”

The sound of his low voice directly in your ear was enough to turn your knees into jelly, but as your eyes fluttered up to gaze at him, the personal space he had now eliminated betwixt you two caused you to positively melt.

As you breathed out an audible smile, his lips stayed close as his breath once again tickled the shell of your ear, “so now that the trial’s done, I was wondering,” he uttered slowly, making you cling onto each and every syllable that flowed from his lips, “would you let me take you out on a real date?”

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mcrdvcks · 14 days ago

Text

— love language

summary: You and Matt are now dating, but you haven't told anyone. How long will it take your friends to notice?

word count: 3.4k+

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

notes: i had this idea after writing goodnight n go (which is technically the first part, but you don't need to read it to understand this). anyways, here's a bunch of fluff

warnings/tags: after endgame but date is not specified, best friends to lovers, reader works at stark industries, matt is a cocky little shit, making out

Things moved on normally, the only thing that had changed in the past month was that you two weren’t just friends but dating.

You didn’t realize it, but you were already quite close to Matt.

Matt chuckled, his arm hooked around yours as the two of you waited in line for coffee. “Really?” He asked sarcastically.

“Ugh.” You elbowed him. “You’re an ass.”

“I’m just saying, what kinda friends have a toothbrush at their place?” He tapped his cane against the floor lightly.

You tilted your head. “Uhhh… pretty sure at one point Foggy had a toothbrush at your place.”

“That he never used other than one time.”

You scoffed, nudging his side again. "Still counts."

Matt smirked. "Does it?"

"Yes, because that means I’m not the weird one here. You just have a habit of letting people leave their stuff at your place."

Matt tilted his head slightly, feigning thoughtfulness. "Interesting theory. Except you’re the only person whose toothbrush has stayed."

You opened your mouth to argue, then paused, realizing he was right. "Okay, fine, but that’s only because—"

"You stay over all the time?"

You huffed, rolling your eyes. "You’re impossible."

"And yet, here you are," he teased, squeezing your arm lightly before stepping forward to order.

---

Foggy opened the door to Matt’s office. “Hey, did you ever finish the deposition for the Martin case?”

Matt put down the fork to his Pad Thai, leaving it in the Styrofoam container. “Yeah, I did.”

You took the opportunity, snatching the fork from his container and stealing a bite of his Pad Thai. Matt huffed, but you could hear the amusement in it.

"Really?" he murmured.

"You put it down," you said, chewing. "That means it's fair game."

Foggy barely glanced up from the papers in his hand. "She’s got a point, Matt. You know the rules."

Matt exhaled sharply, shaking his head as he blindly reached for the fork still in your grip. You dodged, keeping it out of his reach as you took another bite.

Foggy flipped a page. "Anyway, judge pushed the hearing back a week, which is good because it gives us time to go over the new witness statement. Karen’s taking a look at it now."

Matt hummed in acknowledgment, still trying to reclaim his fork. You smirked, shifting slightly in his lap. He retaliated by sliding an arm around your waist, pinning you in place.

"You gonna give that back?" he murmured.

"Maybe," you teased, holding it just out of reach.

Foggy sighed, still not looking up. "If you two devolve into a full-on fork battle, at least take it outside. I don’t need Pad Thai in the depositions."

Matt smirked, finally managing to grab the utensil from your grip. "Noted."

You huffed but didn’t move, resting your elbow on his shoulder instead. "Fine. I got what I wanted anyway."

Matt chuckled, shaking his head as he twirled the fork back into his food.

Foggy snapped the folder shut. "Alright, well, since you two seem busy, I’ll go see if Karen needs help."

"Let us know if you need anything," Matt said easily.

"Yeah, yeah," Foggy muttered, already halfway out the door.

---

Josie’s was loud and crowded as always, but at this point it was like a second home. You were telling Karen about an incident in the lab. “—Levi somehow hooks the string around the sprinkler and pulls. I get an alert on my tablet and rush over to the lab. Turns out, when he pulled the sprinkler, he also pulled part of the main water line. All for a tiny qubit that got stuck on the ceiling.”

Karen snorted, shaking her head. "Please tell me this guy got fired."

"Nope," you said, sipping your drink. "Because technically, it worked. The qubit came loose. He just, y’know… flooded half the floor in the process."

Karen groaned. "God, Stark Industries sounds like a nightmare sometimes."

"You have no idea," you muttered, setting your glass down.

As you kept talking, you felt your shirt strap slide down your shoulder. It wasn’t anything major, just a slight shift, but before you could adjust it yourself, Matt did it for you.

His hand found your shoulder with ease, fingers brushing your skin as he hooked the strap with two fingers and guided it back into place. It was quick, thoughtless, something he’d probably done a hundred times before without even realizing.

Karen barely blinked.

You didn’t think much of it either, continuing on. "Anyway, Levi tried to convince me it was an 'engineering breakthrough' and that 'technically' he proved a new method of remote retrieval—"

"You’re kidding," Karen deadpanned.

"Oh, I wish."

Matt smirked beside you, listening quietly. His arm was resting along the back of your chair, close but not overbearing.

Karen leaned forward, taking another sip of her drink. "So what’d you do?"

You grinned. "Told him if he ever did that again, I’d make sure the next thing he got stuck was his own head in the centrifuge."

Karen burst out laughing. "And let me guess—he immediately backed down."

"Pretty much," you said smugly.

Matt chuckled, shaking his head. "You really are terrifying sometimes."

"And yet, here you are," you teased, echoing the same words you’d said to him earlier that morning.

Matt tilted his head slightly, smirk deepening. "Guess I have a thing for danger."

Karen rolled her eyes but didn’t comment. She was too used to the way you two interacted, and nothing about tonight seemed different from any other night.

---

“You didn’t have to come.” Matt murmured, as your hands combed through his hair. “It’s just a mugging case.”

“And yet,” you pulled your hands away. “You were goin’ to walk in there with hair like that.” You gave him a grin. “I helped you devil boy. Oh, wait.”

You pulled his red-lensed glasses off before cleaning them with your shirt. Matt huffed, tilting his head slightly. "You know, most people don’t manhandle my things without permission."

"Most people aren’t me," you shot back, flipping the glasses open and sliding them back onto his face.

Matt’s lips twitched, but he didn’t argue.

Foggy sighed from beside you. "How do you two have time for this while standing outside a courtroom?"

Karen smirked, arms crossed. "Multitasking."

You grinned. "Exactly. I’m helping him and annoying him at the same time."

Matt let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "You really do take your job seriously."

"Obviously."

Before Foggy could reply, the courtroom doors opened, and the previous case let out, lawyers and reporters filing into the hallway. The four of you straightened slightly as Matt rolled his shoulders, settling into courtroom mode.

"Alright," Matt murmured, adjusting his tie. "Let’s get this over with."

You reached out instinctively, running a hand down the front of his suit, smoothing the fabric. "You’re good."

Matt caught your wrist before you could pull away, his thumb brushing over your pulse for just a second longer than necessary. “You going to stay?”

“Yep. I’ll be sittin’ in the front row looking pretty.”

Foggy snorted. "Sittin’ pretty? That’s your plan?"

"Someone’s gotta balance out Matt’s whole intimidating blind lawyer thing," you teased, adjusting your bag over your shoulder.

Matt smirked. "Intimidating, huh?"

"You know what you do," you muttered, patting his chest once before stepping back.

Karen chuckled, shaking her head. "Alright, let’s get in there before we miss the good part."

The courtroom was already filling up when you and Karen slipped into the front row, Matt and Foggy making their way to the bench. You crossed one leg over the other, leaning back slightly as you pulled your phone from your bag, muting notifications.

"You know, sometimes I forget you don’t actually work for them," Karen mused, watching as you settled in.

You glanced at her. "Why?"

Karen shrugged. "You’re here so often, always involved in their cases, bringing them food, making sure Matt doesn’t walk into court looking like he just crawled out of a dumpster—"

"Hey," you cut in. "I don’t make him look good. He just listens to me when I tell him to fix his tie."

Karen smirked, tilting her head. "Mhm."

You rolled your eyes, looking toward the front of the courtroom. Matt and Foggy were talking in hushed tones, Foggy flipping through a stack of papers while Matt leaned slightly toward him, nodding at something he said.

Karen was still watching you, but you ignored her.

The judge entered, and the room settled as the proceedings began.

---

The hearing wasn’t long, but it was long enough for you to notice Karen sneaking glances at you every so often. You didn’t say anything, keeping your focus on the case.

Matt and Foggy handled it well, as expected. You knew Matt’s confidence in the courtroom was unmatched, and even though you couldn’t see his eyes behind the red lenses, you knew he was completely locked in, analyzing every shift in the judge’s tone, every heartbeat in the room.

By the time the judge adjourned the hearing, you were stretching slightly, rolling your shoulders as you stood.

Matt and Foggy approached, gathering their things. "Well," Foggy said, stuffing papers into his briefcase. "That went about as well as it could’ve."

Matt hummed in agreement. "We should have a decision in a few days."

Karen exhaled. "That was exhausting to watch, so I can’t imagine how you two feel."

Matt smiled. "Used to it."

You reached out, fixing the fold of his pocket square before he could tuck his cane under his arm. "You did good."

Matt turned his head toward you slightly, smirk playing at his lips. "Yeah?"

You huffed. "Yeah, Murdock. Try not to look so smug about it."

Foggy raised a brow, gaze flickering between the two of you for a second. Karen, too, was watching, something unreadable in her expression.

Neither of them said anything.

"Alright," Foggy finally broke the silence, snapping his briefcase shut. "Lunch? Please? I need food after all that legal jargon."

"Agreed," Karen said.

You nodded. "Sounds good to me."

Matt tapped his cane against the floor once, falling into step beside you. Karen shot one last glance between the two of you but still said nothing.

---

You pulled out an expired container of milk. “Matty, I seriously don’t know how you, of all people, didn’t notice you had 2-week expired milk in your fridge.”

