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chvoswxtch · 1 year ago

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AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

I don’t have coherent enough thoughts to express just how down bad I am for this man 🫠🫠🫠

Drunk on You (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! Court, aka @chvoswxtch, is a talented genius amazing superstar talent whose fic "ours." has consumed my mind all week and has inspired me. I hope I've done you proud, and I hope you like it! :)

Summary: Yours and Matt's relationship is still relatively new, but it's different in every conceivable way, and it's amazing. His plans for a nice romantic night in, however, get thrown for a loop before you arrive, and all he can think of is you.

Warnings: Fluff, Foggy and Karen being Foggy and Karen, shameless smut (talk of birth control and side effects, f!receiving oral, fingering, m!receiving oral, protected p in v sex, failed attempt at bondage, dirty talk, praise), swearing, these guys are basically soulmates, okay, they're in love and have thought about a future together and there's a whole detailed world for them in my head

Other Characters: Foggy Nelson, Karen Page

Word Count: 3,586

Matt’s hands slide over his watch face for the time. “Do you guys think you can handle things here for the rest of the day?” he asks his friends.

“I think we can handle it,” Foggy hums, taking in the quiet office space around them. “You have a date with that girl, don’t you? Or is it a different one?”

“Nope, it should be the same girl,” Karen says. “It’s still within the time frame.”

Matt furrows his brows as he turns toward his friends. “Time frame?”

“Do we really need to go over this again, Mr. Serial Dater?” Foggy sighs. “How many girls did you see last year alone?”

“I don’t—.”

“Ten,” Karen supplements. “I mean, technically, it was nine because you dated the same girl twice, but they all fizzled out just as soon as they started. None of them lasted over two months.”

“And that’s not counting hookups we don’t know about. If my math is right, we’re almost at the two month mark in—.” Foggy turns to look at the calendar hanging on the wall to confirm. “—about a half of a week.”

“Thank you for the countdown, Father Time, but I don’t see that happening with her. She’s different.”

“Do we at least get her name? Since she’s so different than the others, that is,” Karen tries hopefully, and Matt can tell she’s eagerly biting her lip.

“(Y/N),” he concedes. “Her name is (Y/N). (Y/N/N).”

“Ooh, full name and a nickname. Are you treating (Y/N) to a fancy night out?” Foggy asks.

“Nope,” Matt grins, sliding on his jacket.

“Oh?” Karen hums. “Finally going to bring her to Josie’s?”

“So you guys can just happen to stroll in? No,” Matt continues to smile. “Not that it’s any of your business, but that’s where we met.”

“So, no fancy restaurant, no Josie’s . . .”

“I’m cooking for her at my place tonight. Happy now?”

Foggy and Karen ooh at him like a bunch of fifth graders.

“Well, here’s hoping she’s a heavy sleeper in case you hear a bank robbery across town and need to suit up.”

“Well, she knows.”

He can tell the way that they look at him, absolutely stunned. “Knows?” Karen repeats.

Matt puts his fingers up by his head to mimic his devil horns.

“EXCUSE ME?” Foggy shouts.

“It’s a long story, guys, and I have a dinner to prepare.”

“Let us know when the wedding is!” Foggy shouts as Matt leaves the office. “Knows . . . She knows! . . .”

Matt finishes plating the food before lighting the candles on the table, blowing out the match as he freezes in his tracks. His senses are good—he can always tell when you’re near, even though you haven’t been seeing one another long. But this time, even though you’re about a block away, it feels like you’re so much closer. Your scent is much stronger than usual. It’s not perfume, shampoo, or detergent clinging to your dress—it’s you. Matt can practically taste you on his tongue when he lets out a deep breath through his mouth, and it drives him wild. His thoughts are fuzzy, and all he can think of is how he wants his hands on you, dragging over every dip and curve of your body right until he’s between—.

Matt practically jumps out of his skin when you rap at his door. With one more deep breath and a quick adjustment to his pants, he makes his way to the door, swinging it open and greeting you with a warm smile. As soon as the door is even open a crack, you drown his senses. He feels almost drunk, and he just wants you.

“Hi,” he smiles, leaning in for a kiss. You meet him halfway, pressing your front flush against his, resting a gentle hand on his waist. He pulls you in even further, desperately trying to deepen the kiss. You smile and giggle into the embrace before you lean back and look up at him.

“Hello to you, too,” you smile. “It smells really good in here, and you look like quite the chef with your sleeves all rolled up and a towel over your shoulder.”

“You like the look, hm?” he teases, closing the door close and kissing your neck some more as he walks you into the loft.

“I do. I like it so much, I almost dropped the bottle of wine I brought, especially if you keep kissing that spot.”

He pulls back and kisses the top of your head. “Well, I’m glad you’ve both survived this far.” Matt, on the other hand, is barely holding on. Every second that you’ve been here—the whole 90 of them—he’s had to restrain himself from jumping on you the way he so desperately wants.

“How about we sit first?” Matt hums, giving your arm a squeeze.

“You’ve plated everything. I’d hate for the food to get cold. This looks lovely.” You lean over, kissing his cheek. As your lips leave his skin, he turns into you, kissing you deeply before dragging his embraces down your neck and up to the sweet spot behind your ear, humming in delight as he takes you in and kisses your skin. You let out a soft moan, your knees buckling slightly as you lean into him and hold onto his body.

“‘m pretty sure that this is supposed to happen after dinner,” you swallow, your fingers desperately holding onto his arms.

“Dinner can wait. You smell too good,” he murmurs into your skin, taking the wine from your hand and putting it on the island.

“I—!”

You suck in a breath in surprise when his hands travel low and squeeze at your hips.

“You smell good,” he repeats, his voice dipping low. “Better than dinner—better than it tastes.”

Your hands have a mind of their own, moving up his arms, letting your fingers rake through his hair.

“Matt . . .” you breathe. He can sense how your heart races as you hold him close.

“I can stop if you want to,” he hums, dragging his kisses down along your collarbone. “But I really don’t want to angel.”

You let out a sigh that goes straight to his cock. “I-I don’t have anything,” you tremble, and Matt notices a slight edge of something else in your voice. You sound a little nervous, but it’s not like the two of you haven’t had sex before. There’s been a few times where you’ve done just this—throw your date plans out the window to just spend the night exploring one another’s bodies over and over until you’re both so worn you turn into a tangled mess of limbs in bedsheets. And then it clicks for him. Your smell being extra strong, your elevated temperature, your racing heart, and now the slight nervous tremble in your voice. You’ve been together for two months, and he’s been with you around the time of your period, and even during your period, but as he wracks his brain to work on timelines, he’s positive there’s only one solution.

You’re ovulating.

And you know it.

Matt pulls back slowly, his hands still on your hips as you face him. He desperately works to find your eyes, even though he knows he’ll never be able to, not in the way he wants.

“And you’re . . . you’re not on . . .?” He doesn’t want to finish the sentence—it makes him feel slimy asking that, but he wants to hear you say it rather than conclude based on assumption, even if that assumption is rooted in everything your body is telling him.

“I-I’m not,” you confirm. “The side effects and stories I’ve heard from friends . . .” You shrug. “It didn’t seem worth it. As contraception or a way to help with periods.” He senses another shift in you, but this one is different. You’re embarrassed, ashamed even.

“Hey,” Matt says softly, kissing you tenderly. “It’s your body. You need to do what’s best for it.”

You nuzzle into his touch, and he lets out a little hum. “I just hate to have killed the mood. Especially since I smell so irresistible, apparently. And those kisses were pretty damn nice.”

Matt can hear how you smile while you speak when an idea comes to his mind.

“What’s that face?” you smirk, holding onto him adoringly.

“We can still keep the mood going. I mean, I have condoms, but, if you don’t want to use them, I have another idea. All you have to do is sit down and look pretty for me.”

You eagerly bite your lip, making Matt chuckle. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your lips before leading you to his bedroom.

“Sit down for me, angel,” he hums. “And spread your legs nice and wide for me.”

With a smile, you do as he asks as he softly kisses up your thighs, moving back and forth between each leg until he’s the apex, pressing a large open-mouthed kiss to your covered core. You take in a sharp breath as he slowly kisses and licks at you. For just how badly Matt wants you, he’s surprised and impressed with the restraint he’s showing. You whimper and moan as he begins to set his pace, one of your hands moving to his head and tugging on his hair, urging him to get closer. Between your arousal and his mouth, your panties are absolutely soaked within minutes.

“Hey,” you whine as he removes his mouth from you. “I was enjoying that.”

“I know,” he grins, sliding his hands up your legs until his thumbs hook around your panties and slide them down your legs before tossing them up behind you on the bed. “Those are mine, now.”

You chuckle, your laughs turning into a moan when he reattaches his lips to your dripping core. Your sounds are louder, more unrestrained now that his lips are on your dripping ones. The way you squirm against Matt’s face only eggs him on, the rotations of your hips are only helping drive your scent further into his nose, injecting pure you into his body. Wet sounds fill the room, even with his face as buried deep as it is, and he can sense the way you lean back more and more until you’re flat on your back on the mattress, still managing to pull at his hair while he eats you out. You’re done for as soon as he slips two fingers in you. You tremble with an intense orgasm as you cry out so hard, Matt can tell it hurts your lungs a little. You squeeze his head with your thighs, and Matt uses his free hand to grip onto your hip and hold you closer, bringing him on the verge of suffocation by pussy—which wouldn’t be the worst way to go, if he’s being honest.

Matt continues to lick and slurp up your juices, pushing you into overstimulation territory, your mews still music to his ears but with a tinge of discomfort, but not before you cum again and coat his face with your delicious release. Moving his lips off of your clit, he gently licks up your mess, pressing kisses all over your pelvis before lifting his head up above the skirt of your dress.

“Better than anything I could’ve cooked,” he grins as he proudly wears your slick on his face. “So good, I want to go back for seconds.”

“You gotta give me a second, tiger,” you breathily laugh, caressing the side of his face, and he desperately turns his head to kiss your palm. “Maybe while I recoop, you can get some condoms? Or at least put the dinner in the fridge so we don’t get poisoned when we get around to actually eating it.”

Matt smiles and pounces on you, caging your body beneath his before holding your face in his hands as he kisses you. You giggle and chase his lips happily, and Matt slips his tongue into your mouth to let you taste yourself even better. You squeal in delight as he presses you into the mattress, and he feels like a giddy teenager in love.

Shit. He loves you.

He was pretty sure he did—from the moment he met you, he didn’t want to even think about dating anyone else. And call it the pheromones he’s undoubtedly drunk on right now, but he doesn’t see himself being with anyone but you for the rest of his life.

“What’s on your mind, pretty boy?” you whisper, running your fingers through his hair, and he can tell you’re looking at him as if he’s all the stars in the sky.

Yeah, he loves you.

“You,” he hums. “I got lucky, getting you in my life.”

“I was just thinking the same thing.” This time, it’s your turn to pull him down for a sweet kiss, and Matt feels as if his heart might explode.

“I’ll be right back,” he murmurs against your lips. “Stay just like this.”

“Kay,” you hum.

Matt presses one more kiss to your lips before he scurries out of his room, blowing out the candles, putting the plates in the fridge, and grabbing a box of condoms from his bathroom. When he comes back into his room, he finds you in the same spot he let you, pure relaxation covering you from your head to your toes.

“You’ve got the stuff,” you smirk, and Matt can’t help but do the same.

“I do,” he hums as he walks back to you, sitting on the mattress, leaning you up to snuggle into his side. “Are you sure you want to do this tonight? Because trust me, as much as I want to do this with you right now, I can wait until a better time. I don’t mind sticking my head back down between your legs and spending the rest of the night there. I’ll be just as happy there.”

Your eyes flutter shut, leaning into his body and kissing him. “I’m sure. And trust me, if that’s what you eat pussy like when I’m ovulating, I can’t wait to feel how you fuck me. No way I’m waiting to experience that.”

The last part seems to slip out past your lips before you can realize it, and you both know what it implies. A small smile pulls at the corners of Matt’s lips, and he leans forward to kiss you again before you have a chance to feel embarrassed, resting his forehead on yours. That’s not a conversation for tonight, but he’s touched that you’ve even considered it. “Alright, if you’re sure,” he whispers. “But you need to open the package.”

“I will, but first . . .” You straddle his lap and push him down on the mattress. “I think I need to take care of that painful looking bulge in your pants.”

Matt licks his lips in anticipation, listening to how you work yourself over him. You lean over, kissing and sucking a little mark into his neck before you unknot his tie and unbutton his shirt.

“Do you trust me, Matt?” you ask.

“Completely,” he smiles.

Taking his tie, you gently move his hands up above his head and begin to knot his fabric around his wrists.

“Is it too tight?” you ask, brushing hair out of his face as if you’re clearing his line of sight.

“‘s perfect,” he assures. “So are you.”

He can sense how you blush before you lean down and kiss him, softly dragging embraces down his exposed skin until you get to his pants, undoing his belt and sliding it off, and taking care of his pants, sliding it off his hips, leaving him exposed. He’s painfully hard—he’s surprised he didn’t cum in his pants while he was up to his eyeballs in (Y/N). He sucks in a breath between his teeth when your hand wraps around him, giving him some gentle pumps before you lean down and start to use your mouth. You press feather-light kisses on the underside of his shaft, licking his frenulum and gently caressing his balls. You get the tip of him in your mouth, so warm and wet, he swallows hard.

“Wait,” he begs. “‘m not gonna last if you keep going like that.”

You smirk as you bring your mouth down toward his base before you let your hot breath spread over him.

“We both know that this isn’t the first time you’ll be cumming tonight, Matty,” you hum.

You lick along the vein in his shaft until you’re back at the tip, opening your mouth and going down on him. Matt cries out at the top of his lungs, his hips bucking up as he lets out his release. He breaks out of the satin restraint, his hands moving to the sides of your face, not to force you down, but just to have his hands on you. When you finish sucking him dry, you pull off, licking your lips before you swallow.

“I’m offended. You broke out of my knot,” you chuckle.

“Sorry,” he says with a blissed, dopey smirk.

“No, don’t apologize. It was hot. Like, really hot. Like, we’re going to have to do something like that in the future hot.”

“Are we now?”

“Mmm. Now, where’d you put that box of condoms?”

Leaning over, you grab the box and pull out the foil package, tearing it open while he gets up and takes off the rest of his clothes before you carefully slide on the latex.

“Sweetheart, I think you’re a little overdressed,” he hums as his hands slide up under your dress.

“What’re you gonna do about it?” you grin.

His hands grip the zipper, pulling it down the track before sliding it off of your body, his hands then deftly moving to remove your bra.

“There we go,” he smiles before leaning in and taking one of your breasts into his mouth, letting himself get lost in the soft, supple flesh. You both roll around in the bed until you’re under him, Matt sliding into you.

“Aah!” you cry out, your fingers grabbing a bruising grip onto his shoulders. It gets stronger the further that he pushes into you. Even with two orgasms and plenty of your arousal dripping from between your legs, you’re still so tight.

“That’s it,” he hums. “That’s it, you’re taking me so well, sweetheart.”

“Fuck!” you cry out, throwing your head back as you scratch angry red lines down his back.

“A little more, angel, you can do it. You can do it . . . Good girl, just like that.”

You both let out a grunt when he bottoms out in you, taking a moment to adjust.

“Just say the word for me, and I’ll start moving.”

“I-I need you,” you say almost immediately. “Matt, please, start moving. D-Don’t hold back.”

He takes your face in his hands, kissing you deeply before he starts thrusting. He does as you ask, not starting slow like he has in your past sexual encounters. Your moans and cries are music to his ears, spurring him on to go even faster, making you cry out louder.

“Matt!” you cry with a guttural moan. “Yes! You’re so deep!”

“Made f’me,” Matt growls as he throws your legs up over his shoulders and folding you in half. “Mine.”

“Yours! I’m yours!”

Matt slithers a hand up your body, mapping out your soft skin with his touch until his hand is around your neck, holding your jaw, fingers spread before giving it a light squeeze. He listens to how your body reacts immediately, your warm, wet, tight cunt squeezing his cock as a response as you moan and bite your lip.

Matt’s going to have fun with that fact.

“Are you ready to cum, sweetheart?” he coos as he slams into you so hard, he’s pretty sure that your cunt might be permanently stretched and remolded to match the shape of his cock. “Can you cum around my cock for me?”

“Yes,” you whimper, one of your hands dropping to his forearm, giving it a squeeze. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop! Make me cum—make me cum hard! Just don’t stop!”

Matt lowers himself to kiss you deeply, your bodies a tangled, squished mess as he keeps pounding into you. You hold onto his face desperately, deepening the connection and the kiss until you open your mouth to let out an unbridled cry of pleasure. It hurts his ears, but what a sound to go deaf to. His hand slides from your neck, moving to higher up on your waist as he kisses you through your high, his sweaty forehead eventually falling to the crook of your neck as he experiences his own release.

The two of you are a panting, sweaty mess, tangled together and coming back to your senses while he softens inside of you. A few minutes pass, and he finally musters the energy to pull out of you, tying off the condom and throwing it in the trash by his bed.

“If you’re gonna fuck me like that every time I ovulate,” you pant, kissing his cheek before resting your forehead on his temple. “I’m in for a real treat.”

Matt chuckles, enjoying the taste of your skin and how it mixes with your sweat. In that moment, everything is calm, quiet . . . everything makes sense.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he hums, his hands roaming your body. “We’re not done yet.”

Permanent Taglist: @majesticavenger @steampowerednightvaler @themusingsofmany @just-the-hiddles @toozmanykids @dangertoozmanykids101 @clints-worldavengers @theburningbookshop @itwasthereaminuteago @peter1ismybrother@hellskitchens-whore @dpaccione @catnip987 @blackhawkfanatic

Matt Murdock Taglist: @two-unbeatable-beaters @loves0phelia

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x fem!reader smut #matt murdock x reader smut #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x fem!reader fluff

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outoftheseine · 18 days ago

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- MATT MURDOCK FIC RECS 2 -

hot hot hot hot hot | note: please be aware of the authors’ warnings before reading. fics include canon tw’s like: violence, death, blood, swearing. some fics have 18+ content so minors please DNI.

part one | main masterlist

SERIES - MULTI-CHAPTERS

let you break my heart again | matt’s pov | part two • matt murdock x reader

↳ by @angst-cravings (some angst, fluff, unrequited love)

one more time | part two • matt murdock x fem!enhanced!reader

↳ by @murdock-barnes (flufff)

hold them gently (these confessions) | part two | part three • matt murdock x reader

↳ by @privateanxieties (fluff, some angst, mystery, pining)

sweetest poison • matt murdock x fem!reader

↳ by @place-called-space (this is so good i can’t wait for more parts)

seeking forgiveness • matt murdock x pregnant!reader

↳ by @bellaxgiornata (very angsty, a lot of grovelling, hurt/comfort)

sad girl • matt murdock x fem!reader

↳ by @cellophaine (fluff, smut, angst)

buttercup • matt murdock x baker!reader

↳ by @thyme-in-a-bubble (fluff, smut, angst, tw: rape, ptsd)

do no harm • matt murdock x fem!doctor!reader

↳ by @farfromstrange (angst, smut, tw: dv, child abuse, mental illnesses)

stitches | part two • matt murdock x reader

↳ by @megthemewlingquim (angst, hurt/comfort, kidnapping, second part is smut fyi)

ONE-SHOTS - BLURBS - HC’S

saw you dancing in a crowded room • matt murdock x fem!accountant!reader

↳ by @scarletsloveletter (angst but fluffy ending, second chance romance)

matt murdock as a dad would include...