Matt smirked from where he was leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. "You think I make a habit of sniffing my milk cartons?"

You made a face, waving the expired container in his direction. "Considering you should be able to smell the rotting dairy in your fridge? Yeah, actually, I do."

Matt huffed a quiet laugh, stepping forward as you popped the lid open and took an experimental sniff—only to gag immediately.

"Jesus Christ," you muttered, shoving the carton at him. "Smell it. I dare you."

Matt wrinkled his nose, taking a slight step back. "I’ll pass."

"Uh-huh, that’s what I thought." You shut the carton and tossed it in the trash before opening the fridge again. "When’s the last time you actually bought groceries?"

Matt leaned against the counter, lips twitching. "Don’t know. You usually do it for me."

You shot him a look over your shoulder. "That’s not the win you think it is, Murdock."

"I don’t know," he murmured, stepping behind you, hands settling at your waist. "Feels like a win to me."

Your breath hitched as he leaned in slightly, lips brushing just behind your ear. You huffed, pushing him back lightly with your elbow. "No, you don’t get to distract me. Your fridge is a disaster."

Matt let out a quiet chuckle but didn’t let go entirely. "I’ve survived this long."

"Yeah, because I keep you alive," you muttered, pulling out a sad-looking bag of spinach and holding it up for him. "This? This is a crime."

Matt smirked. "Pretty sure I deal with actual crimes for a living."

"You’re so lucky you’re cute." You tossed the bag onto the counter with a sigh. "Alright, that’s it. We’re going grocery shopping."

"You say that like I have a choice."

"You don’t," you said, shutting the fridge and turning in his arms.

Matt smiled, fingers brushing over your hip before he dropped his hands. "At least let me buy you dinner after."

You narrowed your eyes playfully. "Bribing me with food?"

"Wouldn’t be the first time."

You rolled your eyes, but the smirk you tried to suppress still made its way onto your lips. "Fine. But you’re carrying all the bags."

"Deal," Matt murmured, reaching for his cane.

You grabbed your coat, glancing at him as he adjusted his watch. "And I’m making sure you don’t buy anything that will expire in two days."

Matt chuckled. "Now that’s just cruel."

---

The grocery store was relatively quiet for a Friday night, the kind of late-evening lull where the only customers were people grabbing last-minute dinner ingredients or, in Matt’s case, replacing an entire fridge’s worth of expired food.

You pushed the cart while Matt walked beside you, his hand resting lightly at the crook of your elbow. "Alright, first things first," you said, steering the cart toward the produce section. "You’re getting actual vegetables. Not just things that used to be vegetables before they died a slow, tragic death in your fridge."

Matt smirked. "I resent that."

"You resent having to eat vegetables," you shot back, picking up a head of lettuce and tossing it into the cart.

Matt tilted his head slightly, like he was considering. "That might be true."

You sighed dramatically. "It’s like taking a toddler shopping."

"You did sign up for this," Matt pointed out, casually trailing his fingers over the display of apples as he passed.

You side-eyed him. "Did I? I don’t remember agreeing to supervise you."

"You knew what you were getting into," he teased, reaching past you to grab an apple and setting it in the cart.

"Yeah, yeah," you muttered, adding a few more. "What else do you need? Other than everything."

Matt hummed, fingers tapping lightly against the handle of the cart. "Bread. Eggs. Coffee."

"Obviously," you muttered, already steering the cart in that direction.

As you walked, Matt’s hand slid from your elbow to your wrist, fingers idly tracing over your pulse before his hand found yours, linking your fingers together like it was nothing.

You squeezed his hand slightly. "If you think holding my hand is gonna distract me from making you buy actual groceries, you’re wrong."

Matt huffed a quiet laugh, thumb brushing over the back of your hand. "Worth a shot."

"Mm-hmm," you mused, scanning the shelves as you walked. You paused near the coffee aisle, reaching for a bag of Matt’s usual blend.

"That one’s good," Matt said, nodding toward it.

You smirked, holding up a different one just to mess with him. "What about this one?"

Matt tilted his head slightly, a smirk playing on his lips. "That one’s decaf."

Your lips parted in mock surprise. "Wow. Look at that. Guess you do pay attention to your groceries."

Matt exhaled a laugh, leaning in slightly. "I pay attention to you."

Your stomach flipped, but you covered it with an eye roll, tossing his usual coffee into the cart before dragging him toward the next aisle.

---

By the time you made it to the checkout, the cart was full. Probably more food than Matt had ever willingly bought for himself.

"You’re never gonna finish all this," he mused as you unloaded onto the conveyor belt.

"You will if you actually cook," you shot back. "And don’t tell me you can’t. I’ve seen you do it."

Matt smirked, handing the cashier his card before you could stop him. "Guess I have no choice now."

You squinted at him. "That sounds suspiciously like a challenge."

Matt tilted his head. "Maybe it is."

You grinned. "Alright, Murdock. Guess I’ll be the judge of whether or not you can actually cook."

Matt chuckled, grabbing the grocery bags as the cashier finished bagging them. "I did offer to buy you dinner."

You crossed your arms. "I thought we were talking restaurant dinner, not Murdock’s Mystery Kitchen dinner."

Matt smirked, shifting the bags in his hands. "I never specified."

You rolled your eyes but reached out, grabbing a couple of bags from him. "Fine. But if you burn anything, I’m taking over."

"Noted," Matt said, leaning in just slightly. "But I wouldn’t underestimate me, sweetheart."

You huffed, shoving a bag at him before walking toward the door. "We’ll see about that, devil boy."

---

“Where’s my shirt? You know, the soft blue one with a star embroidered on it?”

Matt, who was sitting on the couch, fingers tracing a braille legal document, tilted his head. “…Where are your clothes?”

“My—that’s what I’m asking you.” You replied, hands on your hips, leaning against his bedroom door.

Matt’s lips twitched, setting the braille document down on the coffee table. He turned his head slightly, his attention fully on you now. "You’re asking me where your clothes are?"

"Yes, Matty." You sighed, crossing your arms. "I took a shower, and now I can’t find my damn shirt. The soft blue one? The one with the star embroidered on it?"

Matt hummed, pushing himself up from the couch, his movements slow, deliberate. "And you think I did something with it?"

"You have a habit of stealing my clothes," you pointed out. "So yes, you’re my prime suspect."

Matt smirked, stepping toward you. "Interesting accusation, sweetheart."

You didn’t flinch as he closed the distance, his fingers barely brushing along your forearm, trailing up to your shoulder before settling against your jaw.

"You’re not wearing any clothes."

You rolled your eyes. "I am wearing clothes. Just not the ones I want."

Matt exhaled a quiet chuckle, tilting his head slightly. "Bra and underwear don’t count."

"Tell that to every guy who’s ever seen a Victoria’s Secret ad," you muttered.

Matt grinned. "Is that what this is? A show?"

You huffed, lightly swatting at his chest. "You’re impossible."

"And yet, here you are," he teased, echoing your words from earlier, his fingers still lazily tracing the edge of your jaw.

You narrowed your eyes but didn’t pull away. "Are you gonna help me find my shirt or not?"

Matt’s lips twitched. "I’m starting to think you just wanted an excuse to walk around like this."

You scoffed. "Matty, if I wanted to walk around half-naked in your apartment, I would. I don’t need an excuse."

Matt grinned. "Good to know."

You rolled your eyes, stepping back. "So are you gonna help or—"

Before you could finish, Matt turned toward his dresser, fingers trailing over the top before he grabbed something and held it out.

Your missing shirt.

Your jaw dropped. "You knew where it was this whole time?"

Matt shrugged. "You left it here last week. I thought it was mine."

You squinted at him. "Since when do you own a soft blue shirt with a star embroidered on it?"

Matt smirked. "I don’t, but you leave your stuff here so often, I figured it was fair game."

You snatched it from his hands. "Unbelievable."

Matt huffed a laugh, crossing his arms. "You gonna put it on, or do I get to keep enjoying the view?"

You shot him a look, but the heat in his voice sent something warm curling in your stomach. You turned away, slipping the shirt over your head, and when you glanced back, Matt was still smirking.

"Happy now?" you muttered.

Matt hummed, stepping closer again. "Not yet."

Before you could respond, he leaned in, catching your chin between his fingers before pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips.

When he pulled back, his smirk deepened. "Now I’m happy."

You scoffed, trying to ignore the way your heart was hammering in your chest. "You’re ridiculous."

"And you love it."

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue.

---

It was late at night when Matt convinced you to stay. Foggy and Karen were out of the office for the night, leaving just you and Matt doing your separate work.

The office was quiet, save for the occasional rustling of paper and the distant hum of the city outside.

You were perched on Matt’s couch, cross-legged, a set of blueprints spread across your lap while he sat at his desk, reading over a case file. Neither of you spoke, lost in your own work, but there was a comfortable ease to it.

"Are you even getting anything done over there?" Matt asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

You didn’t look up. "Are you?"

He hummed. "I was. Until I realized how unfair this is."

You sighed, already knowing where this was going. "What’s unfair, Matty?"

"You get to sit all comfy on my couch, while I’m stuck here, hard at work."

You snorted. "Hard at work, huh? I didn’t realize whining counted as work."

Matt pushed his chair back, standing slowly. "I think I deserve a break."

You barely glanced up. "Then take one. I’m actually doing something productive."

Matt made his way toward you, hands in his pockets. "Are you?"

You narrowed your eyes, lifting a brow. "Yes. Unlike some people, I have deadlines to meet."

Matt hummed, stepping in front of you. "And yet, you’re still here. With me."

"Because you asked me to stay," you reminded him, flipping a page. "You coerced me."

Matt smirked. "Did I?"

"Yes, you—hey!"

In one swift motion, Matt plucked the blueprints from your lap and set them aside. Before you could protest, he leaned down, hands bracketing your sides as he caged you against the couch.

"Take a break with me, angel," he murmured.