↳ by @bowieandqueen11 (fluff)

home sweet home • husband!matt murdock x wife!reader

↳ by @maple-the-awesome (very fluffy, dad!matt, comfort)

tragedy • matt murdock x reader

↳ by @modern-vellichor (angst, comfort)

deserving • matt murdock x reader

↳ by @sgt-morgan (angst)

ask me tomorrow • matt murdock x reader

↳ by @murdockparker (fluffy adorable)

rising in the east • matt murdock x reader

↳ by @murdockparker (fluff)

choice and chance and promise • matt murdock x fem!reader

↳ by @courtforshort15 (slight angst, mostly fluff)

calling out • matt murdock x reader

↳ by @ithebookhoarder (angst, comfort)

the perfect cheesecake • matt murdock x reader

↳ by @cece-writes-fanfic (fluff)

be still • matt murdock x reader

↳ by @dameronology (comfort, a little angsty)

the defence rests • matt murdock x reader

↳ by @dameronology (fluff, a little angst)

the lakes • matt murdock x hard-of-hearing!reader

↳ by @goldenlikedayl1ght (comfort, fluff)

more of you • matt murdock x fem!reader

↳ by @chellestrash (smut, bantering)

your wedding dress • matt murdock x reader

↳ by @shadowbriar (very angsty)

sincerely, anxiety • matt murdock x reader

↳ by @brokebonewritings (veryy fluffy)

skin • matt murdock x reader

↳ by @reckoningss (angst, hurt/comfort, fluff)

black friday • matt murdock x reader

↳ by @goldenlikedayl1ght (very fluffy)

here • matt murdock x reader

↳ by @amberlynnmurdock (angst, comfort)

lifeline • matt murdock x fem!reader

↳ by @sunflowersandsapphires (angst, comfort, fluff, panic attacks)

play along • matt murdock x reader

↳ by @mayfieldss (fluff)

orange roses • matt murdock x reader

↳ by @bornagainmurdock (fluff)

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farfromstrange · 9 months ago

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“What if the way you hold me is actually what’s holy?” | Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Warnings: SMUT! (18+), shower setting, oral f!receiving, masturbation, fantasizing, beard appreciation (kink?), dirty talk, mentioned unprotected p in v, slight Dom!Matt, DDBA!Matt, improper thoughts about a certain crucifix necklace, (kind of) religious symbolism, mentions of choking, praise kink, pet names, “good girl”, not perfectly edited (shocker)

Summary: Fantasies about your late-working boyfriend take over your much needed self-care shower—until he’s suddenly (and unexpectedly) right in front of you when you are about to take care of the problem yourself.

A/n: So, the Born Again trailer brought me back from the dead and made me so fucking needy for this man. I thought this would be the best opportunity to rewatch Daredevil and practice writing Matt again because I’ve been a bit out of practice lately. Let’s just say the experiment was successful, but I definitely owe it to my hormone levels. The gif below inspired this fic (as it probably has done to many writers in the fandom these past two days). Anyway. If you want to listen to the song I was listening to while writing, it’s “Guilty As Sin?” By Taylor Swift, hence the title. Other than they, enjoy, and feedback is always appreciated!

Read Me On AO3!

The warm water from the shower head above runs down your clammy skin, seeping into your pores and aching muscles. You have been dreaming about this ever since you got home from work.

The apartment is quiet, save for the little noise you make in the bathroom. Matt called you earlier, telling you he would be late and that you shouldn’t wait up for him; you expected as much after he and Foggy caught a high-profile case a couple of weeks ago.

When he isn’t busy at work, he tries to fulfill his duty to protect the city. You’re not mad; you knew what you were signing up for when you fell in love with him, but that doesn’t change the fact that you miss him sometimes. Or rather, all the time. It doesn’t matter if he’s at work or wandering around in red leather, searching for a fight—you always miss him.

There’s not a day that goes by that you’re not worried he might not come back to you. You can only hold on to the thought of him coming home in the middle of the night, crawling into bed beside you because he’s too tired to shower, wrapping his arms around you as though you are the only thing anchoring him to reality. It makes you appreciate what you have in him.

The thing about Matt is that he feels he has to do penance for every little thing he has ever done, whether his actions hurt people or not; he loathes himself for who he is, which is absurd to you but to him, it makes sense. Perhaps it’s the catholic in him, or all those years of losing soulmates, or maybe it’s both.

His shampoo smells faintly of sandalwood and the rainforest, but only if you focus closely. You like that it makes your skin soft, and when you wrap yourself in his silk sheets at night, it’s almost like he’s all over you before he physically can be.

You close your eyes and you focus on the feel of him, imagining your hands are his. You imagine his calloused fingers trailing over your heated skin, exploring every dip and every curve, even though he already knows the wonderland of your body inside and out. His lips on yours, traveling down your neck to your shoulder to your chest… a shiver runs down your spine, pooling in your core. You’re on fire, and he isn’t even with you.

He’s at the office, sleeves probably rolled up, the first two buttons of his dress shirt undone, loosening his tie with that strained look he gets when he’s stressed. Or maybe he’s on his way to Fogwell’s Gym so he won’t disturb you before he puts the suit on, fists raining down on a sandbag as sweat drips down his body, and he grunts whenever he lands a hit.

You were just trying to have a nice shower, but Matt always manages to invade your every thought like a burglar on a mission.

It’s just not fair how he always looks so sinful when he’s at his wit’s end. Oh, you love that look he gets when he’s feral. And you suddenly remember how long it has been since you got to touch each other. Since he let the devil out on you. Since he came home in the middle of the night and fucked you into the mattress because he was still so full of adrenaline.

It has been so long since you two got to have a nice dinner together and you last rode him on his leather couch until you were both sticking to it, not even thinking about stopping; since he devoured you for hours and hours and hours until you were almost severely dehydrated and overstimulated from the orgasms he tore from you.

You bite your lip so you won’t moan into the void of the bathroom. If you touch yourself now, he will know when he comes home. For a moment, you consider it. You slide your hand from your chest down your stomach. The water is slowly starting to grow cold. You just need to take the edge off. Lower, lower, and lower, and—

“Don’t,” Matt’s voice reverberates in your ear. His hand slides over yours, calloused fingers on the back of your hand.

The veil of fantasy burns to the ground. Your heart stops, then picks up the pace at a million miles an hour. In an instant, you turn around to face him, a gasp dying on your lips.

He’s right there, clothes discarded on the floor before the shower, no doubt. The golden crucifix around his neck offers a sinful contrast to his milky skin. You have always wondered if he was made out of marble rather than skin and bone. How can one person be this beautiful—this close to perfection and still be human?

Matt is close enough for you to feel his heartbeat against your own. His hands slide to your forearms to make sure you don’t slip. You can see your wrecked reflection in his hazel irises.

His unfocused gaze is right on you, boring through your skull into your soul. Only he can read you like an open book, listen to your body, and know exactly what you want, what you crave. He thinks of himself as the devil, but all you see is an angel. He’s the sun. To you, at least, he’s everything. The moon, the sun, the stars, and the entire fucking universe.

He caught you when you were about to touch yourself, and he’s naked. Really fucking naked. This is not how you imagined tonight to go.

His chest heaves with a deep inhale of your scent, forehead coming to rest against yours.

“You’re home,” you whisper.

His lips curl into a smile—not a smirk but a genuine smile. “Yeah.”

“But you said you guys had that case, and then you were gonna go out…”

Matt cuts you off, “I missed you,” he says. “Couldn’t go out without seeing you.”

He chose you over the city. You never doubted Daredevil meant more to him than you, but hearing it out loud almost brings tears to your eyes.

“I missed you too,” you answer. So much. Days, weeks, seconds, all the fucking time.

He’s so smug about it, too, when he tells you, “I know.”

The water keeps falling around you, drowning out the noise of the city and pearling off his necklace. He should have taken it off. If he wanted to shower with you, he should have taken it off because the need for him that makes your cunt pulse in desperation feeds off of the mere thought of taking the cold metal into your mouth while he pounds into you like a madman.

He doesn’t look agitated, not at all, but there is a dark shadow falling over Matt’s bearded face. It’s a calculated shadow rooted in a need for control, and who are you to deny him the only thing he can control?

“Hey,” he grabs your chin, “Tell me. What were you doing in there, hm?”

You bite your lip. “Just… showering.”

“Just showering?” He brushes his nose against yours. “You know I can hear your heartbeat…”

You nod. Your lips brush, but he doesn’t kiss you. Not yet. You can taste the remnants of his last coffee, the familiar warmth of his mouth on yours, but he refuses to give you the satisfaction. You crave him so much that fireworks have started erupting on your skin wherever his fingers dare to travel; it isn’t fair. He isn’t fair.

Matt studied the science of driving you crazy, and now you are bordering on the edge of madness. Alone.

“Mhm. So, I know you’re lying…” He moves to your cheek, his breath hot when he speaks, “And I know when you’re touching yourself. ‘Cause I can smell how fucking wet you are, sweetheart.”

There he is. The relentless, feral animal you fantasized about before. The man driven by primal need and the sheer power of his senses rather than rational thought, and yet he knows exactly what he is doing. He’s a musician playing you like a delicate violin, pushing her to the breaking point but never fully destroying.

“Like I said,” you breathe, “I missed you.”

He presses his lips to your cheek, almost like a reward. “I know,” he says. “Probably been thinking about me, too, with your hand on your pussy…”

You swallow a needy moan that would have been too embarrassing. It’s been a long few weeks. Neither of you will be able to resist for long, you know that, so you decide you have to be bold tonight. “And what’re you gonna do about it?” you ask.

Though stunned for a moment, the smirk on Matt’s face isn’t far out of reach. “That’s my girl.”

Your back hits the now warm tiles of the shower wall before you can string together another remark, and then, finally—fucking finally—his lips are on yours. Kissing you. Devouring you. Breathing air into your aching lungs. He tastes like paradise, the Garden of Eden, and the six circles of hell all at once. It’s all the same to you, anyway.

As long as you’re with him, you don’t care where you end up. No amount of torture could take away the love you feel for him, and you know that with Matt, even weathering the stormy seas of hell would be worthwhile. It’s sick and twisted how far you would go for this man, but you can’t find a single bone in your body that cares.

His tongue forces its way into your mouth, tasting you, and inhaling you like his sole source of life support. You don’t bother fighting for dominance; you’re all his. Your body is telling him to command you. Your mind is screaming for him to touch you in any way he pleases, so help him God, and the chain around his neck keeps sinfully dangling against his toned chest. You want to bite it. You’re going to bite it. But not yet.

When it is time for you to swim to the surface for air, he pulls away. His lips move from yours to the corner of your mouth. He kisses there, taking his time to explore what he has explored many times before. But Matt Murdock is an addict, and you are his drug of choice, so why would he ever stop?

He kisses your cheek, your eyes, and the bridge of your nose. That’s how he sees you. Either with his fingers or his mouth or both. Touching you. Listening to you. He wants to see you in his own way. In a way that is far more intimate than you admiring his objective beauty could ever be.

“So beautiful,” he whispers between kisses. When he says it, you know it has to be true, even when you don’t see yourself in the same light as him.

His beard is rough where he kisses you. He has grown it out quite a bit, not having the time to bother shaving. The specks of gray that have started appearing as he got older should be illegal, you think, staring at him through hazy eyes. It should be illegal to look this good.

You caress his face, palm covering the entirety of his cheek. So beautiful, you want to say, but you don’t have the words.

The confession of love tumbles against your skin, softly, breathlessly, and he dips his head into the crook of your neck. He seeks your pulse point to press his lips against the beat of your heart. Your head falls back against the tiles. He’s a fucking menace, but he’s gentle about it. So, so gentle.

The hands-on your hips pull you closer, as close as you can get. Your nipples brush his chest, and you can feel him growing hard against you. He’s hot, red, and flushed, and with his lips against your neck, sucking and biting and licking some more, the shower water isn’t the only thing running down your thighs. You’ve been wet just thinking about him; Matt is here now, and he has no intention of stopping until you’re screaming his name.

Your skin is raw from the way he’s moving his face against you, suctioning his lips right where he can feel your pulse reaching for him. Reacting to him.

“Matthew,” you moan, breathless. “Please.”

He hums, fingers digging into your flesh to keep his composure. The sound of his name from your lips in such ecstasy makes his cock swell to the point all he wants is to sink into you and fuck you against the wet shower wall until you can’t walk anymore. He wants to wrap his hand around your throat, just holding you there as you take it like the good girl you are. God, he wants to do so many things to you.

He wants to push all of your buttons and reward you for it. He wants to feel your nails running down his back until he’s bleeding. He wants to eat your pussy until you forget your name, and when he’s done with that, he wants to do even more because that is the kind of animal you turn him into. That is what you do to him. You consume him with your mere existence and your love you keep pouring into him like a glass about to overflow, a glass so full yet so fucking empty at the same time, and he has been neglecting you for far too long to hold back now—yes, the water bill be damned!

“I love it when you beg,” he growls, feeling his voice vibrate through your skin. Like he’s in your veins.

You whimper. Oh, that sound. That sweet, sweet sound. It seems to do him in. Matt sinks to his knees like he would in front of God in church—like Mary knelt in front of Jesus after he got crucified. But there are no stained windows, no crosses, and no confessional booth in sight; you’re his place of worship, and your body is the altar. You are the only constant in his world on fire. You always want him to set you on fire, too.

Once on his knees in front of you, his cock straining high and mighty against his stomach, he grabs your thigh and places it over his shoulder. No rush. You can barely catch your breath.

Burning along the inside of your thigh, Matt kisses his way toward where you need him most. Your core yearns for him. Your hand slips from his face, searching the tiles behind you for something to hold onto.

He’s quick to bring your hands back to his hair. “Don’t let go,” he says.

It’s almost embarrassing that the only sound you can make is a grunt, and when your brain finally catches up, it’s too late. He’s impatient. Desperate. And he places his lips in a gentle kiss against your clit. The sudden contact makes you jolt, but that is not nearly all of it.

He tests the waters. Once, twice, even a third time, gently kissing along your slick folds. You instinctively tug at his hair, but that doesn’t deter him. Matt inhales your scent, tasting your essence on his tongue; he would bathe in it if he could.

You cry out when he dives in. He parts your folds with his tongue, sucking and licking until his face is covered. The obscene noise of lips smacking against wet skin goes straight to your head. He can hear the wetness gushing out of you, every twitch of your muscles and hitch of your breath, and he sucks a little harder on your sensitive clit. You’re scared you might fall.

“Fuck!” Your moans are as obscene as the sound of him eating you out. You grind against him, at first involuntarily, but then he moans against you, and you can’t help it; the vibrations he sends through you continue to pool in your cunt, tightening the coil that is waiting to snap.

Matt prods your entrance with his tongue, the tip of his nose digging just right into that sensitive bundle of nerves he lost when your hips first jerked. He’s completely out of it, hooded eyes rolled back into his skull while you are almost splitting yours open on the dark tiles. The cross necklace is sticky with his saliva as he drinks from you like you are the spring fueling his ocean. He’s thrusting into his hand, pre-cum leaking from his cock, but his mouth never wavers. He has a job to do.

Your walls clench around what little of his tongue is inside of you. There is nothing more arousing than the sight of him touching himself because the taste of you is bringing him to the brink of an inevitable orgasm. Because he wants to come with you. Because he’s desperate and he can only imagine being inside of you as he licks away at you. It’s a kind of dedication that makes you feral. No one has ever loved you quite like he has, and no one will ever eat your pussy as only he can.

“Matt,” you choke out. “Fuck, I’m gonna—’m gonna come. Don’t stop. Don’t…”

As if he could. He flicks his tongue from left to right, painting shapes you have never felt before over every last of your nerve endings. You’re quivering. You’re shaking. You are turning the bathroom into a concert hall for the symphony of your pleasure.

He doesn’t stop to tell you to come, that would be futile. You couldn’t possibly stop the wave headed for your shore. You can’t warn him. You can’t do anything other than let it happen. The coil snaps and your orgasm crashes into you at full force, shattering you into a million pieces. You grind against him until you’re sure he is branded into your skin forever.

Matt holds you through it, working his tongue against you to prolong the electricity running through your veins. He gets lost in the echo of his name, stroking his cock harder and faster, and within seconds of you, he’s coming, too. He spurts into his hand and on your thigh, moaning deliciously into your pussy. For a moment, he’s stiff, though as you are starting to come back to him, he’s starting to come back to you.

The aftermath of your orgasm is quiet. His lips slip from your swollen folds eventually, and he pulls away to rest his cheek against your inner thigh, the one resting over his shoulder. He’s still catching his breath, cock softening in his hands, but when you look down at him, he’s a wreck. For you.

Slowly, he rises back to his feet. You look at him, unsteady now on both of your feet. He wraps his arms around you. “You okay?” he asks softly.

You lean into his hand when he places it on your cheek. “Yeah,” you nod. “I’m…perfect.”

“You were so good for me. So good.”

The distance between you dissipates, foreheads falling together in absolute exhaustion. He smells and tastes of you. You kiss him softer than you ever have. “I love you,” you whisper, and he smiles because he knows.

You don’t count the minutes you stay like that, kissing. It might have been an hour, not nearly enough. Matt reaches for the water when it starts getting cold, and he lifts you to wrap your legs around his waist.

You frown. “Aren’t you going out tonight?”

He shakes his head. “No, sweetheart,” he says, “I’m not done with you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Gotta make sure you know how much I missed you.”

The giddy smile on your face when you kiss him again is involuntary, but not unnecessary. He giggles, too, before you finally shut him up.

Hell’s Kitchen can live without him for one night, that much is for sure. And when he finally thrusts into you and you bite down on the golden metal of that godforsaken crucifix to stifle your scream as he fucks you to hell and back in a way that is gentle yet possessive, you know this is the only place Matt needs to be tonight—for both of you.

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock fluff #daredevil #daredevil: born again #x reader #charlie cox

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hqwkeyes · 1 month ago

Text

Falling for the Devil

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader Word Count: 3.6k+ Warnings: swearing, uhh fluff, slight angst?, matt is a flirt, i edited this while fighting 6g melatonin Summary: Matt Murdock is a known flirt, and a successful one, at that. You've seen him work his magic on women dozens of times. But one night, he attempts to use that Murdock charm on you. He might've fallen first, but you just might fall harder... maybe.

Masterlist // Buy me a coffee!

Matt Murdock is many things: a great lawyer, a great friend, but most of all, he's a flirt. A merciless flirt, at that. A charmer and a tease. He has a way of making people, specifically women, feel special. It comes naturally to him, much to Foggy's dismay in his pre-Marci days.

You've been working at Nelson, Murdock, and Page for a while now, and you just sort of clicked with the group early on. There have been several occasions when you were all out at Josie's and Matt would work his magic on a woman. You would all watch as he'd flirt with them, charm them, and often times leave with them. It was a running joke in the group, at this point, that Matt was sort of a...philanderer, if you will. He didn't lead these women on, though. Matt was still pretty much a gentleman.

Although he keeps to himself more than the others, you've always been pretty close friends with Matt. He looks out for you the same way he does for Karen and Foggy, and you trust him—like really trust him. Was there a vibe you got from him sometimes? Sure, but you were also well aware that Matt could probably charm a brick wall if he wanted to, and you generally try not to fall for antics like that.

It's been a long week, and this case you were all working had dragged on for weeks in court. You all had done your best work for your client, but you weren't sure how the verdict would pan out. In the end, you guys won the case, and now it was time to celebrate.

Josie's is fairly busy. Foggy brought Marci tonight, and you all get yourselves a drink before claiming the pool table, which is thankfully free. The five of you toast to the big win in court before cutting loose a bit and playing a few games.