You exhaled, glaring up at him. "You are so—"

Whatever insult you had lined up died in your throat as Matt leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your jaw. His lips brushed over your pulse, deliberate, teasing.

"Annoying?" he murmured.

You swallowed hard. "Distracting."

Matt grinned against your skin. "Mm. I’ll take that."

Your fingers curled around his tie, tugging slightly. "You are so lucky I like you."

Matt chuckled, dipping his head until his lips were just barely grazing yours. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

You closed the distance, kissing him properly.

Matt exhaled against your lips, deepening it immediately. His hands skimmed down your sides, gripping your waist as he pulled you flush against him. You barely noticed when he guided you backward, until the edge of his desk dug into your lower back.

"Matty," you murmured between kisses.

"Mm?"

"I thought we were taking a break."

"This is my break," he murmured, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your throat.

You huffed a quiet laugh, threading your fingers into his hair. "Productive."

Matt grinned against your skin, hands slipping under the hem of your shirt. "You’re the one distracting me, sweetheart."

You rolled your eyes but didn’t stop him, tilting your head slightly to give him better access. His lips trailed back up, capturing yours again in a kiss that left your head spinning.

Neither of you noticed the sound of the front door opening.

At least, you didn’t.

Matt either didn’t hear it, or—more likely—just didn’t care.

"Hey, Matt, I left my phone—"

Foggy’s voice cut through the air like a record scratch.

You froze.

Matt, however, barely reacted. His lips left yours just enough for him to let out a quiet sigh—like he was annoyed—before pressing one last kiss to your jaw.

"Should’ve knocked, Fog," he murmured.

Your entire body was on fire. You didn’t dare turn around. Foggy, for his part, just stood there. Silent. Karen was the one to break it. "Uh."

You exhaled sharply, tilting your head back against the desk. "Jesus Christ."

Matt still didn’t move. He just turned his head slightly in their direction. "You left your phone?"

Foggy blinked. "Yeah." A beat. "But now I kinda wanna leave it here forever."

Karen coughed, her voice tight with suppressed laughter. "Should we leave?"

You groaned, covering your face with your hands.

Matt just smirked. "You could, but I doubt you will."

Karen cleared her throat. "Y’know what? I suddenly really need a drink."

"Yeah, me too," Foggy muttered, grabbing his phone off the desk and speed walking toward the door.

Karen cast one last glance between the two of you, shaking her head before following. The second the door shut behind them, you finally shoved Matt away.

"You knew they were coming, didn’t you!?"

Matt grinned, shrugging. "You said it yourself—I have a habit of coercing you."

You gaped at him. "Murdock."

He just leaned in again, lips ghosting over your ear. "You gonna finish what you started, angel?"

Your face burned. "I started!?"

Matt chuckled, nudging his nose against yours.

"You’re impossible," you muttered, still flustered.

"And yet," Matt murmured, smirking, "here you are."

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you #daredevil x y/n #matt murdock #matthew murdock #daredevil #daredevil born again #matt murdock fanfic #daredevil fanfiction

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bellaxgiornata · 15 days ago

Text

Nothing Remains the Same

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader Word Count: 4.1k [Matt Murdock Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; DDBA SPOILERS, angst (not a happy ending), emotional hurt, pining, mentions of sexual content

Summary: In an attempt to bridge the distance between Karen and you, Matt invites you both to his apartment for dinner while the pair of you are visiting New York for work. But after that night at Josie's over a year ago and your almost-relationship with Matt had long since ended, clearly nothing is the same anymore–especially Matt.

a/n: I've had this idea stuck in my head for over a week now because I've been craving angst so...here you go. This contains DDBA spoilers and has no happy ending (unless I make a second part at some point). Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

tag list: @captainorbust-blog @hollandorks @lights-on-the-ridge @spider-jedi17 @raindropsandteaandtears @thekidsare-kinda-alright

Leaning against the counter beside Karen, a glass of wine in your hands, you watched Matt and Heather as they continued talking on the other side of the island in Matt’s kitchen. Karen stood beside you with her arms crossed over her chest, absently swirling the red wine in her glass. The smile on her face was polite but strained as she listened to the story the couple was currently regaling you both with–how Matt had asked Heather to move in. But even you could see that Karen was thinking the exact same thing you’d been from the moment you both stepped into this apartment.

Nothing felt right here.

Your eyes lingered on the way Matt stirred the sauce in the pan on the island stovetop, his red glasses perched on his nose and still obscuring his full expression from view. You hadn’t seen his eyes even once since Karen and you had arrived almost an hour ago, which only made the distance between you three feel like a gaping hole only growing more impossible to cross. Jaw twitching as you tapped a finger against the glass in your hands, you barely registered the conversation occurring around you.

You were not remotely interested in hearing about Matt and the girlfriend he’d surprised you and Karen with the moment you’d stepped through the threshold into his apartment for dinner tonight–not when you had once been the woman in his life telling stories like this. It used to be you and Matt telling Karen and Foggy about the date you'd gone on, or how Matt had slipped through your window late as Daredevil and crashed at your place as you both explained why you had showed up late to the office together that morning. And then Foggy would always tease you both about your flirting in the workplace and–

No. Now wasn't the time for that.

But it was impossible to focus on what Heather was saying as your own memories kept flashing through your mind. Memories of drunkenly making your way into Matt’s previous apartment, clutching a bag of Thai food in your hand from the restaurant around the corner you both loved. Or the nights he'd asked you to stay over because he liked having you in his apartment when he made his way through the roof access door, exhausted and maybe a little banged up in his suit. All those times you’d both been over-eager on his couch, too in the moment to make it to his bedroom before undressing each other. Those times when you’d both been washed in the deep hues of different colors from the billboard across the street, bathing your bodies in various shades as you made love on his couch.

Glancing through the kitchen towards his living room on the left, you noticed his couch was different. Not the same one you remembered. It wasn't the leather couch you both had cuddled on countless nights before, or the one you'd cleaned his blood from off the cushions on multiple different occasions. Your hand tightened around the wine glass as you stared past Karen into his living room, blankly taking in his new apartment.

It felt cold here. Fake. Like a prop and not some place where Matt actually lived–where he came home after a day of work to unwind and where he laid down to sleep at night. This wasn’t Hell’s Kitchen. His fridge was fully stocked with food instead of just beer, half a bottle of orange juice, and the rare carton of eggs. There was no obscene billboard across the street, and those stairs leading from the roof that you’d seen him stumble down too many times to count in his red suit were missing. The furniture here was different–nicer. Everything from his kitchenware to the sweater he had on looked expensive. And where had that red plaid blanket gone that you’d both wrapped yourselves in all those times you’d drank cheap beer on his roof?

But as your eyes returned to Matt, Heather now having switched topics to some upcoming book about vigilantes that she was working on–which made it apparent that she had no clue she was living with one–you noticed the worst part about all of this. Matt felt different. That smile on his face seemed strained, and you had a feeling if he removed those glasses, you'd easily see it didn't quite reach his eyes. His laugh sounded off whenever Heather told a joke. The way he moved around the kitchen cooking dinner with that slightly diluted charming smile on his lips just felt wrong.

This didn’t feel like Matt. You didn’t know who the hell was standing on the opposite side of the island counter from you with some other woman’s hand lingering on his shoulder, but he wasn’t your Matthew. It felt like you were somehow standing in the middle of a nightmare that you couldn’t wake up from. Because this couldn’t possibly be where things had gone now between all of you.

As your pulse quickened, that heartache you thought you’d buried for the past year–the one you thought you’d come to terms with while you’d been gone from New York–suddenly felt as if it had torn your chest wide open again. Almost instantaneously, Matt’s head shifted towards you from across the island counter. Raising the red wine towards your mouth, you swallowed the bitter alcohol down as his covered gaze landed on you.

You knew he’d caught that.

Pressing your lips together and forcing a smile onto your face, you turned your attention away from Matt and back to Heather. She smiled at you as she came to a natural break in her explanation of what she was working on and you nodded your head, trying to take an interest in what she was discussing. You knew you’d been far too quiet since having arrived here and it was probably bordering on rude, but your mouth felt so damn dry.

“That–that sounds like an interesting premise,” you forced out.

Heather smiled before she draped herself around Matt as he continued cooking, your stomach twisting at the sight. How had Matt thought that this would be a good idea? A good way to catch up and try to mend things between Karen and you? How had he not realized how much this would hurt you? Even if you hadn’t gotten Matt to the point of officially labeling you as his girlfriend back then, that’s what you’d been. And now you were watching him live that out with someone else right in front of you. It made you want to be sick.

“I told Matt here that he should get me an interview with one of his vigilante acquaintances,” Heather continued, affectionately patting his shoulder as she looked up at him. “Frank Castle or Daredevil. Maybe both.”

Beside you, Karen nearly choked on the wine she’d been drinking. Teeth sinking into your bottom lip, you refrained from blurting any of the comments that were sitting on the tip of your tongue as Matt chuckled good-naturedly. That feeling of everything being off only intensified.

“Yeah, I’m sure he could absolutely manage that,” Karen said, her blue eyes piercing into Matt while she spoke. “I could only imagine those two sitting down with a therapist. Bet that’d be interesting, wouldn’t it, Matt?”

Matt glanced up from his cooking, a tight smile on his face. “Yeah, I’m sure it would be.” A muscle jumped in his cheek before he focused on Heather beside him, that slightly off smile on his face again. “But I already told you that I’m not so sure if that’s a good idea, sweetheart.”

The moment the simple term of endearment was out of his mouth, you froze in place as if the air had just been sucked straight from your lungs. Sweetheart. He was calling her sweetheart. After all of those times he’d called you that–over the phone when he was making plans with you, in his deep sultry tone when he’d flirt with you in the office, panted into your ear when he was buried inside of you–now he was calling someone else that?