You're sitting at a table nearby with Karen, chatting a bit while Foggy plays against Marci—which is incredibly entertaining. Matt is by Foggy's side for emotional support, which he definitely needs. When both your drinks are empty, Karen gets up to get the two of you another round. After a few minutes, you peek over at the bar, wondering what's taking your friend so long. You're only a little surprised to find her talking it up with a guy. She's the friendly sort, but this seems like a bit more than just friendly. He's handsome and very much her type. Another minute later, Karen pops back over with your drink, and asks if you would mind if she stepped away to talk to Evan. You give her a suggestive grin and shoo her away before calling out to your friends that you're playing the winner in the next game.

In a shocking twist, Foggy beat Marci in the last game. Unfortunately for you, that just meant that she was on his side, cheering him on and distracting him from the game. Matt is sitting at the table you and Karen had been occupying, and you call him over.

"Come on, Matt, I need someone to root for me too," you tell him, and he laughs as he joins you by the pool table.

The two of you chat as you play, but after the next few shots, you lose Foggy to Marci's attention. He's practically drooling over her, and you would think it's adorable if it wasn't his turn.

"Earth to Foggy," you call out, but it's no use. You'll have to wait for him to turn his attention back to the game.

"Can you believe this?" You ask Matt, shaking your head in disbelief, and he laughs at your mild distress.

You lean against the table, grabbing your drink you'd left on the edge of it.

"You know, you really pulled through for us on this case," Matt says suddenly as he leans against the table beside you.

"Thanks, Matt. It was nothing though."

"No, really, I don't think we could've pulled it off if not for those documents you found."

"I'm just happy to help," you tell him.

"And we're very happy to have you," he says with a smile.

Matt holds out his glass, and you clink yours against it before taking a sip. You glance over to where Karen is to check on her, and she seems to be having a great time. Her eyes meet yours and she gives you a big smile.

"This is nice," Matt says, drawing your attention back to him.

"Hm?"

"We haven't spent much time together like this lately."

"Well, we've been so busy with the case, it's been hard to find time outside of work. And we all know you're always busy," you say, nudging him with your elbow.

"That's true," he says with a chuckle. "So what have you been up to outside of work?"

"Oh." You weren't expecting that.

"Um, well I've been watching this show lately." You explain the plot of the show before telling him about this new hobby you have. He listens attentively with a small smile. He shows genuine interest in what you're saying, asking questions here and there. After a few minutes, you realize that you've been babbling on.

"Jeez, I'm sorry. I've been rambling."

"Don't apologize," he says, leaning a bit closer. "I like listening to your voice." You recognize his tone. It's that seemingly innocent one he has when he's trying to charm someone. Something bubbles in your chest, and for a moment, you understand why so many women fall for his flirtations.

"I bet you tell all the girls that," you say with a laugh before taking another sip your drink.

"Hey, I mean it," he says, feigning hurt before finishing off his drink.

"Sure you do," you say, voice laced with amusement.

"I do, really. I could listen to you talk all day."

"You do listen to me talk all day," you joke, earning a chuckle from him, though his pride is a bit wounded.

Trying to keep his composure, he casually snatches your drink from your hand and takes a sip.

"Do you want me to get you another drink?" You ask with a laugh.

"I thought maybe we could share." His reply is quick, smooth, and it comes with that signature smirk again.

You roll your eyes. You know Matt and how he is. This case was tough and he's probably looking to blow off some steam, which is fine, but you're not sure why he's looking to you. Being friends with your bosses/coworkers can be difficult enough. Sleeping with Matt would likely complicate both of those relationships. You wouldn't want to risk it all over a one night stand, although, once again, you can see how he manages to captivate all these women.

You play it casual. "Sure, we can share if you want."

At that, you can see the twinge of frustration in Matt's expression. His brows draw up in what looks something like confusion.

"I heard Karen say she was talking to a guy at the bar?" He asks after a moment.

"Oh yeah, she said his name is Evan."

"Nice, nice."

A moment passes. You take your drink back for another sip as your eyes dance over the small crowd to check on Karen again, who still looks like she's having a great time.

"So, are you seeing anyone new?" And you almost spit that sip straight onto the floor. Josie would probably make you clean it yourself, or it would stay there until the sticky puddle dried.

You clear your throat from nearly choking. "No, I'm not." Matt's grin returns. He fumbles with his fingers.

"Oh, no?"

"Nope. You?"

"No, not lately." he says, taking your drink back again and draining half of what's left. He lets out a sigh after. "There's someone I've been interested in for a while, and I just can't quite get over my feelings," he says.

You freeze, your heart kicking up a fuss. Matt smiles at the floor. You try to maintain your composure.

"Oh, really?" you say, trying not to sound too interested. "Who's the lucky lady? Do we all know her?"

"Yeah, you do actually." He finishes off your drink. "Can I get you another?" He asks, holding up your glass.

"Umm." You glance at your watch. It's a Friday, but you don't want to go home so late that you have to call a car.

"Just one more? To celebrate our win." He plays it cool, but there's a slight edge to his voice, almost pleading.

"By one more, do you mean one of my own or one to share?" He laughs at that.

"What's wrong with sharing," he jests with a grin, then heads to the bar before you can reply.

He returns a couple minutes later with a drink for each of you, but his smile deflates when he finds that Foggy's attention has returned to the game you were playing.

"Thanks, Matt," you say passively as you take your drink and set it on the edge of the table before lining up your next shot.

You end up pocketing two balls in one go, letting out an excited shout.

"What's happening?" Matt asks.

"She just pocketed two balls," Foggy says, exasperated.

"My last two. And now I can go for the winning shot," you tell him. He smiles.

"Nice," Matt says, trying not to seem dejected.

"The odds of you making that shot are slim to none," Foggy says. He's right. Based on the placement of his remaining balls, it's unlikely that you'll make the winning shot in this turn, but you get competitive when people doubt you.

"Wanna bet?" you say.

"On you not making the shot? Hell yeah."

"How much if I do?"

"Twenty bucks."

"You don't sound too confident," you say, goading him.

"Fine, fifty." Marci lightly smacks his arm. Honestly, you shouldn't have pushed it with how slim your chances are, but you're feeling a little lucky tonight.

"Deal."

You call your pocket before taking a moment to line up your shot. You inhale deeply, hold it a second, exhale. Shoot. The 8 ball knocks against one of Foggy's, then against the edge of the table before slowly rolling toward the pocket you called. And it's in.

"Holy shit!" Foggy yells. You're cheering for yourself and Marci joins in the excitement.

Foggy comes around to your side of the table to give you your fifty dollars. "You definitely earned it," he says with a laugh. "Wanna go again?"

"I'm good," you tell him. "That was more than enough excitement for me."

You walk over to Matt, who is standing near the table you had shared with Karen earlier.

"I take it you won?"

"I did," you say, your voice oozing with pride.

He chuckles. "Of course you did."

He holds out his glass to toast to your win, and you clink yours against his, a bit spilling on the floor.

"So, what are you gonna do with the money you won?" he asks, setting his drink down on the table.

"Hmm, I'm not sure. Maybe I'll treat myself to dinner tomorrow night."

You go to step closer to the table to set your drink down, but slip on the puddle you'd left, falling forward. Matt catches you against his chest, his arms falling around your waist to steady you.

"Shit, I'm sorry," you say, removing your hands from his chest once you regain your footing, but Matt's arms don't move.

"You're finally falling for me, huh," he says with that smirk. Your heart skips a beat. Or maybe several. Actually, it feels like it might burst right out of your chest. Your eyes are wide, your cheeks growing hotter by the second.

"I– um, I–" you stammer, unsure of what to say.

"How about instead of treating yourself to dinner tomorrow night, you let me treat you."

"But what about–" you pause as the realization hits you. You were the woman he had been talking about. "Oh." You feel the tips of your ears reddening.

Matt lets out a soft chuckle at your reaction.

Now that you think about it, it's been more than a few weeks since Matt has flirted with anyone here at Josie's. Women have approached him, as usual, but he hadn't left with any of them or even accepted any of their offers to buy him a drink. He was still charming, but that's just natural with him. At the time, you attributed it to him being busy, as you all were with work. Matt had a way of really locking in on work when there was a heavy caseload, so it didn't seem unusual then. You would all just stop in at Josie's for a quick drink before heading home.

You're pulled from your thoughts by Matt tugging you a little closer to him.

"So how about it?" he asks quietly once he has your attention again. "We can go to that little Italian place you like near the office?"

Have you, at some point, considered what it might be like to be with Matt? Admittedly, yes. He's a sweetheart of a guy, always kind and courteous. He's a fierce lawyer—you're constantly impressed by his ability to captivate a jury and spin a narrative. And he and Foggy are always looking out for the little guy, taking on clients that don't have much—or anything at all, sometimes—but need help, and so they do just that. But at the end of the day, you're friends, and he's also your boss.

Your heart is in your throat.

"Um, as friends?" you ask.

He lets out a small laugh, shaking his head.

"Well, I was hoping it could be a date if you're comfortable with that."

You bite your lip. "I– I just don't know if I want to risk what we already have," you admit.

"Understandable," he says, and one of his hands comes up to rest on your cheek, the other remaining firmly on your waist. "But what if we could have so much more?"

Well, the joke's on you for trying to argue with a lawyer.

"You can think of it as a trial run if you want," he offers, his hand coming down to your jaw. "If it doesn't feel right to you, we can just go back to how things were."

It might not be that simple, you think, but maybe it's worth the risk, like he said. And besides, Matt is someone you love having in your life. If things didn't work out romantically after a date or two, you're sure you could still be friends.

"A trial run, then," you say with a small nod. Matt's smirk blossoms into a smile.

"Perfect," he whispers, his hand finding it's way back up to your cheek, thumb brushing over your cheekbone. Your eyes flutter closed.

And then they're shooting back open as Foggy's voice cuts across the room.

"Look at all this love in the room tonight!" The volume of his voice makes you wince, and Marci bats at his arm, scolding him for ruining the moment. Both you and Matt burst into laughter at the pair.

You finish off your drink before getting ready to head out with the others. Karen bids Evan a good night as she readies herself to leave with the rest of you, but not before she gets his number. You link your arm through hers as you move toward the exit, asking about her night. She gives little away in the short walk to the door, but promises to catch you up at work on Monday.

"You had an eventful night too, didn't you?" she says with a grin.

"Oh yeah, I won fifty bucks off of Foggy."

"Wait, what? I was talking about with Matt. I saw the two of you over by the table," she says, nudging you playfully.

"Oh, you saw that?" You wear a bashful smile.

"Yes, and I expect to hear about that on Monday too," she says with a laugh, and you agree.

The cool night air greets you as you exit the bar, leaving goosebumps on your skin. Foggy and Marci get a cab first, calling out their "goodnights" as they get in the car. Karen calls another cab over, and she offers it to you, but you insist she takes it as she lives further than you.

And now you're left here with Matt.

"I don't see anymore taxis," you tell him. "I can call one for you if you'd like?"

"Don't worry about me, I'm fine to walk," he says, tapping his cane against the pavement. Neither of you live far from Josie's. It's about a ten minute walk from you.

"I was going to walk too," you say.

"Then, can I walk you home?" he asks.

"How about I walk you home? You're not far out of the way."

He shakes his head. "I don't want you walking alone if you can avoid it. It's late."

"Fine," you say. Then, "thank you."

He smiles at the ground before taking hold of the crook of your arm. "Of course."

The two of you walk in silence for a moment before he speaks.

"You know, I'm really looking forward to tomorrow night," he says.

A small smile makes its way onto your face. "Is that so?"

"Yes," he says. "Thank you for giving me a chance. I know you might think I'm some kind of... I don't know, playboy or something, but I'm– I'm serious about this—about you." Your cheeks burn hot at that.

"I don't think that about you," you say quietly.

"You don't?"

"No. Although, I do think you have an uncanny ability to charm pretty much any woman." He smiles again. "You're a flirt and a tease, but I wouldn't go as far as to call you a playboy." His smile falters a bit at that.

"I believe you, though," you tell him. "Admittedly, I'm a little hesitant to, but you've never given me a reason not to trust you."

"Then, I'll just have to keep proving that you can trust me."

You smile. "I'm looking forward to that."

The two of you walk together in silence for a bit.

"The moon is so bright tonight," you say as you look up at the sky.

"Is it?"

"Yeah, it is. I can see it shining through the clouds, but there are too many to see any stars."

Matt sighs. "I'd give anything to see that one more time." Your heart constricts at that.

"I– I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he says. "I like that you describe things like that to me. You do it more often than you might think. It feels like you want to share it with me, and I enjoy hearing how things look through your eyes. I remember what it was like, you know, seeing the night sky, all the stars up there—or at least what we could see from the city. When you tell me about it, it helps me keep those memories alive." You tear up just a little bit, smiling sadly.

"I'm glad I could do that for you."

A few moments pass, and you come up to your apartment building.

"This is me," you say with a sniffle, coming to a stop.

Matt turns to face you, bringing his hand up to cup your face once again.

"I take it back," he says softly.

"What?" you ask, confused.

"I take it back," he says again, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "As much as I wish I could see the sky again, I'd do anything to see you just once."

"Oh, Matt," you breathe, and a tear slips free. He brushes it away as he closes the gap between you, pressing a featherlight kiss to your lips. And then he's pulling away, but your hand comes up to gently tug him back by his tie. His hands find their place on your hips as you pull him into another kiss, this one a bit deeper. One of his hands comes up to rest at the nape of your neck, and his glasses bump against your nose as he angles his head. The two of you break apart in a laugh, and his hand comes down to take hold of yours.

"I wasn't planning on kissing you tonight, just so you know."

"Oh, no?"

He shakes his head, a small grin on his face. "Nope."

"Well, I guess you can just try not to kiss me tomorrow night," you say with a small smirk.

"Oh, I don't think so," he says, a laugh rumbling in his chest as he leans in to press one last kiss to your lips.

"Until tomorrow," he says once he pulls away.

"Goodnight, Matt," you say as you take a step towards the stairs to your building.

"Goodnight" he says, finally releasing your hand.

He waits until he hears you get safely inside your apartment to start his walk to his own, a smile on his face the entire way home.

You're practically giddy as you ready yourself for bed. There's a good chance you won't be getting much sleep tonight, not with the anticipation of tomorrow night lingering.

Matt feels it too. Despite the late hour, he's wide awake, his heart thumping wildly as he recounts the past hour or so. As he lies in bed, he can't help but miss the way you felt in his arms, like the piece he didn't realize he was missing. Some would say it's too soon to tell, but to him, you already felt like home.

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sunflowersandsapphires · 8 months ago

Text

In His Element

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

summary: After watching Matt cross examine a witness, your patience is worn thin, leaving you to plead with the devil.

warnings: SMUT. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. fingering, brief masturbation, descriptions of fem genitalia, dom!Matt's filthy mind, and also him being so attractive

a/n: THIS IS MY FIRST EVER SMUT THAT WASN'T GHOST WRITTEN SO IT MIGHT NOT BE GREAT. I am going to keep practicing for y'all though! As always, please comment/reblog and leave me feedback if you desire :)

w/c: 3.5k

With clammy fingers, you smoothed your wrinkled skirt until it lay flat over your knees, crossing your ankles under the pew you were seated in. In your haste to find a seat before the trial resumed, you’d landed directly below an A/C vent, which was blowing a harsh current over you. The hair along your limbs stood on end, your heart pumping your blood in smaller loops, leaving your extremities to slowly wither. It should’ve been uncomfortable, but you were far too focused on the heat churning in your gut as your eyes followed your partner’s pacing form.

Hands stacked loosely over the handle of his cane, Matt’s head tilted slightly as he prepared to ask the prosecution’s witness a question. He was facing away from you, but you could imagine the exact emotionless-yet-somehow-haughty expression that graced his face. It was one of the attributes of your boyfriend’s stoic appearance that emerged behind the courtroom doors that you found mind-numbingly attractive.

“Officer Bauer,” Matt’s voice sent a shudder down your spine. Though the man wore a literal mask most nights, he had a variety of metaphorical personality-masks that suited various environments—his everyday polite demeanor, the protective and concerned boyfriend that always surfaced whenever you were threatened or hurt, and, notably, the serious, calculating attorney persona he adopted during his trials.

Biting your tongue to freeze your body in place, you inhaled slowly, trying not to draw attention to yourself. A quick glance to the jury confirmed that you were not the only one entranced by the dark-haired man as he strode back and forth, a few feet in front of the witness stand. He had you all captivated.

Shifting his weight to his heels, Matt was angled enough that you could see the innocent smile he directed at the man sweating on the stand. “Can you tell me what you were doing at the corner of 52nd and 8th on the afternoon of Thursday, March 6th?”

A simple question, innocuous enough that the callous man he was questioning let out an indignant scoff as he answered. ”Patrolling.“

You rolled your eyes at his single word response, his disdain for the judicial process evident in his slouched posture and bored tone. He was practically falling asleep in the worn leather chair, his half-lidded eyes trained on Matt like a dazed serpent. The man looked foul and, from the little that Matt had told you, his personality matched.

Despite the apathetic participant he was dealing with, Matt remained calm and composed. His smile widened marginally, revealing a flash of his pristine teeth as he huffed in amusement.

"Of course. And when you were on patrol you noticed the defendant amongst a group of young adults. Is that correct?"

Your chest was convulsing as your heart pounded from your rib cage. Matt was exceptionally intelligent and had explained his tactic for cross-examining this inattentive cop, but that didn't make it any less suspenseful as you watched his game of cat and mouse play out before your very eyes.

The officer's slitted eyes wandered to the ceiling as he sighed. "Yeah."

"Can you describe the group to me?" Matt lifted his shoulders as he posed the question, not quite shrugging, but definitely indicating that, while he believed the leathery-skinned witness had not yet satisfied his curiosity.

“Buncha kids. Messin around.” Four words rather than one. That was progress, right? Akin to the marble rolling down a track at the beginning of a complex Rube Goldberg machine. The task was far from accomplished, but there was motion somewhere within the structure.

“And, as your partner stated earlier, most of the kids were white, is that correct?” The first hint of something substantial. You pressed your lips together, holding in a smile as your mind started to piece together the rocky, cobblestone path your boyfriend was laying for his uncooperative witness.

“Yes.”

“What encouraged you and your partner to approach the defendant and other students in the park?” Tone laced with what sounded like genuine curiosity, Matt raised a brow at the arresting officer. His ability to color his voice in a way that would appeal to the jury never ceased to amaze you.

“We got news of a nearby break in, and they were actin' suspicious.”

At this point, you were pretty much tuning the lazy cop out—waiting for Matt to open his mouth again, to speak in the beautifully deep, almost hoarse way he always did when defending his clients. His words were direct, controlled in the same manner his general conduct was, his anger and need for justice hidden behind an expressionless facade.

It was intoxicating, his ability to hold back. Almost as divine as his ability to let go.

“Can you describe these suspicious activities for the court?”

Fidgeting with a loose thread on the hem of your skirt, you let Matt's voice drape over you like a wool blanket on a winter night. Comforting, warm, and a tad prickly. Only ears as finely tuned to the man's peculiarities could pick up the barbed edge of his questioning—thousands of serrated teeth waiting to ensnare the animal as soon as it was within their grasp. Knowing how talented your partner was in his field, that moment wasn't far away.

The chair creaked as the cop shifted with a hefty shrug. “Ya know, talkin' all low to each other, shovin' things in their bags while lookin' over their shoulder...” He trailed off, mashing a fist against his nose with an awful throat clearing sound.

“And, while on your patrol, you noticed the group acting this way.” More of a statement than a question. Matt was closing in.

“Yea, that’s what I just said.” The cop snorted, completely unaware of the brutal fate that awaited him.

“So you and your partner decided to intervene?” Matt reasoned aloud. He was pacing again. Your attention had been solely on his voice, not his footsteps.