You felt lightheaded, your heart beating unsteadily in your chest. Reaching a hand out behind yourself, your fingers gripped onto the cold stone of Matt’s kitchen counter behind you as your knees felt like they were beginning to buckle. Beside you, Karen turned her head at the movement, catching the look on your face. Her blonde brows drew together in worry, a silent question forming on her features clearly asking if you were alright. But it was one that you weren’t sure how to answer. Because no, you weren’t alright. Nothing felt right anymore.

Across the kitchen, you heard Heather call out your name as you set your wine glass down on the counter beside you. One hand reaching up, you grabbed the collar of your blouse, trying to pull it away from your neck. It felt stifling in here all of the sudden.

“Are you alright?” Heather asked, her eyes scanning you closely.

“Is something wrong?” Matt asked.

He stopped stirring the sauce in the pan in front of him as he’d spoken with genuine concern in his tone. His attention fixed on you instead of the dinner he’d been preparing, no doubt reading your body closely and listening to all of the things even you couldn’t catch. You wondered what it told him. Wondered if he knew how much he was tormenting you right now or if he even cared because he just wanted you and Karen back in his life, as if things could somehow snap back to how they were between the three of you while one part of the group was glaringly and permanently missing.

“I uh,” you began, trying to find the words as all three sets of eyes landed on you. “I just–just need some air. The uh–” you broke off, feeling your body growing hotter as Karen gave you a knowing look. “I just think that flight in from California took it out of me.”

A nervous laugh slipped out of you, the urge to bolt from this apartment–from this whole damn city–slamming right into you. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t stand here and smile and pretend like you were fine with everything. Because you weren’t. And you weren’t even sure if Heather knew that you were basically Matt’s ex and not just one of his ex-associates from Nelson, Murdock, and Page.

“I’m just going to step out,” you said, pushing off of the kitchen counter.

Not even caring about how rude you might’ve appeared, you slipped past Karen and the knowing look on her face before making your way through the kitchen and towards Matt’s front door. Without a backwards glance or another word, you pulled the door to his apartment open and darted outside of it, hurrying straight for the elevator at the end of the hallway.

As you jammed your finger into the elevator call button, waiting for the doors to open, you hated knowing that he was aware of your entire exit from his place. You couldn’t just cry in peace in the elevator as you made your escape, because if Matt was still Matt, you knew his senses were focused on you as you stepped into the elevator. Knew that he could hear you trying to fight back the quiet sobs threatening to overtake you and the erratic beating of your heart in your chest.

But none of that stopped you from letting the tears spill down your face the second the elevator doors shut in front of you. Slumping against the wall of the elevator as it began to descend towards the lobby, you wiped away the tears with the back of your hand as they began to fall. It had been a horrible idea to accept Matt’s offer for dinner at his place tonight with Karen while the pair of you were briefly back in New York. You had hoped that this weird, painful divide between the three of you could gradually be mended after the loss of Foggy, but now you weren’t sure how possible that could ever be.

You couldn’t see him with another woman. It didn’t matter how smart, successful, beautiful, and kind she seemed. It didn’t feel right seeing her wrapping her arms around his waist or rubbing his shoulder affectionately. Kissing his cheek and sharing little jokes. Hearing him call her sweetheart. Knowing they were living together.

That was supposed to have been you. It had been you.

Until that night at Josie’s a little over a year ago now. The night that had changed everything. The night where your’s, and Matt’s, and Karen’s worlds had fallen completely apart. The night you three lost Foggy. When he’d taken that last gasping breath in front of you and Karen right outside of the bar the four of you had frequented almost weekly. That night when a part of Matt had died with him. But while you and Karen had tried struggling together to move on and deal with your grief over the tragic loss of one of your best friends, Matt had only shut you and her out completely.

But you were still in love with Matt. That much was painfully obvious after tonight. He might have walked away and moved on from you, even if it all seemed so damn fake and forced, but you’d apparently been holding onto something that wasn’t ever going to happen again and you were just now realizing it.

The elevator doors opened with a ding, the noise cutting through your thoughts. Sniffling softly, you pushed yourself off of the wall and stepped out of it, heading into the well lit and extravagantly decorated lobby which was a vast difference from Matt’s previous apartment building. Thankfully, it wasn’t too crowded with people coming and going, meaning no one really spared you a passing glance as you wiped at your tear-stained cheeks.

You had no intention of going back up to Matt’s apartment. You would just come up with some lie for Karen to tell them about you not feeling well and instead spend the rest of your evening crying alone in your hotel room until Karen came back. But just as you’d felt for your phone in your pocket so you could send her a text, you heard your name being called across the lobby. Brows furrowing together in confusion, you paused and turned your head towards where the voice had come from.

Matt was making his way out of the stairwell, his cane sweeping across the floor as he hurried towards you. You were vaguely aware of how little he was hiding the fact that he knew exactly where you were standing despite that he was in public, his feet leading him straight towards you. His dark brows were pinched together, furrowing deeply beneath his glasses as he approached.

“Matt, you don’t–”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, stopping just in front of you. “Why’re you leaving? You’ve only been here for an hour. And don’t tell me you just needed air or that you’re not feeling well because we both know that’s not true.”

Unable to stop the humorless laugh that bubbled up out of you, a look of disbelief crossed your face at the question. Even with the glasses covering his eyes, his face noticeably twisted up as if the sound had somehow physically hurt him.

“Why didn’t you tell us your girlfriend would be joining us for dinner when you invited us?” you questioned back. “That she was living with you? Or that you even had a girlfriend, for that matter.”

“I–I wasn’t…” he trailed off, at least having the sense to sound guilty. He paused, gripping his cane tight between his hands as he pursed his lips in frustration. “Look, I wasn’t sure I’d ever have the opportunity to try to fix things with Karen and you, so when I found out you both were coming out here for work, I took my chance to invite you both for dinner. I didn’t think it would be a problem that I was seeing someone, but initially Heather had an appointment scheduled for the evening which had been canceled last minute.”

Pulling a face, you shook your head back at Matt. “So you were going to what? Pretend there was no live-in girlfriend when we came over?”

“No,” he answered firmly. “No, I wouldn’t have kept her a secret. That’s not what I meant, I just meant that I had been intending for tonight to just be the three of us, alright? Sweetheart, I didn’t–”

“Don’t.”

The word came out both sharp and pained as it passed your lips. You could feel something squeezing your heart in your chest as you remembered how he’d just called someone else that right in front of you without a second thought. The tears were burning in your eyes again as you held the gaze of those red lenses which he still hadn’t removed. His lips twitched at the corners in something like a wince at the sound of your voice, his throat visibly bobbing above the neckline of his sweater as he swallowed hard.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Eyes snapping shut, you couldn’t even look at him. A few more tears slipped out, sliding their way gently down your cheeks as you stood there. What the hell were you supposed to say to that? It’s not like it changed anything.

“You left,” he continued quietly. “You left New York.”

Eyes slowly opening, you looked back at Matt through the tears blurring your vision. “You left first,” you breathed out. “That night. After that night. You shut me out, you shut Karen out. You locked yourself away in your apartment. Didn’t answer our calls or our texts. Never opened your door to us. You came to work at the office barely there after you told us you wanted to close the firm.”

Pausing to try to swallow down the lump forming in the back of your throat, one of your hands reached up and wiped at the tears still steadily falling. Matt stood there in front of you with trembling lips, making you wonder if he was tearing up behind those red lenses himself.

“You left first, Matt,” you repeated. “I tried to get through to you for months, but you wouldn’t let me in. And then the firm closed and Karen was leaving to California. I needed a job and I needed the only friend I felt I had left, so I followed her.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry. Just–just stay for dinner. Please.”

“Matt, you know I can’t do that,” you told him, voice pained. “I can’t go back up there and watch you two together. It hurts. Not just to see you with someone else, but seeing you acting like someone else.”

Matt went tense at the accusation, shaking his head once more at you as his jaw clenched tight. You knew he was in denial about what he was doing, how he was handling Foggy’s passing. You knew him far too well to let him lie to you.

“I’m not acting like someone else,” he disagreed. “I’m trying to live my life as Matt Murdock.”

Gesturing a hand sharply at Matt in front of you, you couldn’t fight back the truth as it fell past your lips. “This isn’t you, Matthew. This is you hiding away from your grief instead of facing it. You're burying it deep down and pretending it's not there but it is.”

A bitter scoff left Matt as he readjusted the glasses on the bridge of his nose, those red lenses of his flashing beneath the lights of the lobby. You could see his tongue running over his teeth in frustration behind his closed lips before he continued.

“I’ve been dealing with it,” he countered. “Every damn day.”

“You left Hell’s Kitchen, Matt,” you pointed out. “You’re partnered at some fancy law firm that doesn’t feel like you. Living in a fancy apartment that doesn’t feel like you with a girlfriend who clearly doesn’t really know you. And–” you continued, the words just spilling out of you like the tears still running down your cheeks, “–I’m guessing you still haven’t put the suit back on since that night.”

“You know I can't.”

His words came out dark and quiet, his lips thinning into a straight line. You could see the muscle working in his cheek as he stood there, clearly trying to fight down his own emotions like he'd been doing for more than a year. Part of you felt bad for pushing the subject, but you knew what was going to happen if Matt kept lying to himself.

“You didn't kill either of them,” you whispered, lowering your voice so your conversation couldn't be overheard. “I know you don't believe me, but you didn't, Matt. What happened that night–”

“Can't happen again,” he stated firmly.

Biting your lip, your hands curled into fists at your sides. It was almost impossible to get through to Matt when he'd made up his mind. But you'd seen the news reports since you'd been back in the city. You'd heard about the uptick in crime. About Fisk becoming mayor and wanting to come down hard on vigilantes. You'd heard people wondering about what happened to the Devil. But what hurt was knowing that even if Matt refused to put on his suit and help, he was still hearing the pain and suffering of everyone around him. He couldn't just ignore his senses, and you knew that had to be slowly killing him inside.