“Course that’s our job.” The ignorant man to the right of the judge shifted again in his seat, his frustration visibly growing as Matt continued to hurl benign and repetitive questions at him.

“And when you exited your vehicle, what happened?” Matt asked.

“They took off.” Bauer answered, irritated.

“On foot?” Matt clarified.

“Yes.” The witness rubbed forcefully at the bridge of his nose again.

“And it’s true that my client left with them?” Gesturing softly to the young woman seated at the defense's table to indicate to the room who his client was, in case they needed a reminder.

“Yes.” Bauer confirmed.

“So the entire group dispersed on foot?” Matt asked with an air of confusion. His rumbling baritone lifting on the tail end to indicate his dismay.

“Yep.” Bauer grit his teeth, tiring quickly as Matt persisted.

“At the same time?” Matt asked with the same bewildered look on his face.

“Yes.” His witness growled.

“The same group that was acting in a suspicious manner?” Matt questioned.

“Yes. I just said that.” Voice raising, you could see Bauer's face getting redder by the second.

“Then can you tell me, Officer Bauer, why you and your partner BOTH decided to pursue my client?”

Bauer's eyes flashed with something similar to understanding, his mouth remaining clamped shut as Matt stepped closer, closing in on his prey.

“You’ve previously reported and just now confirmed that the entire group left when they noticed you approaching. Yet you and your partner both were solely focused on my client rather than any of the other members of the group. Tell me, officer, is that because of her race?” Matt's words flew out of his mouth rapidly, a string of poorly concealed accusations within them.

You barely had time to appreciate Matt's ingenuity before the lead prosecutor bolted out of her seat. "Objection, Your Honor, that is clearly leading."

"Sustained. Counselor?" The judge glanced at Matt for his next move.

Holding up a hand, Matt didn't miss a beat. “I’ll rephrase. Officer, what reason did you have for pursuing my client rather than any of the other students?”

"Well, she was acting weird," Bauer stammered, his eyes bulging with fear. He'd spotted the threat then.

“In the same manner as the rest of the group, as you previously stated, all of whom you approached with your partner. Yet both of you ran after my client.”

“Yes.” Nodding cautiously, Bauer's voice was suddenly small.

“And, besides her race, can you give any other reason she stood out to you as more suspicious than the rest of the group?”

“Objection, leading.” The prosecution called out, her voice a bit shrill with desperation.

"Overruled. Mr. Murdock, please continue with your line of questioning." The judge's gaze flitted between the prosecutor and the witness who was now sweating profusely on the stand.

“Thank you, your honor. Officer Bauer, can you explain to the court exactly how my client was acting differently?” Changing the question slightly, Matt's lips twitched with the hint of a smirk.

“I don’t know, she, she just was!” Bauer cried, flustered.

“Is there any other difference between her and the rest of the group that you can explicitly state other than her appearance or her race?” Matt asked, cheeks twitching as he gleefully listened to the snare clasp around its victim.

“No.” Bauer answered. "But, but it wasn't like that!"

Turning to the judge, Matt's spine was straight with satisfaction as he announced his intentions. “Your honor, the defense would like to file a motion to dismiss this case on the grounds of selective enforcement. The combined testimony of Officers Bauer and Burke demonstrates an intent to frisk my client because she was black, not solely because of her actions, negating the principle of reasonable suspicion.”

The courtroom exploded, the witness and prosecution both howling in protest as the defendant and Matt both smirked. Grinning ecstatically, you stifled a laugh as the uproar continued, until the judge finally granted the dismissal. You couldn’t lessen your smile if you tried.

Flooding out of the courtroom amidst the sea of spectators and journalists, you stepped out of the current as quickly as you could. Craning your neck over the waves of bobbing heads, you broke into a wide grin when you saw Matt trailing after the masses, cane sweeping inches from their ankles like he was chasing them out. As soon as he was within reach, you called his name, eagerly grasping his outstretched hand and tugging him out of the doorway.

“God, Matty, that was incredible.” You exclaimed breathlessly, wrapping him in a tight hug. His forehead landed against your hair, his nose skimming the shell of your ear as he shook with a resonant chuckle.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” He pressed a kiss against your neck, a guttural noise slipping out as he did. “Fuck, you smell so good.”

His words were barely audible, a secret to only be shared with you. They sent another wave of need straight to your core. “Matthew,” You mumbled, his name breaking off into a whine.

Another huff of laughter sounded in your ear. Planting another kiss against your neck, Matt's broad hands squeezed your hips. “My place. Now.”

“What about you?” You murmured, mouth watering as every touch from your boyfriend left a lingering patch of heat along your skin.

“I have a few things to finish up here, but I'll be there when I can. I promise.” You didn't need to hear his heartbeat to feel the honesty in his vow.

The idea of waiting for him made your knees tremble, the joints threatening to buckle as Matt swiped a calloused thumb over the bare skin of your waist, his hand beneath your shirt. “Matty, please.”

Matt shushed you sweetly. “Not here, angel. Be a patient girl for me and I'll make all your pain worth it, I promise.”

With one final squish of your hips, Matt separated from you.

The walk to Matt’s apartment was excruciating. With each step, the throbbing between your legs grew more intense. By the time you’d made it up the stairs and flopped onto his couch, you were practically panting with want.

Now, you were desperately trying to focus on your book, but the words on the page might as well have been gibberish given how little you'd retained since you started. How were you supposed to manage when the image of Matt's parted lips was branded on the back of your eyelids.

“Be a patient girl for me and I'll make all your pain worth it, I promise.”

Patience was never your strongsuit.

Digging your front teeth into your lip, you dropped your head to the arm of Matt's couch with a thunk, whimpering as your discomfort crested. Blowing out a breath, you clenched the paperback book with vigor, fingernails stabbing the parchment inside, scarring it with tiny crescents. If only this book was Matt's broad back.

He loved when you got a little rough with him. You couldn't help it. As soon as his mouth was on you, your eyes shut, vision blanketed with stars. Your hands would grapple for whatever surface they could find to anchor you as Matt rocked the two of you in tandem, your nails carving scratches into Matt's beautiful, sporadically-freckled skin in the process.

The first time it happened, you'd been horrified. Stammering out an apology and offering to apply antibiotic gel to the red marks, but your boyfriend had just smiled, assuring you that he didn't mind.

“Each of those marks is a reminder that I'm yours, sweetheart.”

Arching your back as Matt's dulcet tone echoed in your ears, the book toppled to the ground with a flutter of pages. Hands wandering over your body, you reminded yourself to be patient.

Matt will be here soon. He will.

But not soon enough. A voice buried somewhere in your subconscious warned, encouraging your primal desires and urging your hands to free the hem of your blouse from where it was tucked beneath the waistband of your skirt. Fingertips trailing over the now-exposed skin of your lower belly, you hummed softly as a ripple of pleasure circled out from your fingertips.

Unbuttoning your skirt, you slowly loosened the fabric enough for your hand to dip under it. Dragging a finger over your panties towards your core, you hissed as it finally reached your delicate clit. The bundle of nerves was overly sensitive after being ignored for so long. Pulling the cotton aside, you pushed your finger between your folds, smiling as it danced over your clit. Circling it carefully with a single finger, you shuddered as your body began to buzz with a familiar thrill.

Rocking your hips into your hand slowly, you could barely hear anything over the blood rushing in your ears—which meant that the slam of a closing door caught you off guard.

Yanking your hand out of your underwear with a yelp, you sat up, frantically jerking your head towards the door.

“I thought I told you to wait for me, sweetheart.” Matt's face was shrouded by an array of shadows, the glint of his malicious smirk tinted red in the light of his living room window.

“I—I was!” You mumbled, arousal seeping into your panties as Matt stalked towards you with a laugh.

“You know I can tell when you're lying, sweets. Want to try that again?”

“Depends,” You retorted, adrenaline reigniting the confidence Matt always brought out in you. “Are you planning on apologizing for being so late?”

Chuckling sinfully, Matt cornered you against the back of the couch, fingers deftly unlooping the fabric of your skirt from the remaining buttons. Leaning down until your lips were practically touching, his mouth glanced against yours as he spoke, ignoring your question. "Do you know how difficult it is to remain coherent when you've clouded the entire courthouse in your scent?"

"W-what?" You stammered, gasping shallowly when Matt's teeth grazed the underside of your jaw, his lips kissing languidly along your neck.

"Did you miss me that much, sweetheart? Wanted me to take you right there on the floor before the jury?" Matt purred, making your cheeks thrum with bashful heat.

"I'm not the only one who wanted that, it seems." You grinned, cupping your hand over the noticeable bulge in his pants. “I can't help it, Matt. Watching you in your element...you're intoxicating. I can't listen to two words out of your mouth without wanting to drag you to the nearest bathroom.”

Palming his cock through the layers he wore, Matt growled into the skin of your neck, nipping at your pulse point. Static ricocheted from the impact, freezing you in place as your thighs flexed.

Shedding you of your skirt, Matt gently caressed the cotton covering your drenched pussy. “Can I—”

“Please,” You begged, choking in a breath before Matt's mouth crashed against yours. His stubble bristled against your skin, the small pinpricks a pleasant contrast to his plush lips. Tearing the remaining clothes from your legs, Matt threw his leg over your torso, encouraging you to fully recline against the leather. One hand cupping the back of your head, the other was splayed across your mound, a single dextrous finger parting your glistening lips.

He tasted like salt, like want. His tongue lapping at you like he needed to swallow you whole, like he couldn't get enough.

His cheeks ruffled as a strangled moan escaped him. “You're this wet for me, sweetheart?”

“All for you.” You panted, the air between you growing thick with feverish heat. “Always for you.”

With a beautiful grin, Matt's finger swiped over your entrance. “You ready?”

Nodding sloppily, you brought your hands up to cup his cheeks, tugging him back to your lips. Mouth colliding with yours, the force became bruising when your body rutted upwards, a jolt of satisfaction striking your every cell as Matt's finger entered you.

You hissed as the familiar pleasant pain washed over you. Arching your back as Matt pumped his digit upwards, you moaned, clapping a hand over your mouth as the sound escaped you.

Matt chuckled. “No need to be quiet, sweetheart. Tell me how it feels.”

“So g-good, Matty.” You whimpered, every nerve within your folds quivering as Matt dragged his finger out of you, pushing it in again as he scraped his teeth over your neck. You cried out, vision going black as your body strained to find release. Your fingers dug into the silk beneath you, yanking at the sheets.

As your desperation grew, the rest of your limbs faded into numbness, your brain solely focused on the sensations of Matt’s callouses scraping against your walls—as if he was scratching an itch that had been niggling at you for hours.

Matt hummed against your throat, pressing the pad of his thumb against your clit, making you yelp. The fire within you was out of control, your body drawn taught like the string of a bow.

Wriggling slightly beneath his touch, your breaths became shallow, your stamina worn thin after watching him in court. You whined, twisting slightly to avoid launching yourself over the alluring edge into heavenly oblivion.

“So close already, sweets?” He teased, repeatedly strumming the bundle of nerves.

You moaned in assent, fisting the blankets in your clammy hands. His thick fingers tangled in your hair, giving your locks a tug and drawing a pleased yelp from your mouth.

“Go on. Come for me.” Matt rasped, his breath fanning over your face.

The command shoved you over the cliff, your lungs clenching as you stifled a scream. Your tailbone rutted up, your back arching off the mattress. Everything went white, your ears ringing as sheer pleasure coursed through your veins.

Matt was murmuring to you, his words muddled by the blood rushing in your ears. “–at’s my girl. Always such a good girl.”

Rounding the peak, you collapsed to the mattress, your body trembling viciously. Each beat of your heart shook your rib cage, the motions rippling throughout your limbs. Hands flexing, you hissed as the muscles stretched out of mashed fists. Cupping Matt’s cheeks, you smiled as he eagerly dipped to kiss you.

“Good?” He asked, the question punctuated by the noise of your lips pulling apart.

“Fuck, Matty,” You whispered, head still swimming from the influx of oxytocin. “Yes. Yes, it was good. S-so good.”

Withdrawing his hand from between your legs, Matt cradled you against his chest, brushing a thumb over your nape as your soul re-tethered. Lifting one wobbly leg, you shifted, attempting to throw the leaden weight over him, but Matt gently caught you by the thigh, encouraging you to relax.

“What about you, love?” You asked, drawing in a harsh breath when Matt’s teeth nipped under your ear, his fingers already spreading your legs again.

“Later.” He huffed, his stiff length falling against your plush hip. “I’m not done with you quite yet.”

Taglist: @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @xxdrixx @gracethyomen @ignore-mp3 @silas-aeiou @screechingphantommaker @spiderstyles04 @paradox-brody-chase @msjb2002 @blue-devil-of-the-lord @pigeonmama @daisy-arien0 @yarrystyleeza

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cyripticchronicler · 7 months ago

Note

Hiii I have a request for Matt Murdock I was thinking him with an reader who’s job has gotten more stressful and it starts to get to them they get dizzy and lightheaded but brush it off until it happens around Matt and he can sense that it happened and he gets all protective and caring

Preferably fem reader but gn is also totally fine so everyone can enjoy it !

If this isn’t your cup of tea I totally get that !

In His Arms

Thank you for requesting, sweetie. I kind of went off track a little and I'm sorry :( (If you want me to rewrite it I happily will!) But either way, I hope you enjoy it!

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Overwhelmed by your growing workload and the pressure to prove yourself, you keep your struggles hidden—even from Matt. When the stress leads to a breakdown, he pulls you back, reminding you that love means sharing the load.

TW: Panic attack, mentions of anxiety, pet names (I can't help it), swearing

Masterlist

Stress was a familiar feeling to you. Its sharp claws seemed always to be gripping onto you tightly. You’ve learnt how to manage the lack of air in your lungs and the painful squeezing of your heart whenever you go through a rough patch.

That’s why the feeling of anxiety creeping up your spine was carelessly ignored. You regret that you shrugged the feeling away, too focused on your work. It’s much easier to calm your bones' nervous trembles before it worsens.

But now it’s too late.

You’ve been so distracted by your work. Your colleague had just gone on maternity leave after giving birth to twins. You weren’t sure what would happen to her workload, but you certainly didn’t think it would all be passed down to you.

Now all your brain can seem to focus on is the deadlines coming closer by the minute. They flash in your mind each time you consider taking a break. You never take a break - this is your one chance to prove to your boss that you’re ready to take on more responsibility. The rumours floating around the office of potential promotions, motivating your hard work ethic.

You’ve always been a hard worker; had always been distracted by what you consider important rather than what was essential- like eating, or sleeping. Each time you got away with it. You didn’t have anyone to look after you.

Until Matt came along.

He’s such an attentive man and would be even without his heightened senses. You knew he’d be worried about your desperation to complete your work, completely gone to the rest of the world as your stomach grumbled louder and your under eyes got darker.

He’s a natural worrier. That’s what compelled you to keep your stress a secret. It’s hard lying to a human lie detector, so you’ve taken to avoiding instead. It’s easy to avoid him when you’re so busy, anyway. A couple of messages per day seems to keep him subdued for now and you’re glad; it’s all the attention you could offer.

Your lip is pulled between your teeth, chewing hard enough to draw the taste of metallic blood. None of the words before you make sense through your blurry eyesight. As you attempt to read the same sentence for the third time, you angrily rip off your glasses and groan.

Black spots take over your vision as you rub at your eyes aggressively, hoping the sickeningly dizzy feeling that’s making your throat feel tight will go away. It’s useless, yet you only allow yourself a second break before gulping down some water and returning to work.

Your phone rings as soon as your fingertips touch the keys of your laptop and a curse slips out of your mouth before you can stop it. You hate yourself for the spark of annoyance that has your blood boiling when you read Matt’s name on your phone.

He’d already left three messages from before. As well as a voice message that you hadn’t yet listened to; you were practically forced to answer the phone so as not to draw concern. You’re determined not to burden him with your issues - he’s a vigilante for God’s sake, he doesn’t need your petty problems on top of his own.

“Hey, Sweetheart.” His deep voice crackles through your phone speaker. Instantly, your shoulders relax and your eyes flutter shut. He’s the bright sun during cold days, the flowers during winter; beautiful and everything you long to see.

“Hey, Matt.” You respond lazily, mustering up enough energy to open your eyes and read the words on your laptop screen. You use one hand to type while the other holds your phone to your ear. You can hear his smile in his voice. “I’ve barely talked to you all day. I thought you were coming to mine for dinner. Did you get my voicemail?”

Guilt nags at your stomach. “I’m so sorry, Matt,” the little sigh you can hear through the other line has your heart splintering, “I’ve just been so busy with staying on top of my work as well as Mara’s-”

“It’s okay. I know how busy you’ve been. I could come by with dinner. I can do some work while you do yours.” You hate to diminish the hope in his voice, but you know he'd be worried about your obvious stress as it shines through in your old clothing and unbrushed hair (not that he’d be able to see but feel).

“Can we do a raincheck?” You whisper, guilt nagging at your stomach. His voice is so sweet. So understanding. It makes you want to cry. “Of course, baby. Try to eat, please. And take breaks. I’ll call you tomorrow; maybe we can go out for lunch.”

“Maybe,” If I’ve got enough work done, “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

You drop your phone on your lap as soon as the call ends. For once, you’re thankful for the large amounts of work, as it distracts you from the guilt that claws and tugs at your skin.

⚝⚝⚝

The second time Matt calls, you’re nose-deep in paperwork that was slammed down on your desk. ‘More of Mara’s work,’ your boss said before leaving you with the rasing anxiety in your chest. Thoughts of taking your lunch break didn’t even assimilate in the blurry haze of your mind.

Only the shrill ring of your phone brought you out of your bubble of work. Sighing, you don’t bother to check the name before picking it up, as you already know who it is. “Hey, Matt.” Your hand still scribbles words on the paper, phone pressed awkwardly against your ear by your shoulder.

“Hey. I called to see if you wanted lunch, but you sound busy.” Unlike last time, his voice doesn’t soothe your racing heart. If anything he makes it worse. “I’m so sorry,” you hope he can hear the sincerity in your voice, “I miss you. As soon as the crazy amount of work has subsided, I’ll call you.”

“Is there any way I can help?” You can’t help but smile at his caring nature, wanting nothing more than to be with him. But you know if you went to lunch you’d be too focused on work to be good company. “Remember that I love you?”

His laugh makes your heart melt, anxiety melting away with it. “Of course. As long as you remember that I love you. I won’t call so I don’t distract you from your work, but please take care of yourself. I love you so much, honey.”

“I love you too.” You hang up the phone and instead of returning to work immediately, you just sit there in silence, staring at the piles of paperwork in front of you. The sting of unshed tears joined by a nervous feeling in your stomach is enough to make you want to throw up. You’re so tired.

You should have listened to your body. You should have gone out for lunch and taken a break. But instead, you got back to work, ignoring the bright red signs of a panic attack on the rise.

⚝⚝⚝

Having been diagnosed with anxiety when you were younger, you’ve learned to identify signs of an upcoming panic attack. First, you begin to feel dizzy, then a little lightheaded. Your heart begins to hurt, and your stomach starts to turn. Then you can’t breathe, and you’re scratching at your skin to give your lungs more space to breathe.

Now, as you stand in your kitchen, staring at the piles of paperwork that cover the dining room table, it’s hard to ignore how your body reacts to the sight of the never-ending workload; the feelings you so carelessly ignored before forced to be brought to attention.

Your eyesight is unfocused, and you are unable to concentrate on the hand you’re using to prepare a small dinner. Your hands violently shake by your side and feel incredibly weak. But that isn’t what worries you; it’s the lack of air entering your lungs that has your eyes squeezed shut.

Feelings of worthlessness travel up your throat and block your airways. You’re having a panic attack. The realization has you sliding down the fridge and to the floor, tears running freely down your flushed cheeks. You bring your knees to your chest, hands scratching at your throat as if it would allow air into your beaten lungs.

Your body feels so weak, you’re sure you wouldn’t be able to stand up if you tried. You’re lost to the darkness and anguish the past weeks have wrought upon you; lost to the cruel insecurities your mind created to fool you into this vicious despair.

No matter how hard you cry, how hard you claw and scrape at your skin, you still can’t breathe. Hopelessness washes over your chilled skin, pulling you into its shadows. You can do nothing but let it take you as its own, the fight for air warring off as you succumb to the darkness that spots your eyes.

And as your eyes flutter shut, you fail to notice the opening of the window in the living room. You fail to notice the hurried steps and the gloved hands that hold your face gently. Or the man’s desperate calls of your name.

⚝⚝⚝

The first thing you notice when you regain consciousness is the exhaustion that wracks through your frail body. The second thing is the man who lays next to you on your bed.

Matt.

He’s sleeping peacefully, chest moving up and down in slow breaths. You frown, unsure of why he’s here. The last thing you remember was you freaking out about the workload and having a panic attack. You must have fainted from the lack of air, you consider then immediately cringe. How embarrassing.

“What are you thinking about?” You jump at the sound of Matt’s deep voice, eyes shooting up to watch a small smile grace his face at your reaction. “Why are you here?” The question comes out ruder than you intended, but Matt’s smile doesn't waver.

“I was on patrol,” he begins, pulling you into his warm embrace, “and figured I’d stop by to check on you. I wasn’t going to come in, just listen-”

“-that’s not creepy at all-”

“-then I heard you panicking. Your heart was beating really fast and you were breathing really heavily. You were already passed out from lack of air by the time I was inside.” He pulls you in tighter like the moment still haunts him. You trace your fingertips gently down his bare arm, ear against his chest as you listen to his heartbeat.

“What happened, sweetheart?” He asks when it became clear you weren’t going to speak. You sigh. “I’ve been a little stressed lately. And I should’ve listened to my body but I didn’t. There’s just so much work and such little time. I can’t handle all of this workload.” The familiar bite of tears has you shoving your head in Matt’s neck, letting him hold you tightly and reassure you that everything will be okay.

“Why didn’t you tell me? We could have worked through your stress together,” He questions quietly and you shake your head in response. “You take the burden of everyone else’s problems, and still go out every night to face all the bad guys- I just didn’t want to burden you with my problems on top of all the rest.”

He pulls away and you try not to frown at the lack of contact. Slowly, his fingers move under your chin and compel you to look into his beautiful, unfocused eyes that sparkle in the city lights shining through your windows. “You are not a burden. Your problems are not a burden. I want to be here for you. I want you to tell me what’s going on in that smart little head of yours-” He flicks your forehead playfully before giving it a small kiss “-And I want you to know you can talk to me.”

You nod your head slowly, feeling like a child that’s just been scolded. “Okay.” He lays there in silence for a moment, seemingly contemplating his words before he speaks, “I think you need to talk to your boss,” you open your mouth to protest but he cuts you off with a gentle squeeze, “This amount of work isn’t healthy. I mean, why hasn’t the workload been separated and passed around to all of your co-workers? It’s fucking stupid if you ask me. She’s obviously taking advantage of your brilliance-”

“-Matt,” You cut him off with an amused smile. His eyes glint at the sound of your giggles as if that was his mission all along and he won first place.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. If anything I’m being selfish.” He grins cheekily, kissing your palm as it raises to cup his cheek. “And why, pray tell, are you being selfish?” Your smile is sly and knowing.

“Because I’m doing this to get my beautiful girl back and into my arms. Foggy isn’t as good company as you, y’know.” You giggle, holding him tightly as your mind settles on a decision. “I’ve missed you too.”

Tomorrow you’ll call your boss and ask for a lessened workload. But for now, you’re just going to lay in bed with the man you love dearly and let him hold you tightly.

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matt-murdockk · 16 days ago

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I can fix him (no really I can)

They shake their heads saying, "God help her" When I tell them he's my man But your good Lord doesn't need to lift a finger I can fix him, no, really I can And only I can

college!matt murdock x fem!reader | fluff— a whole lotta fluff | sorta friends to lovers? | fic from reader's pov, then a pov switch to third person

Matt Murdock famously doesn't stick around for longer than a month, tops. You were determined to change that.

Pre-law golden boy with an aura that exudes confidence, Matt was the person everyone either wanted to be, or wanted to be with. He knew that, and his faux modesty only made it worse for the masses desperate to get a piece of him. Am I one of—? Please, I'd fuck a tree before I fuck Matt Murdock. Not that I hate him or anything. I'm just not on the bed anyone with abs and a personality bandwagon. Good for him for all that attention he's getting, but my ties with him start and end in class. He's just a classmate.

Okay, maybe not just a classmate.

We share notes. Sometimes. Only when he forgets his, which is rare, because apparently being hot and capable is a combo this man insists on wielding like a goddamn weapon. Once, he offered to buy me coffee as a thank you and I made the mistake of saying yes. We ended up talking for an hour. One hour. And somehow I left that conversation knowing his middle name, his favourite diner his dad used to take him to, and exactly what kind of espresso he drinks before a big exam.

It was fine. It’s fine. People have conversations all the time. I’m not spiraling.

We became friends. Real ones. That was the problem.

Because here’s the thing: Matt Murdock is a disaster.

Not on paper. No— on paper, he’s perfect. He’s top of the class, charming when he wants to be, a little cocky, but in a way that makes you laugh instead of wanting to push him down the stairs.

But spend enough time around him and you start to notice things.

Like how he never lets anyone get close. Like how he flirts with half the campus but every single one of his flings ends in vague silence and awkward glances the next day. Like how he knows exactly how to listen to someone but refuses to let anyone hear him.

It’s not a red flag. It’s a goddamn red parade.

So of course I did what any completely normal person with an ounce of self-preservation would do.

I caught feelings for that bastard.

Of course, it's the emotionally unavailable mess with enough red flags to decorate a fucking carnival that catches my attention. Just my goddamn luck.

And, in a moment of sheer lunacy, decided I could fix him.

No really, I could. Just needed time. And patience. And maybe a crowbar for emotional extraction. Whatever. I’ve done harder things. If I can survive Mr Vasquez's class, I can survive whatever this is.

I just have to make sure he never finds out I like him. And also make him like me back. And maybe heal years of trust issues in the process.

Easy, right?

Well, it wasn’t.

Because what started as some deranged attempt to break into the fortress that is Matt Murdock turned into something else entirely. We became friends. Real friends. Somewhere along the way, it stopped being about fixing him and started being about just… being there.

And God help me, I think he needed that more than anything.

It wasn’t just me and Matt anymore, either. Foggy came into the picture fast— bright-eyed, effortlessly funny, with an incredible ability to sniff out bullshit in under five seconds. The three of us? Unstoppable. Study sessions, lunch breaks, late-night coffee runs before an exam. They were my people.

So yeah. The plan backfired. Spectacularly. But I had friends for life now, so I couldn’t exactly call it a failure.

It didn’t mean it stopped hurting, though.

Matt’s life… it wasn’t easy. I could see it in the way he shut down when he was overwhelmed, how he buried himself in work instead of letting anyone in. Some nights he looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks, but he’d still crack a joke just to make Foggy laugh.

And when he was with other women— when he flirted like it was a language only he spoke— it hurt. Even when I told myself I didn’t have a right to feel that way. He wasn’t mine. I made sure of that.

I’d smile through it. Tease him, even. Make some stupid quip about his tragic taste in women and let the ache settle where no one could see it.

Except Foggy noticed.

He always does.

One afternoon— study session turned snack break in our usual booth— Foggy caught me staring too long. Matt was across the room talking to a girl from one of our electives, charming smile and all.

“You okay?” he asked, nudging me with his elbow.

I blinked. “Yeah. Fine.”

“You sure? Because that definitely wasn’t your ‘fine’ face. That was your ‘I’m swallowing feelings and pretending to be emotionally stable’ face.”

I sighed, resting my chin on my palm. “He’s not doing anything wrong.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

I turned to him. “Foggy, I’m not gonna pull a dramatic ‘what are we’ in the middle of a group project. Matt may be a lot of things, but you really cannot force him to be something he doesn’t want to be.”

Foggy frowned. “But do you think he doesn’t want—?”

“Matt would probably suck at relationships,” I said, more tired than bitter. “Like, actual long-term ones. He likes the chase, he likes the moment. And that’s fine. He’s allowed to live how he wants. I just… I’m happy being his friend. Genuinely. Give it time. I’ll get over it.”

Foggy was quiet for a second. “That was… wildly mature.”

“Yeah well, personal growth is a bitch.”

He grinned. “Still. If it helps, he’s not as smooth as he thinks.”

I snorted. “No, but he is absurdly pretty. That makes up for a lot.”

We let the topic die after that. I figured that was the end of it.

I didn’t know Matt had heard.

—————————————————————————————————

Third Person POV

Matt had only come back for his notebook.

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. He hadn’t meant to hear that.

But he had.

He stopped just shy of the hallway corner, heart thudding loud in his chest. The way her voice dropped when she said “I’ll get over it.”

The words hit harder than he expected.

She thought he’d be a bad boyfriend.

Worse— she didn’t even think he was worth trying.

And Matt knew— he knew— he hadn’t been great. He had a lot on his plate, a whole goddamn feast of mess, but he never once thought she saw him like that. Not undeserving.

She didn’t know he stayed up wondering what it’d feel like to kiss her. For real. Without laughing it off or playing it cool. She didn’t know how often his fingers hovered near hers and didn’t reach. How badly he wanted to.

But if she thought he wasn’t capable of it? Of loving her the way she deserved?

He had to change that.

Not just for her. For him. For the version of himself he wanted to be—the kind that could love someone, openly and fully, without messing it up.

“Jesus,” Foggy muttered when he saw Matt later that night. “You look like you saw a ghost. Or rather... felt a ghost? I don't know, man.”

“I heard something,” Matt said, collapsing onto his bed, voice low.

“Define ‘something.’”

“(Y/N) said I’d be a bad boyfriend.”

Foggy blinked. “Okay. Context?”

Matt dragged a hand over his face. “She was talking to you. In the booth. Earlier.”

Foggy raised his brows. “You, uh, you were there?”

“I forgot my notebook.”

Foggy held up his hands. “Alright, okay. First off— she didn’t say you’d be a bad boyfriend. She said you’d probably suck at steady relationships. Big difference.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah, because you’ve never tried a steady relationship. Which is kind of the point.”

Matt groaned. “I need to fix this.”

Foggy stared. “Okay, I’m gonna need you to walk me through your version of fixing this.”

Matt sat up. “I’m gonna prove her wrong.”

Foggy blinked. “You’re gonna… ask her out?”

“No,” Matt said quickly. “I mean— yes. Eventually. But first I need to become the kind of guy she thinks could be a good boyfriend. You know. Change her mind.”

Foggy pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jesus Christ. Just fuck already.”

Matt frowned. “What?”

Foggy threw his hands in the air. “You like her. She likes you. I have seen you two. Why do you think you want her to stay longer after we're done studying? Why do you think you linger? Why do you think you bring her coffee and save her a seat and remember her deadlines better than your own?”

Matt opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

“She fell first, you fell harder,” Foggy said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You know the drill, man.”

Matt stared.

“…Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. My brother in Christ, you’re in love.”

Matt exhaled.

“…Shit.”

——————————————————————————————————

Matt didn’t sleep that night.

He lay awake, headphones in, a lecture playing that he didn’t hear, the words echoing over and over again in his head.

“She fell first.”

“You fell harder.”

He didn’t even realize when it happened. Somewhere between her snorting at his awful Latin puns and handing him half her sandwich because he forgot to eat again— he’d fallen. And now she thought he was incapable of loving her the way she deserved.

It felt like a punch to the chest.

But instead of wallowing, he decided to do something.

Starting now.

The next morning, Matt showed up to your apartment with coffee. Your exact order. No text beforehand. No heads-up.

You opened the door in pajama shorts and a hoodie, one sock on and a pen still tucked behind your ear.

“Matt?”

He held up the coffee like it was a peace offering. “You mentioned your 9 a.m. was with Vasquez today. I figured you’d need a hit of caffeine and a minor miracle.”

You blinked. “…That’s weirdly thoughtful of you.”

He smiled. “I’ve been working on that.”

And then he left. Just like that.

No flirting. No lingering.

Just… left.

You stared after him, cup in hand, completely thrown.

It didn’t stop there.

Matt started walking you to class. All the time.

Not just when you happened to be heading the same direction. On purpose.

He’d show up at your building with some excuse— “I needed air,” or “Foggy wasn’t ready yet”— and fall into step beside you like it was routine.

Then came the favors. Printing your notes when the Wi-Fi was down. Fixing the broken strap on your bag. Letting you drag him to that awful late-night diner when you were too wired to sleep.

You didn’t get it.

This wasn’t how Matt Murdock operated.

Matt Murdock flirted, ghosted, and moved on.

This? This was effort.

It was also torture.

Because the more he did it, the more you started to hope. Stupid, dangerous hope. Maybe he did like you. Maybe this wasn’t one-sided after all.

But every time you thought about asking, about saying something— he’d flash that same unreadable smile and change the subject.

So you kept your mouth shut. Kept watching. Waiting.

Hoping.

Meanwhile, Foggy was losing his mind.

“You can’t just— Matt, you cannot boyfriend her without telling her.”

Matt frowned, folding his arms. “I thought this was the part where I prove myself.”

“To who? To her? She already likes you. You’re not proving anything except that you’re allergic to communication.”

“I’m building a foundation.”

Foggy looked pained. “You’re building a bad sitcom plot. Just tell her.”

Matt hesitated. “She said she didn’t want that. She said she’d get over me.”

Foggy sighed so hard, his soul probably left his body.

“Matt. Listen to me. She said that because she didn’t think she could have you. You have ghosted every girl before her, remember?”

Matt winced. “Not every—”

“Every.”

“…Fair.”

Foggy ran a hand down his face. “You’re gonna lose her if you don’t speak up.”

Matt didn’t respond.

Because deep down, he knew it was true.

——————————————————————————————————

It started with Foggy texting you.

Which was already suspicious, because Foggy never texted first unless Matt was—

foggy: hey can you swing by the quad after class?

foggy: matt’s planning something

foggy: i’m scared :,)

Now, when someone like Foggy— sweet, unshakeable, usually-down-for-anything Foggy— is scared, you listen. You changed your route and headed toward the quad.

And promptly stopped dead in your tracks.

Because what the hell were you looking at.

Matt Murdock stood on a bench.

On a goddamn bench. In broad daylight. Holding what looked like a beat-up portable speaker above his head like he was channelling John Cusack in Say Anything.

Button-down rolled to the elbows. Hair tousled like it’d been run through about seven too many times. Foggy was standing off to the side looking like he was actively regretting every life decision that brought him here.

“Oh no,” you whispered. “Oh no.”

A group of students was already watching, phones half-raised. Matt didn’t seem to care.

You watched, frozen, as he raised a hand and cleared his throat. Actually cleared his throat. Like he was about to deliver a valedictorian speech. You saw Foggy mutter don’t do it, like a prayer.

Matt did it anyway.

“I, uh… I know this is weird,” he began, voice carrying over the quad, “but I have something to say. Something important.”

The crowd murmured. A few giggles. One guy yelled “Murdock, you proposing?” which earned a sharp shut up from someone else. Foggy, probably.

Matt ignored it. His face was dead serious. “There’s someone I’ve been an idiot about. Someone smart and stubborn and too good to waste time on someone like me. But she did anyway. She does. And if she’s here—” his head turned slightly “— I want her to know I’m sorry. And that I like her. A lot.”

You blinked.

Foggy made frantic eye contact with you from the sidelines and mouthed stop him.

But you couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

Matt continued. “I was scared, okay? I thought I’d ruin it. Ruin her. But then I realized I’d rather screw up trying to be with her than let her go without even trying. So, (Y/N),” he called, voice way too confident for a man committing this level of social suicide. “This one’s for you.”

A soft click, followed by the unmistakable synthy intro of Truly Madly Deeply by Savage Garden.

Savage. Fucking. Garden.

You clapped a hand over your mouth.

Someone nearby went “What is happening?”

Matt? he looked hopeful.

And you— stupid, stunned, wildly endeared— were just about to take a step forward when—

Cue the sprinkler system turning on.

Every. Single. Sprinkler.

They sputtered, then blasted to life across the quad like a synchronized ambush. A collective scream rose as people scrambled away, books and phones held over heads.

Matt? Got hit square in the chest, earning a strained Jesus from him.

Foggy somewhere in the periphery muttering “I told him” like a man in mourning.

You? Soaked. Wide-eyed. Laughing.

You actually had to cover your mouth, you were laughing so hard.

Matt stepped down, water dripping from his sleeves. He looked around like he was being personally smitten by the gods. It was like the universe waited for maximum dramatic tension just to drop the punchline.

The song cut out with a strangled sputter as the speaker died a wet, heroic death. Students screamed. Matt cursed under his breath as he was immediately soaked. Foggy, who had clearly seen this coming, was already power-walking toward the nearest tree, muttering “I’m too pretty for this.”

You stood there in shock as water poured down on everyone.

And then— you burst out laughing.

You couldn’t help it. Couldn’t stop it. You doubled over, drenched, laughing so hard it echoed louder than the chaos around you.

Matt stood on the bench, blinking water from his lashes, the speaker dangling uselessly from one hand. He looked like a wet, confused puppy. A hot wet confused puppy. Weird analogy. But still.

You pushed your hair from your eyes and walked over, completely soaked.

“This was your grand romantic gesture?” you asked between giggles.

He ran a hand down his face, sopping. “It was supposed to be better.”

You looked up at him, the pathetic speaker still crackling faintly in his grip. “It was absolutely ridiculous.”

A pause.

You smiled. “It was perfect.”

Foggy squelched up behind you both. “Okay, you’ve both had your romcom moment, can I go home now? My socks are... squishy.”

Matt turned to him, still trying to catch his breath. “Thanks for… whatever part you played in this.”

“I want that thank you in writing,” Foggy muttered. “And a refund for emotional distress.”

You turned back to Matt.

“Do I get to keep the boombox?”

He grinned. “It’s mostly water now. But sure.”

You took a slow step closer. “So… boyfriend material yet?”

He reached out— careful, gentle— and brushed a piece of wet hair behind your ear. “Getting there.”

And then you kissed him.

In the middle of the quad. Soaked to the bone. Surrounded by students who definitely started applauding and whistling, because of course they did.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, Foggy just shook his head.

“Seriously. I hate you both.”

You smiled at him. “Love you too, Fog.”

And Matt?

Well, he didn’t run.

Not this time.

a/n: alright so the fic took a detour from what i had originally planned, it was going to be angst, reader was going to be fwb with matt, and well it's a whole thing, a lot of changes happened but i didn't change the title because well i got attached. i know it doesn't really make sense now with how the story turned out, but i'm leaving it in the story anyway, hope you liked it!

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cellophaine · 3 months ago

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PAIRING: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

RATING: Mature.

STATUS: Ongoing.

UPDATE: Every other Thursday.

SERIES SUMMARY: Suffering from an injury that takes you away from the thing you love most – ballet, coupled with the mistreatment from the dance company you've been with since you were 18, you decide to turn a new leaf and take a chance on a job posting that isn't in your field. At your lowest, you meet Matt, a kind and charming stranger who promises a night of distraction and breakfast in the morning. But, a twist of fate reminds you, once again, that good things are a luxury you can't afford.