“You can't fight that side of yourself forever, Matt,” you told him softly. “You can't run from who you are.”

“That's not who I am,” he snapped, shaking his head. “It's not. Not anymore.”

A small, sad smile tugged at your lips at the blatant lie. You didn't need his heightened hearing to know that it was. Your hand reached out in the space between you both, your fingertips lightly brushing over his soft sweater, just above his heart. You saw him stiffen under your touch.

“The Devil is as a part of you as Matt Murdock is,” you murmured. “And he's a hero to more people than you realize. You can't keep him locked away, and you can't keep lying to yourself. It's only hurting you more.”

Your eyes dropped down to where you were touching him, a tense silence following your words. Slowly, your hand fell away from his chest and back to your side, but you noticed the tension and fight had eased out of him almost immediately, as if your touch had briefly soothed something inside of him.

“Please just come back up for dinner,” he begged again, emotion thick in his words. “Please don't go.”

His words were like a knife to the heart, the pleading note of them only adding to the pain. But you knew you couldn't follow him back up there. You couldn't put a smile on your face and pretend like your heart wasn't breaking all over again at the sight of him with another woman. A woman who didn't truly know him yet had someone gotten close enough to move in.

“I can't, Matty,” you said, noticing how he flinched at the name. Taking a step back, you fought to keep yourself together, not wanting to break down here in the lobby of his apartment building. “I can't do that.”

“Please,” he begged.

A single tear slipped out from beneath his glasses, the sight of it causing you to take another abrupt step back. This hurt so damn much, but you knew going back up with him would only hurt even more.

“Take care of yourself, Matthew,” you said softly.

Biting down on your cheek, you turned and forced yourself to walk away from him. Throwing a hand over your mouth to muffle your sobs, you headed towards the building's exit and attempted to keep your composure. Just until you could get back to the privacy of your hotel room. But it was so hard to hold yourself together when that same painful thought kept repeating in your mind with every step that continued to grow the distance between the two of you.

He wasn't your Matty anymore.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock #matt murdock x you #daredevil #ddba spoilers

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matt-murdockk · 14 days ago

Text

Stealth

pairing: matt murdock x Black Widow!fem!reader

words: 3.5k

summary: Retired from your old life, you had comfortably settled down at Hell's Kitchen running a bookstore next to Nelson & Murdock. When your past comes knocking at your door again, you pray to god it doesn't affect your relationship with Matt.

warnings: cussing, lack of proofreading (rip), canon typical violence, it’s mostly action, fluff, and comedy

a/n: going through the matt drafts like my life depends on it lmaooooo enjoy <3

——————————————————————————————————

Blood dripped from your busted lip as you looked up from your knees, another blow snapping your head to the side. Your assailant loomed above you, fists still clenched, breathing heavy. You laughed at him, knowing that even after his efforts and all that he's putting you through, he is either going to walk away without the information he's in search of, or he's not going to be able to walk away at all.

"I'm asking you one last time, bitch. Where is she?"

"Go to hell," you sneered, your voice dripping with malice.

Before he could react, you surged upward, slamming your shoulder into his gut. He stumbled back with a grunt— off balance just long enough for you to twist, swing your leg out, and sweep his feet from under him. He hit the ground hard, and you didn’t give him time to recover. You dropped your weight on his chest, drove your knee into his ribs, then slammed your forehead into his nose with a sickening crack.

He yelled, tried to shove you off, but you were faster— rolled to your side, hooked your tied wrists under his chin, and yanked back with everything you had. His head snapped back. The struggle was short. One last jerk, and he slumped beneath you, out cold.

You sat there for a moment, breathing hard, blood on your tongue and your pulse roaring in your ears. You managed to free your hands, the binds falling away. Instinctively, you brought one hand up to rub at the angry, red mark circling your opposite wrist— thumb pressing into the sore skin as you exhaled through your nose, steadying yourself.

Slowly but carefully, you staggered towards the dresser and pulled out the burner phone you had stashed away, to be used only in case of emergencies. You called the only other number on the phone, your voice strained but low.

"Yelena. We have a problem."

——————————————————————————————————

"Mac and cheese? I make really good mac and cheese."

"No, Yelena. I'm good."

"Suit yourself."

You sat at the counter of your kitchen, icing your split lip. Yelena rummaged through the pantry, letting out a satisfied 'a-ha' when she found a box of Kraft mac and cheese tucked all the way at the back. You know, the usual routine after you get rid of a body with your colleague from ages ago.

"So, is now a good time for you to tell me why a guy broke into my apartment asking for you, or..."

"You sure you don't want my mac and cheese? Trust me, it's really—"

"Yelena."

"Alright, fine. I may be on the run from the Ranskahov brothers."

You exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down your face, jaw tight and eyes closing in defeat. "You're what?"

"It is no big deal, I can deal with it."

"No big deal? Yelena, a man broke into my apartment at midnight and we just got rid of his unconscious body."

"Your point being?"

"Wh— This is a big deal!" you exclaimed, unable to comprehend how she was so relaxed about it.

"Relax, Sunshine. I got this under control, I promise."

You stared at her, slack-jawed. “Clearly, you don’t. I just took a punch to the face in my own apartment because of your mess.”

She shrugged, unfazed as she stirred the mac and cheese with a wooden spoon. “Well, technically he was already in your apartment. You were just... surprised to see him.”

You set the ice pack down with a thud. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Oh, come on,” she said, grinning. “What happened to that sharp reflexes, stone-cold killer, don’t-mess-with-me energy? Getting soft?”

You narrowed your eyes. “You think I’m out of touch?”

Yelena tilted her head, weighing it. “You’ve been... domesticated.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Try me.”

She considered you for a beat, then gave a small, amused nod. “Alright. Point taken.”

You leaned back, arms folded. “Let’s end this. You and me. Whatever's left of the Ranskahov crew— we shut it down.”

Yelena raised her hands in mock surrender. “Your words, not mine. I’m just here for emotional support and cheese.”

Then, a beat passed. She stirred the pot idly, quieter now. “You sure you're up for this?”

You gave her a look.

“No, I mean really,” she said. “You're not worried about the lawyer finding out?”

You froze, just for a second.

“It’s been, what— five, six months?” Yelena added, not unkindly. “You think he’s gonna notice if you disappear for a day or two?”

You glanced down at the counter. “It’s not about him noticing.”

Yelena shrugged. “So what is it?”

You didn’t answer right away. The silence between you filled with the soft bubbling of the stovetop and your pulse in your ears.

“It’s just... different now,” you said finally.

Yelena gave you a knowing look. “I mean, no one’s gonna know. It’s what we do, isn’t it?”

You looked up at her.

“Ghost in, ghost out. We finish what we started.”

“Let the record show,” you said, getting to your feet, “I’m helping because you nearly got me killed. Again.”

“Let the record also show,” she said, sliding a bowl across the counter to you, “I did not ask for help.”

You took the bowl, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself— soft, almost reminiscent. There was something familiar about the moment. The crappy mac and cheese. The bruises. The adrenaline still fading from your bloodstream. For a second, it felt like the old days. Like the good parts in between the hell you went through.

Yelena caught the look immediately. “Aha,” she said, pointing the spoon at you. “You missed this.”

“Shut up.”

——————————————————————————————————

The next afternoon, your shop smelled like cinnamon and dust— paperbacks piled on mismatched shelves, the old ceiling fan overhead rattling faintly in protest. In complete contrast to your past, you had made quite a home for yourselves at a cosy little corner of hell's kitchen, snuggled right next to the Nelson & Murdock office.

Matt sat across from you at the little table in the back corner, his cane resting against the chair, his jacket draped on the back of it.

The two of you had made a habit of lunching here once or twice a week— sometimes with food, sometimes with nothing but stubborn cases and terrible coffee. Today it was takeout from the Thai place around the block.

You pushed your noodles around with your fork, watching him sip his tea like it wasn’t hot enough to melt steel.

“So,” Matt said casually, “about tonight— I was going to ask if we could rain check.”

You blinked. “Oh— yeah. I was going to say the same thing. I’ve got some errands to run."

He nodded. “Foggy dropped a mountain of files on my desk this morning. I’ll be chained to the office most of the night.”

He said it too neatly. No stammer. No sigh. No frustration about the files. Just a clean, compact sentence, tied with a bow.

Your eyes narrowed— just barely. There it was. That was his tell. You almost knew it by heart now. He didn’t fidget, didn’t shift in his seat. He stilled. Too polished. Too calm.

He was lying.

You smiled like you believed him.

“That’s a shame,” you said lightly, taking a sip of your water. “I was kind of looking forward to it.”

“I was too,” he said, and he meant it— just not the way he said.

You nodded and changed the subject, let it drop between you like nothing had happened. If he noticed anything off in your tone, he didn’t show it. Eventually, he gathered his things and stood.

“I’ll call you later?” he offered.

“Yeah,” you said, standing with him. “We’ll pick a better night.”

He reached for his jacket, adjusted the fold of his cane, and turned to leave— when the bell above the door jingled.

Yelena stepped inside, sunglasses perched in her hair, a paper bag in one hand and a too-innocent smile on her face.

“Aw, look at this. My two favorite nerds.”

Matt paused mid-step. “Yelena.”

“Mr. Murdock,” she said brightly. “Fancy seeing you here. Hope I’m not interrupting any... legal bonding.”

You deadpanned. “You are. But don’t let that stop you.”

Matt chuckled under his breath. “I’ll leave you to it.”

You watched him leave— pausing just long enough to lean in and press a soft kiss to your lips, quick and warm, like punctuation at the end of a long sentence. Then he was gone.

Yelena waited a full beat after the door shut before turning to you with a look.

“You lied to him, didn’t you?”

You picked up your half-finished drink and took a long sip. “Only because he lied first.”

Yelena looked thrilled. “Ohhh, this is gonna be fun.”

——————————————————————————————————

The docks reeked of salt and rust, the fog rolling in heavy over the water like it had something to hide. Yelena crouched beside you behind a stack of shipping containers, her braid pulled tight, her knives already slick with someone else's blood.

"Four more on the upper level," she said, voice low and steady.

"Two by the crates, one pacing by the boat," you added. "Third’s probably on lookout.”

Yelena grinned. “Just like Budapest.”

“I’m not reminiscing with you while hiding and smelling like fish.”

You were already moving— silent, efficient. Two guards down in under a minute. A third turned, startled, just in time to catch Yelena’s elbow in the face.

You were halfway to the second stack when a thud hit the ground behind you. A figure in red.

You turned, ready to strike.

"Easy," came the familiar voice.

Your heart skipped once. Just once.

Daredevil.

Yelena straightened beside you, blade still in hand. “Dude. What the hell.”

“I’m not here to get in the way, I swear,” Daredevil said, tone even, unreadable. “We could work together.”

You exchanged a look with Yelena. Her brows lifted, daring you to call the shots.

"Fine," you said. “Just, don’t slow us down.”

He nodded once, readying himself— then tilted his head slightly in Yelena’s direction.

“She's new. Who’s your friend?”

Yelena smirked, stepping past him with a gleam in her eye. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

And then you moved— no time for anything else.

The fight was fast, chaotic— muffled grunts, broken bones, steel against skin. You worked like you'd never left the field. Knife, fist, elbow. Yelena at your side. And Daredevil... flanking, striking, always just in the right place at the right time.

But that was the problem.

He was too good.

He moved like he didn’t even need to look at the layout. God knows if he can even see anything through that mask. Dodged a swing from behind without looking. Tilted his head slightly every time someone approached, like he heard them coming—

And when you shouted, “Duck!” mid-sweep, he reacted a beat faster than sight could manage.

Your chest went cold.

Blind. Bruises. Lies. His voice. Your eyes locked on his masked face mid-spin and suddenly, everything clicked.

Holy shit.

Holy. Shit.

Matt.

You didn’t miss a beat— kept fighting, didn’t let it show. But you knew. And he didn’t know you knew.

And Matt? He was noticing things too.

The precision in your hits. The way you landed without sound. Your balance. Your calm. The way your heartbeat never spiked, even in the thick of blood and noise.

He’d heard it before— more than once, in quieter moments. In the space between conversations at your bookstore, when you handed him a cup of coffee and your fingers brushed his. In the office, when you laughed at something Foggy said and tried to hide it behind a file. He’d memorized your rhythm without ever meaning to.

And now, in the chaos, it was unmistakable. His chest clenched mid-fight.

You.

The realization hit him like a punch to the ribs, followed by an actual punch to the ribs. He quickly recovered and retaliated, still lost in his thoughts.

That was you moving beside him— calculated, silent, lethal.

You weren’t supposed to be here. You weren’t supposed to be like this. But you were. You moved like someone who didn’t just know violence— you had lived in it. Adapted to it. Survived it. He could hear it in the way you breathed, the way you anticipated hits like you'd studied the fight before it even started.

It clicked halfway through the second wave of men— when you threw your body in front of his and took a hit that should’ve been his. You winced, gritted your teeth, and kept moving like nothing happened.

He ducked under a pipe and drove his fist into a man’s gut, head spinning now for a different reason. You weren’t just the girl next door with the most cozy bookstore in the world.

You were trained. Conditioned. Deadly.

Widow, he thought. Of course. Of course, you’re a Widow.

The realization didn’t slow him down— if anything, it made him faster. He pivoted to cover your blind side just as you lunged forward to disarm the final gunman. Back-to-back, two silent protectors tangled in a storm of fists and steel and fury.

The last guy went down hard. Silence followed. Heavy breathing, the clatter of a gun skidding across the dock. You turned to look at Daredevil—

But he was already gone. Just like that.

Yelena jogged up behind you, wiping blood off her knife with a rag. “Okay,” she panted. “That was not part of the plan, but it was less of a shit show than I expected."

You stared at the empty space where he’d vanished.

Your heart was still racing, but for a very different reason now.

“I… I think I know who that was,” you murmured.

Yelena raised an eyebrow. “Well? Don’t leave me hanging.”

You turned to her slowly, wide-eyed.

“Dude,” you said breathlessly. “You’re not gonna believe this.”

——————————————————————————————————

You slammed the door behind you, tossed your keys into the bowl by the entrance, and stood there for a second, wide-eyed and winded.

Matt. Murdock. Was. Daredevil.

You turned slowly to look at Yelena, who was flopped dramatically on your couch, one boot already off, the other halfway dangling.

"Okay," you said, pacing. "Okay. Okay."

Yelena raised a brow. “That’s a lot of okays.”

“He knows. He knows it’s me.”

"Did he say that?"

"No. But— he was there. Fighting next to me. You don’t just forget a person’s rhythm like that.”

“Alright, Mr Miyagi, calm down,” Yelena muttered. “Did he see your face?”

“No.”

“Then he doesn’t know,” she said with finality, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl she'd found somehow. “But you know he’s Daredevil?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Well... that’s fun,” Yelena said. “Kinky. Do you guys roleplay in the suit?”

You threw a cushion at her.

She ducked it easily, grinning. “Relax, Sunshine. He doesn’t know. We’ll deal with it in the morning.”

The next morning

You woke up to a single text on your phone.

Matt: We need to talk.

Your stomach dropped.

You stared at the screen for a full minute, then looked at Yelena, who was eating cereal out of your favorite mug like it was her house.

“He knows,” you said, voice flat.

She peered over the rim of the mug. “About the Widowing or the lying or the whole knife ballet by the docks?”

“All of it.”

Yelena snorted. “You’re being dramatic. He’s a man. I promise you he noticed nothing.

——————————————————————————————————

He didn’t knock.

You looked up from the counter of your shop just in time to see Matt step through the door— coat slung over one arm, jaw tight, his whole presence coiled and deliberate like he’d been rehearsing this confrontation all the way over. Your chest tightened. Behind the mystery section, Yelena dropped into a crouch like she was on mission.

“Hey,” you said cautiously.

Matt held up his phone. “Got your message.”

You blinked. “I didn’t—”

He arched an eyebrow.

“Right. That message.”

He moved to the counter, leaning forward just slightly. Trying to keep it civil. It wasn’t working.

“You lied to me.”

You crossed your arms. “You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

“Fair enough,” he said flatly. “Last night. The ‘errands’ that somehow involved you taking out the entire Ranskahov crew with a very familiar blonde.”

Yelena’s voice drifted from behind the shelves: “Rude, I was extremely subtle.”

“You stabbed someone while humming Toxic, Yelena,” Matt said flatly.

“It’s called multi-tasking,” she shot back. "Wait, how'd you know I am blonde?"

Matt exhaled sharply through his nose, frustration leaking through his carefully even tone. “I thought I could trust you.”

You blinked, surprised by the weight behind the words.

“I don’t understand why you’d lie to me about something like this,” he went on. “You disappeared for a night, showed up in the middle of a takedown like it was routine, and didn’t think I’d figure it out?”

You crossed your arms, jaw tightening. “Pot, meet kettle.”

Matt’s brow creased. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve been lying to me for months, Matt,” you snapped, eyes narrowing. “So forgive me if I don’t feel guilty for keeping one thing to myself.”

Yelena’s voice chimed in helpfully from behind the shelf. “Technically two things. You also said you were allergic to cats and we both know that’s a lie.”

Matt didn’t even look in her direction. “This isn’t the same, (Y/n).”

“No?” you shot back. “Because I remember you brushing off every bruise, every night you vanished, every time I found blood on your shirt. But when I keep something close to the chest, suddenly it’s a betrayal?”

He looked away for a beat, jaw clenched. You stepped around the counter, folding your arms. “Yeah. So let’s not throw stones, Daredevil.”

Yelena raised a hand. “I’d like to throw one.”

“Shush,” you and Matt both said in unison.

“You really want to stand there and pretend like you’re on the moral high ground, Matt?”

Yelena popped her head up just long enough to say, “Oooh, he’s going to need ice for that burn,” then ducked back down.

Matt turned back toward you slowly, the fight draining from his posture, replaced by something quieter. Something closer to hurt.

“I’m not mad that you can handle yourself,” he said, softer now. “I’m mad that you didn’t let me in. That you didn’t think I could take it.”

You stared at him for a moment, then sighed. “Funny. I could say the same thing.”

Yelena coughed meaningfully. “Anyway, since we’re all being honest now, can I get a ruling on whether this is a breakup or foreplay?”

You and Matt both groaned.

Matt turned toward her. “Do you have to be here for this?”

“Yes,” you and Yelena said at the same time.

You exhaled through your nose, some of the tension bleeding out of your shoulders. “I didn’t keep it from you because I didn’t trust you,” you said, voice quieter now. “I kept it from you because I didn’t want to ruin this. Whatever this is.”

Matt nodded slowly, like he understood— because he did. “Yeah. I know the feeling.”

A beat passed.

“I just didn’t want you in this world,” Matt said after a moment. “Not this part of it.”

You sighed. “I know. And I didn’t want you to see that side of me, either. Not if I didn’t have to.”

A pause. Something gentler settled between you.

“So what now?” you asked. “We just… go back to pretending we’re two normal people who work too much and flirt in the office kitchen?”

Matt smiled faintly. “That wasn’t pretending.”

You mirrored it. “Fair.”

He shifted on his feet. “We’re both good at lying. Maybe too good. But I don’t want to lie to you anymore.”

“Me either.”

Another pause, not quite awkward. Just full.

From behind the shelf: “Boring. Now either make out or fuck. I need to know what genre this is.”

You and Matt turned to her in sync.

“Get out,” you both said.

Yelena grinned. “Love you too.”

She made for the door with a dramatic little bow. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” you muttered.