TIMELINE CONTEXT: After Daredevil Season 3.

WARNINGS: Sexual contents, angst, slow burn, unfair treatment in the workplace.

Chapter I: En avant

Chapter II: Dégagé

Chapter III: À terre

Chapter IV: Entrechat

Chapter V: En croix

Chapter VI: Developpe

Chapter VII: Arriéré

Chapter VIII: Fouetté

Chapter IX: Relevé

Chapter X: Frappé

Chapter XI: Derrière

Chapter XII: En l’air

...

Get notified when a new chapter is posted by following my sideblog @cellophaine-archives

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allllium · 3 months ago

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⋮ Matt Murdock / Daredevil ⋮

{ Oneshots }

↳ Pinky Promise ⋮ [Matt tells you he's Daredevil]

↳ Cuddles ⋮ [Tired Matt coming home from patrol]

↳ Cat ⋮ [Reader finds a "cat"]

↳ I Promise I'll Try ⋮ [Reader stays up for Matt]

↳ Peter ⋮ [Matt brings home a kid]

↳ Christmas Eve ⋮ [Matt and Reader celebrate their first Christmas together]

↳ Perfect For Me ⋮ [Matt comforts insecure reader]

↳ Taste Test ⋮ [You don't think Matt's senses are as strong as he says they are]

{ Drabbles }

↳ Coming Soon...

{ Series }

↳ Coming Soon...

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avengerstower-houseplant · 1 year ago

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Oh fuck yes! The way I need this so damn badly! That smug bastard would 100% see through my ass but let’s be real, I really couldn’t be blamed for any of my actions lol

Also, College!Matt has to be a warning of his own

Stolen Glances (College!Matt Murdock x College!Fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! I've been on a writing hiatus after feeling uninspired after a long while, and I think it's kind of helped reset my creative juices. I'm entering my busy season at work, so I don't know how much time I'll have for writing in the future, but I'm back to feeling more like myself. I figured one of the best ways to return to writing was with some College Matt! Enjoy! :)

Summary: Your best friend convinces you to go out with her to a bar to celebrate the start of spring break, and to your surprise, the night takes an unexpected turn for the better when your friend calls over two people she knows from her law classes—one of whom you just so happen to have a huge crush on.

Warnings: Flirting, swearing, reader nickname (not-name specific) drinking, kissing, getting caught in the rain, smut (oral-f!receiving, Matt's mouth being a menace, praise kink, Matt being a lil' tiny touch possessive, Matt lightly biting at Reader's shoulder, p in v protected sex, aftercare)

Other Characters: Foggy Nelson, OFCs

Word Count: 6,084

“Stop staring,” Amy says as she sips her drink.

“I’m not,” you murmur as you roll your beer bottle absentmindedly on the sticky bar counter of Josie’s. How Amy even got you out tonight is beyond you. You don’t go to bars. You’re not even a big fan of going out in general. But tonight, you caved, and followed her in the rain to a dive bar in Hell’s Kitchen for cheep beer, gossip, and people watching. And it’s people watching that lead your eyes to land on one of the prettiest men you’ve ever seen. Matt Murdock—enter frantically smitten swoon here. He’s a law student with a voice like honey, a smile that could light up a room, and the best ass in the entire world.

Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, you had to stumble into the one that he was in.

“You are,” Amy counters.

“Not.”

“Are.”

“Fine,” you sigh. “Glancing. Let me have this.”

“He’s single, you know. Broke up with the girl he was dating all last year.”

“Which means he’s not looking for anyone.”

“Or he rebounds fast and wants to get under someone. Er, have someone get under him. Hell, I don’t know what he’s in to.”

“Ames.”

“What? I’m just speculating. Just like you are ogling him.”

“Again, not ogling. Glancing. Besides, he’s way out of my league. And you know what? This, right here, is a perfect situation for me—it’s a crowded bar, he’s blind, no one here knows me or cares about me and won’t think twice of me looking in that direction. This is the only time I can pine after someone and not get flustered and weird if he looks in my direction or watch Cindy from my Brontë’s class try to show off her cleavage to get his attention. And she totally would, event to the one guy that literally can’t see it. Which brings me back exactly to my point—he can’t see us here or the undoubtedly big heart shapes my eyes are in.”

“What if his friend does?”

“He has his back to us, he won’t—.”

“FOGGY!”

“You are a major asshole, you know that?” you hiss as you whip your head around to scowl at her.

“Well, now, you can glance up close, see the finer details. Maybe accidentally touch his big arms?” she says with an innocent smile and delightfully raised eyebrows. “Or something else big.”

“Be nice.”

“I’m always nice. Besides, they’re my friends. You survive Professor Murphy’s class together, you’re blood brothers for life—Hey, Fog! Murdock!”

“I didn’t know you guys came to Josie’s,” Foggy smiles as they get close enough to where the two of you sit. “If I had, I would’ve invited you to some of our post-test outings.”

“Well, Kitty here is a lightweight, so it’s not often I get to bring her to bars. I think I finally convinced her because it’s the Friday before spring break and she doesn’t have to do homework right this moment,” Amy hums. She so knows what she is doing, and you don’t know if you should kick her in the shins or be eternally grateful for how Matt turns his head to you next.

“Kitty?” Matt smiles, and it makes your cheeks burn. He wets his lips lightly as he turns his body toward you, and you can’t help but duck your gaze and shrink in on yourself a bit.

“An unfortunate nickname that has followed me since I was four and can’t seem to shake,” you explain. “Now that I’m not four, (Y/N) just fine.”

“It’s cute, though. Maybe you’ll tell me the story.”

Fuck, why’d he have to say it like that? You’d tell him absolutely anything he’d want if he spoke to you like that again.

“Maybe,” you breathe. “Maybe not.”

The smile he flashes you is soft, dreamy, and alluring. “Someday it is, then.”

“Why don’t you two take a seat with us?” Amy asks as she swallows the last of her drink. “Have a few rounds with us. I mean, you guys know me, but let’s include (Y/N) into the fold. Probably good that you two legal goobers befriend an English major. Help you guys avoid being duped in a contract or something because of semantics or syntax or something.”

“Offense,” Foggy scoffs.

“(Y/N)’s worst is still better than your best, and you know it.”

“Down, Ames,” you chuckle, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Remember what I said about being nice?”

“Amy? Nice?” Matt smirks. “I’m afraid we haven’t earned that privilege.”

“So, how long have you known Amy?” Foggy asks as he waves Josie over for another round.

“Too long,” you chuckle, earning you a playful kick under the bar.

“Harsh,” Matt hums.

“For someone who’s basically my sister? Nah. We’ve been friends since we could toddle around,” Amy shrugs. “You two should understand that one—I mean, roommates for two years and essentially an identical course load? You’re as good as brothers.”

“Very true,” Foggy smiles as he opens his next beer. “I mean, sure, Matt got all the good looks, but I have the boyish wit and knack for sarcastic comments.”

“Seems like a pretty perfect pairing to me,” you add.

Foggy claps Matt’s back with a big smile. “See that, pal? Even the people that just meet us can see we’re a perfect match! Murdock and Nelson, taking New York City law by storm! Rolling in the money, the biggest of the bigs wanting us on retainer!”

“A real life Harvey Spector and Mike Ross,” Amy says with a playful roll of her eyes.

“Take it from a blind man, Nelson and Murdock has a better ring to it,” Matt hums as he sips his beer. “And while money is nice, there’s still something really nice about saving the world.“

“Matty the Martyr,” he sighs. “You know, (Y/N), my parents wanted me to be a butcher.”

“Fog, please, not the butcher story!” Matt begs.

“Yeah, please,” Amy seconds. “(Y/N) doesn’t need to hear it.”

“Ugh, tough crowd tonight,” he sighs. “You’ll hear about it, (Y/N) . . . someday.”

“Mildly ominous. Definitely non-threatening,” you grin before everyone starts to laugh. “So, what brings you guys out? Is this a post-test outing?”

“Nah, just a Friday night,” Matt smiles.

“Well,” Amy says, holding up her new drink. “To just a Friday night.”

You all clink the necks of the bottles together before you drink, chatting briefly before Amy playfully insults Foggy’s pool playing skills. The two of them down their drinks before they make their way to the pool table to prove one another wrong.

“I don’t know how those two are friends, sometimes,” Matt chuckles.

“Well, Amy has three brothers,” you hum. “She loves pushing people’s buttons like that.”

“And Foggy doesn’t back down from challenges like that. Although, I agree that Amy could wipe the floor with Fog at pool.”

You laugh, biting your lip from laughing too loud in the bar. “I won’t tell him you said that.”

“Eh,” he squeaks. “I think he knows where I stand on his pool skills. I mean, a blind guy can beat him.”

You feel your face grow hot with the attention he’s giving you, but it’s all very welcome as you both begin to chat about whatever comes to your minds. For how pretty he is and how flustered you get talking into to people you find attractive, conversation comes so easily with Matt. You feel like you could tell him anything. But that’s the dangerous thing—there’s no way this could work, as a friend or for whatever your brain could dream up. He’s too . . . magnetic. You’d misread something, and in the end, you’d be the one getting hurt. Besides, if you’ve learned anything from Amy, part of being an attorney is learning how to charm the pants off of whomever you’re talking to. And unfortunately for you, you’re just the girl at the bar he’s trying to schmooze only to never see again.

“(Y/N)?” he asks, trying to catch your attention.

“Hm?” you hum, snapping out of it.

His face is soft, but definitely concerned. “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” you stutter. “I was just thinking of something.”

He raises his eyebrows, silently asking if you want to talk about it, but a small pang in your chest makes you want to run away and hide in a corner.

“I don’t think pool is supposed to take that long,” you say, changing the subject and craning your neck around the bar to try and spot your friends. “I have absolutely no idea where Amy went. It looks like Foggy’s gone, too.”

Matt lets out a small, breathy laugh with a knowing grin.

“Do you want to share the joke with the class?”

“Fog’s been on my case lately about meeting new people. I wouldn’t be surprised if he conspired with Amy.”

“You know, I’d say that’s impossible, but Amy is always trying to set me up and calling me Hermit Homebody.”

“Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue like 'Kitty'.”

“It’s more alliterative, though.”

“So,” he hums, turning his body toward yours. “What’s the story behind Kitty?”

“You’re gonna judge.”

He holds out his pinky to you. “No judgement. Promise.”

You lick your lips before you move your hand to lock your pinky with his.

“I really loved Hello Kitty when I was little. I basically wanted to be Hello Kitty. Like, absolutely obsessed—alarm clock, bedsheets, plushies, the whole shebang. I even dressed like Hello Kitty. Yellow shirt, blue overalls or an overall dress, and a red bow in my hair, and I had Hello Kitty socks to wear with my sneakers or little Mary Jane’s. It made getting dressed easy, but it definitely annoyed my mom after a bit.”

“That’s really cute.”

“It’s really not,” you chuckle.

“It is, trust me. And, if it makes you feel any better, a lot of free public domain braille texts were legal documents; after the accident that blinded me, that’s all my dad could really get me between hospital bills, trauma therapy and recovery, and our regular bills. I read a lot of Frederick Douglas while he did boxing practice. Between reading those and my dad’s hope for me to get a good job and use my brain instead of my fists, that’s what drove me to be a lawyer. I’m not sure I would have applied to law school if not for that.”

“Wow. That’s . . . amazing. Honestly.”

His brows furrow slightly as he tilts his head down slightly. “I like to think that I’m making him proud. But I’m afraid that I’ll end up letting him down eventually. He . . . He gave me so much, he gave up so much. For me.”

You place your hand on his that’s resting atop of the bar, giving it a squeeze. “The fact that you know the extent of your dad’s sacrifices and you’re worried about letting him down means that you couldn’t possibly disappoint him.”

Matt nods and you see his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallows hard. You could swear that you see a tear roll down his cheek, but you’re distracted when he turns his hand over to hold onto yours better, lacing his fingers in yours.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, taking a deep breath. “Hearing that . . . it means a lot.”

“It’s just the truth as I see it.”

“Do you want to get out of here?” Matt hums as he turns his head toward you. “We could grab a bite, just walk around.”

“No ulterior motives?”

“Not unless you want me to have ulterior motives.”

You look at him, your heart beating so loudly in your chest, you wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it. “I’m not that kind of girl.”

“Okay,” he breathes. “Then no ulterior motives.”

“I’m not opposed to stopping at the soft pretzel cart that’s a few blocks over, though.”

He gives you a small smile.

“Something funny?”

“Beer and pretzels,” he hums.

“Har har.”

“C’mon,” he says with a little jerk of his head. “Lead the way.”

Putting some money on the counter to cover your drinks, you slide off of the barstool, your hand still in Matt’s as he mimics your movement before unfurling his cane. You both walk in comfortable silence, recalling little anecdotes from your childhoods as you stroll along the route.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you laugh.

“I’m not,” he says with a big smile. “I got so much hell from the nuns for it. Father Lantom put on a little show and was a little mad about it, yeah, but the ‘talking to’ that he gave me was about the Yankees game. In fairness, I honestly did worse when I was younger—probably took years off of all of their lives. Probably still do, when they think too hard about it.”

“Gosh,” you say with another laugh. “You’re such a daredevil.”

“Hey, I’ve turned out just fine. For the most part.”

“Yeah, you’ve got a point. You seem pretty alright.”

“Pretty alright?” he croons. “I’ll take it. Any pointers for how I can increase my ranking, though?”

“Well, if I told you, it’d be too easy,” you smirk as you approach your destination. “Heya, Boyd.”

“Kitty!” he beams. “Long time no see! You’re usual?”

“That’d be great. School’s been busy.”

“You know she’s in Columbia?” he starts to tell Matt. “Smartest girl I know.”

“She is amazing,” Matt says, and you feel your cheeks burn hot.

“Matt’s one of my classmates,” you explain.

“Ah, so you’re a smart one, too. Kitty here is one of a kind—don’t do anything stupid to loose this one.”

“I’ll do my best not to,” he smiles.

“D’you want anything with yours?”

“Mustard, please.”

Boyd hands Matt his pretzel, but puts his hand up when you try to pay.

“Not tonight, Kitty,” he says. “My treat.”

“Don’t be silly, Boyd,” you counter. “You know our rule, only on birthdays.”

“Yeah, but you included me on your date. I feel real special. All warm and fuzzy like.”

Your cheeks burn even hotter when he says “date”— you appreciate that Boyd thinks you’re in the same league.

“Please?” you try.

“Alright. But you’re getting your change back. This one, she always tries to scurry away before I can give her her change back!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she doesn’t escape,” Matt chuckles, his hand resting on your waist, the gentle touch sending goosebumps up your spine.

“Atta boy. You know, I like this one. He ain’t that bad. Here, Kitty. Have a nice night, you two!”

“Night, Boyd!” you smile.

“Nice to meet you,” Matt adds. Once you’re out of earshot, he asks, “How come he can call you Kitty?”

“Because Boyd has known me since I was six,” I chuckle before I take another bite of my pretzel. “You’ve gotta earn it.”

“Oh, so now you’ll let me earn the chance to call you Kitty?”

“If you play your cards right.”

“Sounds like a challenge.”

“You seem like the kind of guy that likes challenges.”

He grins and raises his eyebrows as if conceding to your point before taking a bite of is pretzel, licking up the mustard at the corner of his mouth. The absolutely obscene thoughts that cross your mind when he does that would even make a sinner in church blush—but also appreciate the sentiment. You finish your pretzels quickly, continue to walk aimlessly around and talk about whatever comes to your mind.

“Wow,” you hum as you look at a clock on the other side of the park we’re walking through.

“What?” he hums.

“It’s almost three.”

“Seriously? No.” You feel Matt’s arms shift, and you watch his fingers slide over the face of his watch. “Shit. It’s almost three. I didn’t think we were talking for that long.”

“Me either. Not that I’m complaining about it.”

“Neither am I.”

“Maybe we’re just really slow walkers?”

Matt laughs. “It is a really nice night.”

There’s a comfortable silence before you speak next. “I don’t do this, normally. Go out—go out to a bar, no less—walk with guys aimlessly around the city.”

“Tell people the story of your nickname? Or bring them to meet your pretzel godfather?” he teases gently, and you chuckle softly and nod.

“Definitely not either of those.” You take in a deep breath before you continue. “Something feels different tonight, though, and I like it. And I only started liking it when you and Foggy joined us at our table.”

“Yeah?” he says so softly you almost don’t hear it.

“Yeah,” you confirm.

“If it makes you feel any better, I like it, too.”

Your gaits slow before Matt turns into you, a relaxed, dreamy look on his face. It’s not a face you’ve seen him flash the girls on campus—the cocky, over-confident swagger that’s usually there replaced with something almost dreamy and entirely genuine. Your heart starts to race as he leans in, but you both freeze in place when the sky opens up and you get caught in a sudden downpour. You squeak and he lets out a soft grunt before Matt hand grabs yours, and you rush toward the sidewalk. You raise your hand to wave down an oncoming taxi, and as you both slide in, Matt gives his address to the cabbie.

The ride is short, but it’s definitely better than making the trip in the pouring rain. When the cabbie pulls to the curb, Matt hands him the fare and the tip, opening the door and sliding out first, waiting for you to follow. He uses his large frame to try and shield you from the rain as you run into the lobby of his dorm, tracking in puddles into the elevator.

“Would Foggy mind if I crash here for the night? I mean, what’s left of it,” you ask, your arms hugging yourself as you shiver in front of his door.

“You don’t need to worry about him. He’s staying with his family for the first half of break,” Matt says as he slides the key into the lock, leading you into the very nice dorm apartment. “It’s just us here.”

“Ah,” you hum softly, looking around the space. “I wish my dorm looked like this. I think I chose the wrong major.”

Matt chuckles softly as he moves about the space. “Well, each year we get better housing choices, and the ADA complaint dorms were updated a few years ago. Foggy just reaps the rewards of being my friend.”

“Well, it is very nice. Definitely decorated by boys, though.”

Matt chuckles softly, walking into what you assume is his room before coming back out in pajamas, a folded set of clothes in his extended hand.

“Thanks,” you smile as you take the sweatshirt and sweatpants out of his hands.

“Can’t have you be chilly,” he hums. “Let’s face it—Amy would kill me if I let you catch a cold.”

“You, Foggy, and then me. In that order,” you laugh. “You know, I honestly thought it was done raining for the night.”

“I’m just glad we caught a cab. And that you let me pay.”

“Well, you gave them the address to your dorm. Seemed right that you foot the bill.”

Matt chuckles as you turn to side off your wet clothes and put on his fluffy sweater and sweats. Yes, it feels a little odd to change in front of him, but it’s not like he can see you in your underwear, and you need to get these wet clothes off. And if tonight has taught you anything, Matt is someone you feel comfortable and safe around.

“Let’s hope these dry by the morning,” you say, folding your soaked clothes and putting them over the stool in the kitchen area.

“You can keep them as long as you need. Something tells me I’ll get them back eventually.”

You blush deeply. “In a timely manner. Promise.”

“I’m not gonna force you out when the sun comes up, you know,” Matt continues. “We can go down and throw your clothes into the dryer in the morning. Maybe go grab breakfast after they’re out.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Want to go to the living room?”

“No ulterior motives?” you smirk.

He laughs, and you swear you just made him to blush. “No. Not unless you want there to be,” he responds.

“I don’t think I’d be opposed to some.”

Matt slides off his glasses, placing them on the kitchen table. His eyes sparkle in the moonlight coming through the window, taking a half step forward and placing his hands on your waist. You lean in to help close the space between your bodies, and when his lips finally meet yours, you feel your heart skip a beat as electricity shoots through your veins. You slide your hands up his body to cradle is face as he pulls you in even closer. The kiss is passionate, tender, and everything that a kiss should be. When he pulls back, you’re breathless and dizzy in all the best ways. His forehead rests on yours, and you desperately wish he’d lean in for another kiss.

“Are those acceptable motives?” he whispers, nudging his nose against yours.

“Mm,” you hum. “Very.”

He smiles, leaning in for another kiss, the force of the embrace knocking the back of your legs against the sofa. You pull him into you, knocking the pair of you down on the couch, his body crushing yours in the most glorious of ways for a moment until he can position himself better on the furniture. His hands have a firm grip on your body, sending wave after wave of chills up your spine as you chase his lips for more kisses. One of his large hands cradles the back of your head, holding you closer so he can gain better access to the kiss, and you realize his glasses aren’t perched on his face anymore. You don’t even know when he would’ve have a chance to take them off. But do you really care?

No. No you don’t.

As you make out, Matt slides you onto his lap, giving you a bit more leverage as you embrace. You lips mirror one another’s, curving up into smiles. You take in a sharp breath as you feel his hands slide under the sweater and up your back, the simple action sending goosebumps up your spine. You moan into the embrace and lean forward to deepen it, accidentally nipping his lower lip between yours. It elicits a strong response from Matt, his fingers digging into your skin, sure to leave little bruises as souvenirs before moving up to tug at the hair at the nape of your neck. His fingers should have their own insurance policy, because wherever they trace on your body feels like a million dollars—the warmth, the strength, the grip—goes straight to the apex of your thighs. Firm, relaxing, and downright sinful.

You pull back from the kiss, Matt’s swollen lips chasing yours as you lean away, turning your head to yawn.

“Am I putting you to sleep, sweetheart?” he smirks, softly kissing your neck before moving so his face points toward yours.

“You’re definitely relaxing me, that’s for sure,” you tell him as you look back at his face. “It’s just been a really long week.”

“We can stop if you want.”

“You stop, and I’m telling Amy and Foggy.”

“Oh, well, we can’t have that.”

“No, we can’t.”

With more smiles, you lean back into the kiss. Matt’s grip is firm on your waist before sliding his hands down and over the globes of your ass, moving to your upper thighs before lifting you up. You’re too focused on his lips to try and watch where he’s taking you, even though you have a good idea. You moan into his mouth as you feel Matt lay you down on his mattress.

“At least if you get a little too tired to keep going, you can fall asleep in a bed,” he whispers before he starts to kiss your neck.

“So kind of you.”

“I try.” He presses a soft kiss to your lips. “Can I keep going?”

“Yes. Definitely.”

Matt flashes you a devilish grin before leaning back in, his hands sliding up under the borrowed sweatshirt tracing the curves of your body.

“You can take it off, you know,” you murmur against his lips. “It’s your shirt, after all.”

He hums in delight, doing as you ask and ridding the fabric from your body and pushing it to the side. “You’re chilly now,” he hums kissing all over the exposed skin, pulling soft moans from your throat.

It’s your turn to slither your hands up against his rock-hard body under his clothes, lightly raking your fingernails along his skin. “What’re you gonna do about it?”

“I have a few ideas.”

“Then show me.”

Matt’s lips slot back over yours, tasting every ounce of your mouth that he can. He pulls back, whipping his shirt off. You’re unable to prevent your jaw from dropping when you see his exposed chest, a little wooden cross hanging from a cord around his neck a strong contrast from his fair skin and rippling muscles. It doesn’t hang too long, the space between the two of you closed just as swiftly as it was created before his hands deftly undoes your bra. Matt’s hands slide the straps down your arms, tossing it to the side before his large hands palm at the fleshy mounds, his hips inadvertently beginning to roll against your legs.

“Mm,” you hum as you start to mark his neck. “I’d say we’re moving fast, but, I like where we’re moving. Seems like you do, too.”

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Let me lay you down and make you feel good, angel.”

“Mm, ‘angel’,” you smirk as you pull him on top of you. “Sounds better than ‘Kitty’. Better not be calling any other girls that.”

“It’ll be just for you. Swear.”

“Good.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m gonna try and stop earning the right to call you Kitty, though.”

“Consider it earned. Can even call me Kitten. Now, please tell me you have some condoms here.”

“Mm, I do. But, the thing is, that pretzel left me hungry, angel. I need to eat a little more.”

Your brows furrow before Matt holds your face in his hands, kissing you deeply. He trails his kisses down the column of your neck, moving lower with each embrace, down your chest and torso until his lips reach where your skin and his sweatpants meet.

“Is it okay if I pull these down, sweetheart?” he asks, pressing feather-soft kisses on your stomach. “Can I kiss you there? Can I taste you, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you breathe a little too quickly, moving your fingers into his soft hair. “Please.”

He smiles, kissing your belly button before curling his fingers round the waistband of the sweats and underwear and sliding them down your legs. His strong hands gently part your legs, exposing yourself to him, his soft, pouty lips kissing back and forth along your inner thighs until his nose brushes the slick folds. A soft moan escapes your throat, so quiet that you almost don’t hear it. As soon as it leaves your lips, you swear you hear Matt growl a little before diving in between your legs. This time, you moan louder, your back arching off of the bed and your fingers clutching the sheets.

“Matt!” you squeak. His hands are firm on your hips, keeping his face buried in your core, tasting and savoring you like you’re the sweetest of desserts. Your chest heaves as you squirm against him, but each movement of your body only spurs him on to hold you tighter. He hums into your pussy, the vibrations working all the way up your body.

“M-Matt,” you stutter, feeling yourself get wound tightly as he works diligently between your legs. “Matt, I—oh, fuck!”

Matt just hums, keeping pace and enjoying the taste of you on his tongue. You continue to whimper, whine, and squirm, biting your lip harder as you get closer to your release. You suck in a sharp breath when you feel Matt pull away from you, his face in your direction, his mouth and chin shiny with your slick.

“Don’t hold back, angel. I’ve got you,” he pants. “Make those pretty noises for me. It’s just you and me, okay? Don’t worry about if anyone else can hear. It’s just you and me.”

“Okay,” you say breathily with a frantic nod. “Okay.”

“Good girl.”

You could cum with those two words, and the quick twitch at the corner of his mouth tells me that he knows it, too. With a lick of his lips, he dives back down without missing a beat, sliding two thick fingers into you, gently pumping them and curling his fingers to squish against the perfect spot that makes your vision go spotty. You let out your loudest cry of the night, the sheer volume hurting your throat a little. It elicits a deep growl from Matt, and with one more lick, you’re quaking and unraveling on his face. Little tremors continue to jolt through your body as Matt works to lick up every last drop of you before pressing a soft kiss on your swollen nub and kissing his way back up your body.

You lean up and crash your lips into his, desperate for him. Matt eagerly kisses you back, letting you taste yourself, exploring how you mix with him.

“Are you up for more?” he pants as he pulls back, trying to smooth down your tousled hair.

“Please,” you say, the faintest hint of a whine in your voice. “I’m ready.”

Matt smiles, pecking your lips quickly before leaning back and taking his sweats off. Your eyes involuntarily widen when you see just how big he is. If tonight with Matt hasn’t ruined other men for you yet, the feeling of him inside you and how it will undoubtedly linger for days will.

“You okay?” he pants as he works to slide on the condom.

“I’m doing great,” you swallow, trying to remain coherent through the bliss.

His laugh is like warm tea with honey.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

With the condom firmly on, he leans forward to kiss you slowly. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Matt kisses you again, adjusting the pillows behind you as he lines himself up with your entrance. He places his hands on you gently, forehead resting on yours, before carefully starting to slide in. You bite your lip as your eyes flutter shut, your head suddenly becoming too heavy as you let it roll to the side and rest against his neck.

“Matt,” you breathe.

“Prefect,” he pants as he slowly pushes forward. “Perfect.”

“M-Matt,” you whimper as you stretch around him. “Big.”

“Do you need me to stop?” he whispers. “Does it hurt?”

“N-No. ’s great. So great.”

“Say the word if you need me to stop, okay? If it’s too much?”

“Okay.”

Your faces turn toward one another, and for the briefest of moments, Matt’s eyes lock onto yours. You feel your heart skip a beat and jump up right into your throat. This is ridiculous—tonight is the first time you’ve actually met him rather than stare at him and wish from a distance, and it’s like your entire universe is on its head. Matt tenderly leans forward, his lips on yours, fueled with a softer passion than what has dictated your embraces for the night. The roll of his hips is slow, and you feel everything ten times over. You hold onto Matt as if your life depends on it, and you let him work as he marks up your neck and shoulder with little bites.

“Don’t stop,” you plea. “Don’t stop. Matt, please don’t stop!”

Your pleas and whimpers spur Matt to pick up his pace. As he does so, his own soft moans grow louder in your ear, and it drives you wild. The springs of the mattress move from a quiet creak to an all consuming squeak, perfectly punctuated by the headboard hitting the wall.

“Matt!” you cry out, pulling probably harder than you should at his hair.

“Such a good pussy,” he grunts. “All for me. You’re so good for me, angel. Feel so perfect.”

“Please!”

“Hm?”

“Fuck, Matt! You’re—oooohhhh!”

“Perfect f’me, angel. Such a good girl. My good girl.”

The sound of your slapping skin adds to the erotic symphony in the room, sweat quickly lining your bodies. You whimper as you nuzzle into him, muttering incoherent sentences as his pelvis rubs against your sensitive core, building you up to knock you over with intense pleasure. Your fingernails dig into his shoulders and pull a deep growl from the back of his throat. He nips at the sensitive skin behind your ear before slotting his lips over yours.

“Matt,” you whimper, really drawing out the vowel in his name. “Matt, ‘m gonna cum.”

“Let it out,” he encourages. “Cum for me. Let me feel that pussy squeeze my cock, sweetheart. Let me make you feel good. Let me hear you, angel.”

Matt kisses the sweet spot on your neck and pulls a needy whine from you. A stuttered whine pulls from your lips as your eyes pinch shut and you claw your fingers into Matt’s back. You cry out at the top of your lungs as a second wave of pleasure washes over you. With Matt in you, dragging against every right spot, it feels so much better than with his mouth. He sinks his teeth into your shoulder, and you cry out in pleasure even louder. The pace of Matt’s hips move even faster, albeit at a more unsteady rhythm with an increased sense of urgency as he tries to soothe the sting of his teeth. His moans turn into grunts, a delight to your ears.

“Harder,” you beg. “Harder, Matt.”

You feel Matt nod his head against yours, doing as you ask, his lips brushing faint kisses against your cheek. You cry out once more, Matt’s hips pulling one more orgasm from you as he hits his high, spilling into his condom with punctuated thrusts.

Your breathing is heavy as your bodies still, sweat clinging to your skin and soaking the sheets. You chuckle softly as Matt places gentle kisses along your neck, his nose tickling you just so before pulling himself off of you and sliding out. He does it slowly, and you moan softly from the sensitivity and the loss of him. He ties off the condom, shuffling out of bed to throw it away. Matt briefly rounds the corner, coming back with a towel in hand. Without a single word, he carefully spreads your legs, gently cleaning the mess between your thighs. His lips softly kiss your knees and thighs has he works, and you can’t help but smile. He tosses the cloth to the side, it landing perfectly on the edge of his hamper. Matt slides back into bed, wrapping his arms around you and letting you adjust in his hold, kissing your forehead.

“What?” he whispers so softly you want to melt.

“You have freckles,” you whisper back just as quietly as you look up at him. “They’re a little hard to see, but they’re there.”

“Yeah?” he says with a tender smile.

“Mm.” Carefully, you move your fingers against the skin on his cheek, tracing over the faint constellation on his fair skin.

“What?” he whispers again with a little smirk.

“How do you know I’m thinking?”

“Call it a hunch.”

You smile softly. “It’s just . . . I wasn’t planning on coming out tonight. I don’t go out. I don’t go to bars. I don’t do this. Any of this.”

“I think you mentioned that earlier,” he hums with a cheeky smile. God, his voice is like a warm blanket that you just want to snuggle up in.

“It just felt right, with you. I’m really glad I came out tonight.”

“Can I let you in on a secret?” You give him a hum in response. He pulls you closer and presses a long, slow kiss to your lips. “I’m really, really glad you came out, too.”

Matt Murdock Taglist: @two-unbeatable-beaters @loves0phelia

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x reader fluff #matt murdock x fem!reader fluff #college!matt murdock x reader

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nevarrhoe · 2 months ago

Text

mea culpa (m.m) - 2

SUMMARY: "mea culpa" (exclamation - noun/legal term)

used as an acknowledgement of one's fault or error.

↪ in which matt murdock accidentally falls in love with the district attorney's daughter.

warnings: smut, angst, swearing, fem! reader

masterlist

It was a little hard to stop thinking about Matthew Murdock over the next few days.

Nevermind the fact he’d left hickeys all over your neck - it was the fact he was texting you every few hours with absolutely indescribable fantasies that made it difficult to think about anything else. Your blood would run cold every time your phone buzzed, just on the off chance that one of your friends, or god forbid your father, see your phone screen. It put you on edge in the best way. This entire thing was already beyond fucked up for more than one reason and yet, you wanted more. So much more.

Can’t wait to taste you again.

Can’t wait to hear you scream my name again.

Hope you haven’t been thinking about anyone else.

And it was funny, really, because Matt was a perfectly respectable man from the outside. Quiet, unassuming, a dry sense of humour - you never would have taken him of all people to be the one to make you feel so fucking alive. It wasn’t just how good he was in bed, but rather the thrill of it all. Nothing got your motor running like a situation’s potential to disappoint your father but hey. That was for your therapist to deal with.

Of course, your father had asked several questions about where you’d disappeared too after the gala on Friday. He was more concerned about it had looked for him, and to have his daughter run out on a big charity event. Your mother had been less worried about that part, and more about her vintage Chanel suit. You’d settled both their worries by a) telling your father you’d had stomach problems (because who was gonna ask about that?) and b) promising to send the Chanel off to a dry cleaner.

It was on a slow Monday afternoon - exactly three days after you’d met him - that Matt sent you a not so dirty text. It was so casual, in fact, that it caught you more off guard than any of the filth he’d sent you over the weekend.

Wanna grab lunch?

“Are you okay, honey?”

You blinked, eyes shooting up to your best friend. Okay, maybe not a best friend - those were hard to come by in high-society. She was your most tolerable friend. It had been her idea to get martinis for lunch. Your idea of fun wasn’t exactly sitting around with five rich girls and their daddy’s credit cards but it wasn’t like you had work to do, right?

Part of you so badly wanted to tell them about the escapade over the weekend - about how much better an older guy was than all their ridiculous, frat-house boyfriends, and how good he’d made you feel. But did you trust them? Not with your damn life. And for risk of being cut out of your father’s will, you figured it was something to keep to yourself.

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat. “I gotta ditch. My dad needs me to get something from his office.”

Grabbing your jacket - a tan Chanel parka, naturally - you slid out of the booth and straight out of the restaurant. Matt’s number was dialed into your phone before you even hit the street.

“Matthew, hi!” you greeted him. “I’m down for lunch.”

“Perfect,” you could hear the smile in his voice. “Wanna come by my office?”

“Sure. Want me to grab takeout?”

“It’s okay. I already have lunch here.”

“Okay. Text me the address.”

–

The Nelson & Murdock office wasn’t too far from where you’d been. Hell’s Kitchen wasn’t exactly your stomping ground but your Uber had dropped you off right outside, and you had a taser in your bag. Not to mention the years of Krav Maga and karate that you’d done in high school and college. You could have been a damn vigilante if you wanted to.

It was the shorter, Nelson half of Nelson and Murdock that saw you first. He seemed taken aback at first - maybe by your expensive appearance, but also maybe because every other person in the room was a middle-aged man there for free legal advice. By the looks of your Chanel bag and red-soled shoes, he figured you probably didn’t need any legal advice for free. Especially not from him. It seemed much more apparent that you had the likes of Jeri Hogarth in your pocket should you need any legal assistance.

“Hello. Hi.” Foggy greeted you with wide eyes. “Do you have an appointment?”

“Uh, no,” you turned around to face him, sticking out your hand. “You’re Nelson, right?”

“I am Nelson,” he replied, shocked look still not faltering. “How do you know my name?”

“I’m a friend of Matt’s,” you explained. “I don’t suppose he’s around?”

Speak of the devil. Your conversation was cut short by Murdock’s entrance. He looked hot in a suave sort of way; tie loosened around his neck, top button undone and sleeves rolled up. It was the first time you’d seen him since you’d left his apartment early on Saturday morning and frankly, you didn’t know how to act. Most of the men you slept with didn’t invite you to their offices for lunch - hell, most of them didn’t have offices.

“Hey, Murdock,” you gave him a small wave.

“Hey - come in,” Matt shot you a grin, ushering over to his own office in the corner.

It was neater than you’d thought it would be; there was a laptop perched on his desk, with a braille translator and a stack of legal files. They were probably the same legal files your dad had, just..the other side of the story. After all, Nelson and Murdock were known for looking out for the little guy. That was much more admirable than daddy dearest and his famously corrupt evidence.

“Your shirt fits better today,” you commented, shrugging off your jacket. “That’s a real shame.”

“Is that a comment about my arms or the way I dress?”

“I think you know that it’s about your arms.”

You pushed aside the files, hopping up onto Matt’s desk. He had you caged in within a second, broad hands gripping your hips and guiding you up into a kiss. It was a little softer than the ones you’d shared on Friday night - there was less heat; a causal air to it. You didn’t think it was possible to miss the lips of a man you’d fucked exactly once.

“So,” you murmured against him. “You said you had lunch here.”

“I do,” Matt gave you a shit-eating grin. “You.”

“Matthew!” you hissed, hitting his shoulder. “Did you seriously invite me over here just for a fuck?”

“Not exactly!” he quickly replied, raising his hands in surrender. “I wanted to check in with you and see how you were.”

“Oh, okay,” you raised an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised. “I’m not too bad. I was having lunch with some of my friends when you texted-”

Matt suddenly attached his lips to your neck, teeth gently nipping on the same mark he’d left a few days ago. You didn’t mean to let out a moan, but how could you not?

“Matthew!” you exclaimed again.

“No, go on!” he stopped for a second. “I’m listening. You were having lunch with your friends and…”

“And you texted and I was bored, so I left and - Jesus fucking Christ, that feels so good.”

Matt raised an eyebrow. “You left your friends to see me?”

“I would leave my dying Aunt Betty’s bedside to see you,” you said. Without a second thought, you grabbed him by the tie and pulled him back towards you. “Enough catching up. I’m good to have lunch now.”

He gave you a grin and a few moments later, his hands found your way under your ass. Matt shoved aside the pile of legal papers and moved you further onto the desk, lips back on your neck and working a thousand times harder than they had before. Instinctively, you tangled a hand in his hair and just let him have at it.

The build-up wasn’t as tense as it had been the first time you fucked, but that was because Matt knew you better now. He pretty much had you memorised; the ticklish spot on your neck, the most sensitive spot on your hips, the way you liked his nails to dig into your back just enough to hurt. That was just a testament to him. Who else would remember that? Who else would take the time to learn what you liked after just once?

“Not that I don’t enjoy this,” Matt paused for a second. “But my lunch break isn’t that long. If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna have to be quick.”

“You’re real cheap, Matthew Murdock,” you scowled. “Do you invite all girls over here for a fuck disguised as lunch and then rush them?”

“No, not all of them,” he shot back. “Some are more breakfast kinda gals-”

“- oh shut the fuck up.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him back into a kiss. Matt couldn’t help but smile against you - at how badly you wanted him, how you chastised him but still didn’t stop him.