After the door shut behind her, the silence felt warmer. Softer. Matt was still observing you, his expression a little looser now, the storm behind his eyes finally settling. You stepped into his space without thinking. His arms slid around you like they’d been waiting for exactly this.

Your cheek pressed lightly against his chest. “Well,” you murmured, “now what?”

Matt’s hand traced a slow line up your spine. “She gave us options before she left.”

You glanced up at him. “Options? Sounded more like a to-do list to me.”

A small, crooked smile tugged at his lips. “In that case, I have some ideas.”

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goldenlikedayl1ght · 1 month ago

Text

what is this feeling? | m. murdock

MAJOR DAREDEVIL: BORN AGAIN SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT!!!!!

a/n: here's my swing at an angsty but cute daredevil born again fic!! hope y'all like it, i think it's alright although the pacing is kinda meh, but. oh well! i like it so i hope you do too. enjoy!! warnings: uhm. SPOILERS FOR DDBA!!!!!!!!!! please head that warning!! lots of fighting, yearning, enemies to lovers, matt is mean and has a moment where he yells at her. then theres a lot of hurt/comfort, lots of softness, a bit of making out. i dunno it's what i got! lots of cursing, strange office behavior, matt and reader have an odd dynamic, kinda implied age gap? wordcount: 3.8k summary: you're pretty sure your boss hates you. pairing: dd:ba!matt murdock x reader now playing: what is this feeling? - wicked "what is this feeling?/fervid as a flame?/does it have a name?/yes/loathing/unadulterated loathing."

All Matt does is mope.

It annoys Kirsten deeply.

He was the one who wanted to open this firm with her, after..

Well, everything.

Maybe mope is the wrong word. Matt’s not moping, he’s mourning.

Mourning everything, even the things Kirsten doesn’t know about—Mourning Foggy, mourning Daredevil, mourning the relationship he had with Karen, mourning the firm.. Mourning the life he had. Mourning the person he had become.

So Matt throws everything he has into Murdock & McDuffie, because he’s not Daredevil anymore. He’s not anyone’s friend. What else is there?

But it’s starting to have a negative impact on his work.

Because all he does is work! All he does is talk to clients, do paperwork, talk in court, and mourn. He’s beginning to slip. He’s not sleeping, he’s barely eating. His work is suffering because of it, and Kirsten has not come this far to let Matt falter like this.

She knows he’s grieving. She knows he misses Foggy. Misses his entire life. But she knows this isn’t sustainable.

So, she hires you.

You’re a twenty something year old English Major, fresh out of college, with.. no real idea of what you want to do. And no job.

Kirsten, a family friend, tells you her new law firm needs an office assistant. The pay’s pretty good, she tells you, and the office is pretty. All you must do is get Mr. Murdock to his appointments.

Get him coffee.

Tell him a joke.

Ignore how he ignores you.

You show up to your first day of work with a bright smile, a donut for your new boss, and ambition.

Kirsten opens Matt’s door without knocking, smiling as she steps in.

“Who’s this?” he wonders.

“Our new office assistant,” You try to ignore the frown that tugs at his lips when he finds this out.

You hold out your hand to him, giving him your name. He doesn’t stand from his chair when he shakes your hand.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to talk, I have a meeting with a client,” And before either of you can say anything, Kirsten is gone.

“Listen, I—”

“I brought you a donut,” You offer. Matt smiles a bit, but you can tell it’s forced.

“Thank you. You’re sweet, but..” he hesitates. “I don’t really need a secretary.”

“I’m not your secretary; I’m the office assistant.” Matt raises his eyebrows, and you feel your face flush. “Fine, Kirsten hired me to be your secretary, but she did hire me. I want to work here—For you.”

“I’m sure Kirsten has lots of things for you to worry about that aren’t me.” He promises.

You glance down to the small donut box you’re holding in your hand. Then, you place it on his slightly messy desk.

“Well, I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”

Matt doubts that he will, but he forces a smile in your direction anyways.

Silence. Schedules. Phone calls. More silence.

Weeks pass like this.

You’re beginning to feel like you don’t deserve to be paid for this, half the time you just sit around doing crosswords or sudoku until Kirsten can come up with something for you to do.

You wait for Mr. Murdock to notice you like a puppy, always glancing over to his office.

You think he might hate you. He’s never outright said as much, but he acts like it. The coffee you make causes him to grimace. The research you do is never good enough. And Kirsten does her best, pestering Matt to engage and giving you things to do..

But there’s only so much she can do. So, there are some days where you sit around writing ideas and brainstorming, always thinking about writing.

After two weeks, you’re yet to start using your free time to write on the side.. But after a particularly bad Wednesday morning..

You were just there to take notes at the firm’s general morning meeting. You want to get down anything important, hating all the nervous energy you have. You’re ignoring the way Matt’s thigh feels against yours.

Then, Matt leans over to you, and whispers against your ear, sending a chill down your spine,

“You know, you don’t really need to be here, I can get my notes from someone else—”

From down the table, you hear giggles, and you glance over to see two of the younger, more annoying new attorneys laughing and whispering to each other, all while looking at you and Matt.

Something snaps inside of you.

What the fuck was this, High School?

Why do you tolerate this bullshit?

You nod, turning your head towards Matt.

“You’re right. I don’t need to be here.” Then, with a quiet, ‘excuse me’, you pick up your things, stare straight ahead and go to your desk.

The meeting room goes kind of quiet, every one of them wondering if this was the epiphany you needed, to stop letting yourself be pushed around so often.

Meanwhile, your brain is committed to one thought:

Don’t cry, Don’t cry, Don’t cry—

You manage to make it to your desk, turn your head away from your colleagues, before the tears finally fall. You wipe them quickly and inhale and exhale slowly.

So everyone thinks you’re a fucking pushover who’s just letting Matt hate you so intensely, so what?

You take a deep breath in.

You exhale.

You open Linkedin and update your resume, before browsing for jobs. You apply to one or two.

You do this all day. You don’t get up from your desk, you don’t bring Mr. Murdock coffee, you don’t ask Kirsten what you can do for her, you don’t even respond when Matt asks you if you want anything from his thai food place, his treat.

You do some work, because you’re afraid of getting fired, but you just scribble down emails and addresses and pros and cons of staying, and you focus intensely at the task at hand.

You don’t even hear his footsteps as he approaches, all you hear is—

“Boo!”

You jump, gripping the arms of your swivel chair. You quickly spin around to be met with Matt. Anger burns within you.

“What the hell is your problem?!” You glare.

Matt laughs.

“What? I scared you?”

“Oh, fuck off,” You spit, and then you cover your mouth, your eyes wide. You’re mortified!

Matt just smiles and offers you the bag of, admittedly delicious smelling, thai food.

“You know, I like you better when you don’t let people walk all over you. It’s a better look.” He hums, and you take the food.

“..Thanks.”

“No problem.” He pauses, “But this doesn’t mean I need a secretary, I can still do all my own work,”

“Yeah, I figured as much.” You say bitterly.

“What’re you doing, anyways?”

You don’t hesitate to respond because he deserves this—

“Looking at job listings.” He pauses, as if caught off guard by your honesty.

“Maybe you should stick around, things’ll get easier.” He taps his cane on the ground, and you try to name the emotion inside you.

“Maybe.” Is all you respond before you turn back to your desk and start working.

After that, you hold no reserves about spending the hours that Matt ignores you writing. And you, of course, hear no objections from him.

After that, you and Matt are not quite.. enemies.. Well, you never were, but.. things aren’t as hostile as they were before. Occasionally, He’ll listen to you when you give input on a client. Occasionally, he’ll ask you if you want any coffee from the place down the street.

This is the closest the two of you get to a love language or a back and forth—Coffee and notes.

One day, you decide to clean his office while he’s out.

It’s an innocent gesture—Something to try and convince him that you can be useful, when given the opportunity!

You start by taking out the trash, making sure not to mess with any important documents. You note how barren his office is—Compared to your desk full of trinkets, at least. You suppose it makes sense, for a blind man not to concern himself with decorating.

You hang his scarf on a hook on the wall, noting the soft texture.

You don’t even mean to find it.

You just pick it up off his desk, and you’re reading it before you can stop yourself.

The picture on the card depicts a blonde man with a kind smile, handsome, too.

‘In loving memory of Franklin Nelson’ is as far as you get when the door swings open, and Matt is standing in the doorway to the office.

“Oh! Sorry—I was just trying to clean up before you got back from your meeting and—

“What are you holding?” You suspect he already knows based off how he asks, but you’re not sure how. Maybe it’s that important to him, but you’ve noticed that he knows things, weird things. But you have no time to think about that now.

“I found it on your desk,” You hold it out to him and as soon as his finger runs over the braille on the card, you watch his shoulders tense. “I’m so sorry, I just—”

“Never touch this!” He snaps, and you stop, taken aback. “Never ever touch this, do you realize how important this is? What would’ve happened if you lost it or threw it out?!” He steps towards you as he raises his voice, “This isn’t for you! Never come into my office without permission again, and never fucking touch this, do you understand?!” He yells, and when you don’t answer, he yells louder—“Do you understand me?!”

Silence.

Then, a whimper escapes your lips as you cover your mouth, tears already running down your face. You quickly place the card back on the desk, before speed walking out of his office, hot, thick tears running down your face.

You’re so fucked, you think. You’re going to get fired. As if you hadn’t spent weeks getting paid to do practically nothing, you’re absolutely going to get fired now. Maybe you should just quit, save yourself the embarrassment, or, maybe you can get on your hands and knees—Absolutely beg Matt to forgive you.

You feel awful. You had heard bits and pieces of what had happened to the man on the card, of how it affected Matt. How they were best friends. How they had their own firm together. How that was destroyed in a matter of minutes.

And sure, Matt’s been a dick to you for a while now, but you have an intense empathy for him. You couldn’t even imagine how he feels.

You grab your jacket and your bag, and then you walk straight back to your apartment. You assume you’re fired. But instead of worrying about it or applying to more jobs, You open a big bottle of wine and sit with the record player on. You keep thinking about how fucked you are.

You fall asleep on your couch, still in your work clothes.

You wake up to your phone buzzing and the sun in your eyes. You glance at the caller ID, only to find.. Kirsten calling you. Probably to chew you out.

“Hello..?” You answer hesitantly, your head pounding.

“Hey, where are you? You’re usually here an hour ago,” You glance at the time. You’re not late, but you’re chronically early. “Everything okay?”

“Uh,” Then, it hits you.

Kirsten isn’t calling to chew you out. So, that means..

Matt didn’t fire you. He didn’t even tell her.

“Sorry,” You finally answer, “I slept through my alarm, but I’ll be there soon.” You tell her. You two say goodbye, and then, you take a second to breath, then, make a plan.

First, you chug a bottle of water, along with a dosage of ibuprofen. Then, you hop in the shower and change, before grabbing your things and making your into the office. Everyone continues what they’re doing, business as usual. You say nothing to anyone as you settle in. You feel crazy, like you’re not in on some joke.

Then, as you’re shuffling around, Matt appears in the door of his office. He calls your name. You jump, tightening your grip on your chair.

“Can we talk a second?”

“Uh, sure.” Your heartbeat is loud, thumping quickly.

You make it into his office and sit on a chair in front of his desk, as he leans against the desk next to you.

Then, he leans back to the desk and picks something up. Then, he hands it to you—and relief washes over you as you realize it’s a coffee.

You take it.

“Thank you.” You say genuinely, talking a long sip of coffee.

“Two splenda and half n half, right?”

You glance up at him.

“How do you know my coffee order?”

“Despite what you think, I pay attention.” He reveals. You feel silly.

You open your mouth to begin,

“I’m so—”

He holds up a hand, a quiet command to be quiet. Closing your mouth and waiting for him to speak is your first reaction, and you’re not sure how to feel about it.

“I’m sorry.” He breathes in, “I’ve been a dick to you, and last night I took it too far. You were just being kind and you didn’t know.”

“I shouldn’t have tried to push your boundaries,” You offer. He shakes his head.

“I’ve been mean every day since we first met. You don’t deserve that.” He inhales, “I’ve been such a dick because I’ve been.. stuck and stubborn, because the guy on the prayer card.. He was a..” Matt’s jaw clenches and he tilts his head away from you.

You don’t need Matt to finish. His grief, his love for Franklin Nelson, whoever he was, has outlived him. And it radiates off him in this moment.

“Can I ask you a question?” Your voice is quiet. Matt just nods. “And you can’t laugh at me or tell me I’m being an idiot, or—Whatever, you just have to answer.”

Matt’s lips just twinge up, only a bit.

“Mhm?”

A beat.

“..Can I give you a hug?” You wonder, and he just nods, and before his head is able to pick back up, your arms are wrapped around him. You squeeze tightly, and Matt returns your embrace. Your hand gently rubs his back as Matt lets himself be held for the firs time.. in, well, months.

The two of you stay like this for a while, before you pull away. Your hands come up to cup his face, wiping his tears from his face, resisting the urge to pull off his glasses to dry his eyes.

When his tears stall, you finally break the silence.

“Are you gonna be okay if I go back to work? I can stay here if you want me, but—”

“No.” He shakes his head, “Go ahead, go back to work. But, can I tell you a secret?”

“Hm?”

“Now that you’re my new secretary, I’m gonna have to whip you into shape,” He teases.

You pull away, swatting his chest lightly before grabbing your coffee.

“I hate you. Don’t bother me.” You joke back.

“I do really need the case notes on the Jason family and I need to know when my first meeting is,” He says as you walk out the door.

“10 am. I’ll get you the notes in five minutes, tops.”

Matt smiles as he goes back to his seat and begins to search for his headphones.

“Thank you, kid,”

“Oh, I hate that.” You call back.

Matt just laughs.

Yeah, maybe you’ll stick around for a couple more weeks. Just to see.

It happens slowly at first.

You’re hesitant to engage with each other, suddenly not used to this.

His foot nudges against yours under the table at meetings. Sometimes on accident. Most of the time on purpose.

You bring him a breakfast sandwich.

He listens as you cry to him about an annoying witness you were assisting.

He touches your arm. You ignore a familiar, unnamed feeling.

You’re not sure when exactly you start to fall in love with him. But once you do, you find it impossible to stop.

You begin to fall asleep thinking about him whisking you away. Maybe just downtown. Maybe just to his office with the blinds closed and the door locked. Maybe to Scotland, to a castle where the two of you become the finest rulers in the land.

You find yourself just staring at him, and you’re right back to waiting for him like a lost puppy. You suppose there are worse fates than this.

Really, it’s not that bad.

You can just be a hopeless puppy following him around for the rest of your life. That’ll be fine. You tell yourself you’ll be fine.

Just ignore the way your stomach turns as Kirsten talks near your desk, just yapping about a date she went on, and then, out of nowhere, she asks,

“So what’re you looking for?”

“Huh?” You wonder, not fully paying attention.

“If you could go on a date with the perfect person, what would they be like?”

Your reaction is instantaneous. It’s instinctual. It’s incriminating.

Your head picks up, and your eyes lock onto Matt from across the office. He’s just shuffling through some old documents, but the way he focuses so intensely, a smile creeps up on your face before you can stop it.

When you realize what you’ve done, your eyes go wide, and you realize that Kirsten has followed your eyeline.

She starts to laugh.

“I knew it!”

“No, no! Kirsten,” You say, your voice now wobbly, “Kirsten, listen, you cannot say anything, you don’t know anything, just—” You’re panicking, because if Kirsten has found you out, your secret is no longer safe. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Don’t tell Matt you—”

“Shhhut up!” You whine, your hands covering your face. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

You’re so fucked.

Why do you keep thinking that in this office?

“Why? What would be so bad about—”

“I swear to god,”

“You won’t even let me say it out loud!” She laughs, and you feel pathetic.

“No, I won’t!”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m just going to ignore it.”

“What?! Why?!”

“Because he has spent the past couple of months being mean to me and we’re only now starting to be nice to each other, I highly doubt he wants anything to do with me.”

“You know there’s this old saying,”

“I’m so sick of this conversation.” You grumble as you stand, gathering your things, and placing the list of Matt’s meetings on the top of it, preparing to make your way to his office.

“You’ll never know unless you try.” She finishes. You look to her. Then, you glance back to Matt.

“Just promise me you won’t say anything.”

“Promise me you will.”

You don’t respond, but you do knock on Matt’s door before you enter. Despite his apology and the relationship you’ve been developing, his words still ring in your head—Don’t come into his office without permission.

He answers, so you go in, and immediately, something in you relaxes.

“Hey, sweetheart,” You pretend he’s being more than friendly, “What’s up?”

“Uh,” You breath out, “I got your meeting schedule.” You offer him, and he smiles.

“Thanks. Did you get my email about the expert witness for the Doyle trial?”

“Yeah, I did. I’ll keep an eye out for a follow up. Don’t forget, it’s that intern, Sarah’s birthday, so say happy birthday.” You remind.

“Oh, right. Sarah.. She’s.. the one with the crush on me? She giggles every time I enter a room?”

You furrow your eyebrows.

“Yeah, I guess she does have a bit of a crush on you. Are you.. going to do anything about that?” You ask, as if you’re not brimming with jealousy.

He laughs.

“No, no. Date a coworker? It would get.. messy.” He blushes like he speaks from experience.

“Oh.” You attempt to hide your disappointment. You don’t do a very good job. “Okay, let me know if you need anything.” You smile weakly and turn to leave.

You stop in the doorway. You turn back to him.

“You would date me though, right?”

His head picks up immediately. He smiles a bit.

“What exactly are you asking me?”

“I’m your coworker, sure, but.. you’d date me, right?” You wonder.

His grin widens.

“Are you asking me out on a date?” He wonders, and gets up from his spot at his desk, taking a few steps towards you. You meet him in the middle, your hands coming out to smooth his tie.

“Do you want me to be asking you on a date?”

“As long as it’s not out to Chinese, I just had that last night.” He responds, and you roll your eyes with affection.

“Italian?”

“Overrated for a first date.”

“French?”

“No, I’m Irish, actually.”

“Oh my god, Matthew.”

“Okay, okay. Thai?”

“Perfect.” Of course, You don’t care where you get dinner. You just want to get dinner with him.

And you almost kiss him, right then and there, but you tell yourself that in front of all your coworkers? In this office with these giant offices?

“Let’s go right after work. We can leave together, around six?” He asks, and you can’t help but smile.

“Perfect.” You repeat.

By five forty-five, your last coworker to leave heads out, leaving just you and Matthew waiting for six. At five fifty, you pull your jacket on.

At five fifty-three, Matt comes out of his office, and smiles to you.

“Ready to go?”

“Ready.” You smile, and Matt holds out his arm, quietly asking you to guide him. You happily take it, and begin to ask, “Thai, right? Could I toss in sushi as an option or—”

You don’t get to finish your sentence, because Matt leans his case next to your desk, before cupping your face with his free hand, and pressing his lips against yours, finally doing what he had been craving for months.

You tense at first, then you melt into the kiss, your hands wrapping around his tie before pulling him closer. It comes naturally to you, and you’re beginning to wonder why you waited so long to do this.

He deepens the kiss and for a moment before pulling away, his lips brushing against yours.

“Do you know how badly I want to skip dinner and take you right back to my apartment?”

“Why don’t you?”

“Because you’re the best thing that’s happened to me in months, I don’t.. I don’t want to ruin it. I don’t want to even risk it..” he confesses, “So I want to take you out to a nice dinner, kiss you until you’re unable to think.. Then take you back to my apartment.”

You breath out deeply.

“One more kiss, and then we’ll go,”

Matt answers by kissing you again, his hands going to gently nudge you against your desk, unable to stop kissing you.

But, he hears no objections from you.

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