It was in that moment that you thanked every deity there was that you’d chosen to wear a skirt that day. But frankly, you wouldn’t have given a fuck if Matt had ripped your Versace mini-skirt to shreds. He would have been okay with that too, especially if it meant you have to borrow a shirt of his to leave in.

Still, Matthew Murdock was nothing if not respectable - at least enough so not to destroy your designer clothes. Instead, he simply pushed it up, large hands making their way to your ass cheeks and giving one of them a light slap. You froze when he did - how many clients were out there in the waiting room right now? Even with the blinds closed and the door shut, how many of them could hear what was going on?

“Problem?” Matt paused.

“There are people out there who could hear us-”

“- not with the air conditioning on. Foggy always has it going. Don’t worry.”

You scowled. “How do you know that?”

“Just do.”

Matt wasted no time in resuming his activities. Grabbing you by the hips again, he lifted you with ease and spun you around so that he was the one on the desk, and you were in his lap. The friction of his hard-on in his trousers against your core was almost unbearable and he could tell you were desperate by the way your grip on him suddenly tightened.

“Look at you,” he grinned. There was something about the way his voice dropped four octaves every time he was about to fuck you. “You’re calling me sloppy but you’re gagging for it, aren’t you?”

You let out a small grumble, shaking your head. “I thought you didn’t have time to tease?”

“You’re lucky that I don’t have time to do a lot of the things I want to do to you, sweetheart,” he said. “Everyone out there would be able to hear me fucking you if I didn’t have to be back in twenty minutes.”

“Matthew,” you growled. “I don’t care how long you have - if you’re not inside me in the next thirty seconds, I’m going somewhere else.”

“I didn’t think there would be many men around at this time willing.”

You let out a derivative snort, acrylic nails dragging down his neck and hand settling ever so gently on his throat. “You think I don’t have plenty of offers? You’re not the only man who can make me scream.”

It was almost like your words awakened something in Matt. In a flash, he’d pulled you off the desk and positioned you against it; there was the sound of his belt and a second later, his dick was inside you. Rock hard and beautiful, and the perfect length to have you clenching around him in mere fucking seconds.

He wasted no time in pounding into you from behind, one hand tangling his fingers with yours on the desk and the other wrapped around your throat. You had complete and utter trust in him and maybe that was why you placed your own hand over his and encouraged him to squeeze harder.

Matt’s movements were rapid and consistent: time was of the essence after all, and there was no way in hell he was going back to work until you came.

It didn’t take much, to be honest. Not when you had his gruff voice muttering things in your ear. It was hard not to make noise then - Matt moved his hand from your throat accordingly, clutching it over your mouth in an attempt to muffle your moans. What an ass. Not to mention that it only made you even fucking louder.

“Do they make you feel this good?” he teased. “Do they?”

He managed to hit the right spot over and over and it wasn’t long before you felt that knot in your stomach. It was a plunge; like a plane falling out of the sky, anything that caused a sharp drop in your gut. The room was practically spinning around you as you came undone, red acrylics digging into the skin of Matt’s arm for some kind of relief.

“There we go, sweetheart,” Matt murmured. He softened his pace, slowing down for a minute to revel in his own high. “Good girl.”

He released his hand from your mouth, chest heaving against your back for a minute as you both came down from your respective orgasms. A broad arm wrapped around your waist, steadying you. Matthew Murdock was a gentleman, even when he was rearranging your guts.

You slowly turned around to face him, pulling him into another desperate kiss.

“Are you free tomorrow night?” Matt softly asked.

“Yeah, I am,” you ran a hand down his chest, faltering for a second. “Why? You gonna take me out for dinner?”

“Yeah, but an actual meal. It’s not a euphemism, I promise,” he gave you a grin.

You returned the gesture for a minute, a wide smile on your face - but then it faltered. “Matthew, I would love for you to take me on a date, and I adore spending time with you but…”

“But what?”

“My dad,” you groaned, dropping your head into his shoulder. “If anyone catches me with you, I’m done for - as hot as that is.”

Matt couldn’t help but chuckle. “Okay, fine. What if we just hang out at my apartment and get take out? You can dress like a slob and no-one will see us.”

“Yeah, that sounds great,” your smile quickly returned. “But I am not dressing like a slob. I wear Chanel or I wear nothing.”

“I would much prefer it if you wore nothing.”

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock imagines #matt murdock smut #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock reader insert #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x fem! reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil imagines #daredevil imagine #daredevil smut #daredevil angst #daredevil reader insert #daredevil x fem! reader #daredevil #matt murdock #daredevil born again

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 1 year ago

Note

Hello!

If possible could you write a fic with reader and matt in an established relationship and he hears something when he's around them and it starts driving him nuts and then he finally realizes is a tiny heartbeat bc reader is pregnant but doesn't realize it, and he's like overjoyed?

sorry this is my first time requesting lmao

hii!! this is very cute :( very happy to be first to write one of your requests☺️ thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

HEARTBEATS.

matt murdock x fem!reader

word count. 481

Recently, whenever Matt was near, he wore an expression you couldn't quite place, looking as though he was concentrating - like his brain was preoccupied. You knew he often had a lot on his mind, so you waited the questioning - wanting him to come to you when he was ready, though he never did.

Another week had passed, and he continued to model that same sceptical face around you, still no closer to the route of his confusion.

You're lying on the sofa, basking in the early evening sunset, nursing your nausea and awaiting Matt to return home from the store. He told you he'd briefly pop out to pick up some things for dinner - that he'd get something to help with your sickness bug, something to ease the upset in your aching body.

You hear the keys jingle in the door, indicating Matt's return home.

"Hey, sweetheart," he calls out, closing the door behind himself. "Sorry about the wait. Was so busy out there," he continues, placing the bags on the counter. He makes his way to you on the couch and takes a seat on his knees in front of you. "How you feeling?" he asks, slipping his hand into yours.

"Gross," you simply reply between a soft breath, closing your eyes. You were starting to feel it again - like the room was spinning.

His thumb circles over your skin, attempting to ease you. "I'm sorry, angel," he coos, speaking gently.

Matt props himself higher on his knees, extending to reach himself over your middle. He places a light kiss to your stomach over the fabric of your top and then carefully rests the side of his head in that spot - trying to comfort you. He keeps hold of your hand and laces his fingers between yours, playing with your hand as if to distract you.

You peek down at Matt on your stomach, watching his brows furrow, seeming like he was focusing - that same darned face again. You extend your spare hand towards his head and nestle your fingers in his hair, soothingly stroking over his scalp. "What is it?" you ask, your confusion mirroring his.

He faintly shakes his head and shushes you softly, a smile growing.

"Matt?"

"It's not the flu, honey," he beams at you, lifting his head from your stomach abruptly. "It's not the flu," he repeats, the words almost catching in his throat.

"What do you mean?" you question, following his movements.

"Sweetheart," he coos, drawing out the petname with a gentle nod - like he was trying to prompt you.

"No?" you whisper, speaking in disbelief.

He nods once more, his features softening and melting upon hearing the news. His grip tightens in your hand, and he brings it to his lips, placing another kiss where the last one dried.

"We're going to have a baby?"

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

some reason when I was writing this it reminded me of when vision said “yes, my love,” to wanda when she got her baby bump🥲 now im sad

#request #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock one shot #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x fem!reader #daredevil #matthew murdock x reader

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superbreadsoul · 2 months ago

Text

SO TAKE MY HEART AND DON'T LOOK BACK

DISCLAIMER!: The following story is purely fictional and is made for entertainment purposes. I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this story.

DOUBLE DISCLAIMER!!: DAREDEVIL: BORN AGAIN SPOILERS!!

Warning: Matt is emotionally constipated, but he makes up for it. Slightly spicy (I don’t know how to write smut). Karen appearence (with a conversation that i feel Matt and Karen should have had imo, I wrote it for my own peace of mind for them; they deserved a better ending) Mentions of death. Awkward, silly moments.

Matt Murdock x Reader

WORD COUNT: 13630

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Matt sat on the couch, his gaze fixed on the floor, the weight of the silence pressing down on him. He knew, deep down, that he had no real reason to be upset with her. She’d only reacted because she cared. That much was obvious. She’d seen the bruises, the way he was pushing himself too hard, and she’d tried to do what she always did—look out for him. But somehow, he’d managed to twist it all into something else.

The fight had escalated, like all their fights seemed to do, and it was his fault. He could admit that much. But it wasn’t easy. Acknowledging that he’d been reckless, that maybe the wound was worse than he’d let on—it didn’t sit well with him. He didn’t like feeling weak.

And yet, he was still too stubborn to say the words. To apologize. His pride was too big, too loud. It always was.

He wasn’t angry with her—not really. He was angry at himself. For snapping. For not hearing the worry in her voice and instead turning it into something he could fight against. But he didn’t know how to fix it. He didn’t know how to ask her to stay without feeling like he was losing himself. So, he did the only thing he could do.

He reached out, took her hand in his, and gave it a gentle squeeze. A silent apology. A reminder that he was there, even if the words wouldn’t come.

Y/N sat beside him, her gaze distant, the tension between them thick enough to choke on. She knew Matt. She knew the stubbornness that ran through him like a river. But it didn’t make the silence any easier to bear.

She’d tried. She had. She’d tried to help, to make him see that he didn’t have to do everything on his own, that maybe this time—this time—he could let someone in. But all he’d done was push her away, like he always did.

When his hand squeezed hers, she sighed. She knew what it meant. The apology that wasn’t said, the one that hung in the air between them. She could read it in the way his fingers tightened around hers, like he was holding on to something precious, something fragile.

"Yeah," she whispered, her voice soft, tired. "I know."

It wasn’t enough, but it was all he had to offer. And somehow, that was enough for her, for now.

Matt was the kind of man who could never admit when he was wrong, even though she knew—she knew—he was. He’d been selfish, pushing her away when all she’d wanted to do was care. And she was frustrated. Frustrated with him, with herself, with the way they always ended up here. But still, she stayed. Still, she held his hand.

When she finally stood to leave, she did so slowly, the weight of the moment pressing on her chest. Her jacket was on the table. She reached for it, already halfway to the door, already preparing herself to walk out.

His heart sank when she moved, when she pulled away. He couldn’t let her go—not like this. Not when everything still felt broken between them. Not when he hadn’t even found the courage to say the one thing he knew he should.

"You don’t have to go," he said, a little too quickly, his voice betraying the desperation he was trying so hard to hide. It was pathetic how quickly the words left his mouth. He cursed himself silently under his breath.

But then he gathered himself, his voice softening, more certain this time. "Stay."

It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t an offer. It was a demand, quiet but firm, as if he knew that the only way he could keep her there, keep her close, was to speak with the same force he used when he fought his demons.

She paused, her hand still on the jacket, her back turned to him. His voice, raw and vulnerable, made her stop. She turned slowly, her face betraying her frustration but also something else. Something she wasn’t sure she could name.

"Why?" she asked, the word sharp with a frustration she couldn’t hide.

Matt didn’t hesitate. He leaned forward, his sightless gaze steady, and his hand still holding hers with a strength that made her heart skip a beat.

"Because I don’t want you to go," he said, the words raw, genuine, and completely unguarded.

There it was. The admission he’d been avoiding all this time. He didn’t want her to go. He didn’t want to be alone again. Not when she was the only person who ever saw through his walls, who ever cared enough to fight with him when he couldn’t fight for himself.

His grip tightened just a little, as if he was afraid that if he let go, she’d slip away for good.

She could feel the change in him. The way his stubbornness was cracking, piece by piece. And for the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel the need to leave. Maybe it was because he’d finally said what he hadn’t been able to say before, or maybe it was just the silent promise in the way his hand still held hers. But whatever it was, it was enough.

She didn’t answer him right away. Instead, she stepped closer, her hand still in his. The fight wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. But maybe, just maybe, they could start again.

"Why?" She asked, her voice cutting through the tension that hung thick between them. The question was simple, but the weight of it was enough to crush him. She wanted the truth, and Matt had no idea how to give it to her.

“Because I—” He started, but he stopped himself, the words caught in his throat. His chest tightened as he tried to look at her with his sightless eyes, and for the first time in a long time, he couldn’t hide behind his pride. He didn’t want to admit the real reason. He didn’t want to admit that he was scared. Scared of her leaving. Scared of losing her.

But he couldn’t say that. He didn’t know how to be vulnerable like that, not even with her. Vulnerability had always been a weakness, and Matt wasn’t ready to show her that side of himself. Not now, not ever.

After a long, painful silence, he finally shook his head.

"Just don’t go. Please." His voice was quieter now, almost a whisper, but the desperation was clear. He wasn’t asking anymore. He was pleading. But it wasn’t enough. Not for her.

The room felt suffocating, thick with tension that neither of them could seem to shake. He stood there, his body stiff, his gaze shifting away from hers as if he could avoid the inevitable storm brewing between them. She was waiting for him to speak, her eyes pleading for honesty.

“Why?” she asked, her voice trembling, desperate for the truth. “Why are you acting like this?”

Matt opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat, strangling him. He never had been good at this. Never been good at admitting anything that left him vulnerable, that laid bare the mess inside of him. The truth felt like a heavy weight pressing on his chest, suffocating him. He didn’t want to admit that the thought of losing her—of her walking out of his life—scared him to his core. He didn’t want to admit that he was terrified, that he was weak.

He stayed silent for a few moments, the tension between them thickening, before he finally shook his head, his voice barely above a whisper. “Just don’t go. Please.”

It wasn’t enough. She could feel it. His words were a plea, but they weren’t the truth she needed to hear. She shook her head, pulling away from him gently, her frustration building.

“No. Not good enough,” she said firmly, her voice steady, but her heart was pounding.

Matt’s jaw tightened at her rejection. His hand shot out to catch her wrist, keeping her close. He hated it. He hated how powerless he felt, how she could break through all the walls he’d so carefully built. But he wasn’t ready to let go, not yet. Not before he said something—anything—that would stop her from leaving.

“What do you want me to say?” His voice broke with a sharp edge, a mixture of anger, fear, and desperation. He couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand how weak he felt, how vulnerable. He wanted to fix it, to make everything okay again, but he had no idea how.

“Just talk to me! Tell me the truth!” she snapped back, her eyes flashing with frustration.

“The truth?!” His anger flared up at her words, his frustration boiling over. “The truth is I don’t want you to leave. The truth is that I hate it when you leave. The truth is, I hate when you get mad at me, and I hate that I’m constantly worried that you’re mad at me!”

His voice was louder now, his words tumbling out faster than he could stop them. The weight of the truth, the ugly truth, was finally crashing down on him, and he hated it.

Her eyes flashed with hurt, and for a moment, she was silent. She had to collect herself before the words came tumbling out, fierce and unforgiving. “Have you ever considered that I do that because I care about you? How am I not supposed to worry when I don’t know if one day I’m gonna call you and you’re not gonna pick up the phone?” She took a deep breath, her voice rising. “Because that sure as hell has happened before, Matt!”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. Of course, he’d thought about it. All the time. He knew the worry in her voice was because she cared. He knew that her anger was just a reflection of the love she had for him, of the fear that came from him pushing her away when she only wanted to help.

But it didn’t make it any easier.

“Do you think I like worrying you?” His voice cracked, raw with emotion. “Do you think I like pushing you away?”

“That’s not the point, Matt!” She groaned in frustration, her hands balling into fists at her sides.

“Then what is?” His voice rose again, the anger returning with a vengeance. He stepped forward, his chest tight, his heart pounding in his ears. He felt like he was losing control of everything, of the situation, of himself.

“You want me to admit that I hate being alone? That I hate fighting with you? That I hate being scared? That I’m terrified that one day, I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone, and it’ll be my fault?” His words were sharp, each one a jagged piece of truth he couldn’t stop from falling out. He pushed himself off the couch, pacing in frustration, his steps quick and unsteady.

“Yes!” She shouted back, the urgency in her voice matching his. “I want you to remember that you’re still human, Matt! I want you to realize that you’re not invincible; you’re not untouchable! You’re just a man, and it’s okay to be afraid. It’s okay to need someone. It’s okay to be vulnerable!”

The silence that followed was thick and suffocating. Matt’s breath came in heavy gasps, his anger still simmering beneath the surface, but something else was there too—something softer, something more fragile. He opened his mouth, but the words didn’t come right away. Instead, he stood there, shaking his head, his gaze dropping to the floor.

“I know that!” His voice was tight, barely contained. “Don’t you think I know that?” He turned to face her, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Don’t you think I know that sometimes I can’t win? That I get scared? That I’m afraid of losing you and not even knowing why it’s happening?”

The words hit him with the force of a freight train, and he could feel the cracks in his composure, the walls he’d built around himself crumbling. His sightless gaze dropped almost in shame, feeling his hands shake uncontrollably. The control was slipping away, and for the first time in so long, he didn’t know how to stop it.

She moved toward him, slow, deliberate. The soft sound of her steps on the hardwood floor was the only noise in the otherwise silent room. When she reached him, she didn’t say a word. Instead, her hand, warm and steady, gently touched his arm. That single touch was enough to send him spiraling. Without thinking, without hesitation, Matt’s body moved, a magnetic force driving him forward.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, pressing her tightly against his chest as if her presence was the only thing keeping him from shattering completely. The familiar scent of her hair, the warmth of her skin—it was a comfort he never realized he craved until this very moment.

She could feel him shaking, his breath uneven as he buried his face in the crook of her shoulder, his hands gripping the fabric of her shirt like it was the last thing holding him together. He held on with desperate, almost frantic strength, as though he might disappear if he let go for even a second. She wrapped her arms around him, rubbing his back in slow, soothing circles.

"Matt," she whispered softly, her voice like a balm to his tortured soul.

His grip tightened at the sound of her voice. Her words pierced through the fog of his emotions, breaking through the walls he had built around himself. She wasn’t going anywhere. He could feel the promise in her touch, in the way she held him. It was a promise that made the suffocating weight in his chest lift, just a little, enough for him to breathe again.

A shaky sigh escaped his lips, the sound of it so quiet, so raw, it almost broke her heart.

"I’m sorry," Matt muttered, the words ragged and raw, the kind of apology that didn’t come easily for him. The kind of apology that felt like swallowing shards of glass.

She didn’t pull away from him, didn’t ask him to say more. Instead, she simply nodded against his shoulder, a gentle pat on his back as if to tell him it was okay.

"I know, Matty," she whispered back, her voice firm but soft, as if to reassure him that she understood.

He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat threatening to choke him as he forced himself to speak again. His voice, barely above a whisper, came out muffled against her shoulder. "I can’t promise it won’t happen again... but I’ll try."

Her heart was stung at his words, tears threatening to fall. She nodded, her breath shaky. She understood more than he knew, but she swallowed her protest. She didn’t need more than this. "Okay," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Matt’s hand slid to the back of her head, pulling her even closer, if that was even possible. His arms wrapped around her with a kind of desperation, a need to hold on to something real, something constant in a world that felt like it was crumbling. She was the only thing that made sense, the only thing that made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t completely broken.

"I don’t like fighting with you," he confessed, his voice barely audible, the words vulnerable in a way he rarely allowed himself to be.

Her heart broke for him at that moment. "I don’t like fighting with you either," she admitted softly, the words slipping from her lips before she could stop them.

In the silence that followed, all the words left unsaid lingered between them, but none of it mattered. They didn’t need to say anything more. The way they held each other, the way they clung to one another, spoke louder than any apology or promise ever could.

The silence between them was deafening, thick with unsaid words and unspoken truths. Matt could feel the weight of it pressing down on his chest, suffocating him. His heart pounded loudly in his ears as he watched her, hoping for the one thing he needed to hear. He could hear the way her heartbeat spiked at the admission, the way her breath hitched when she spoke, a subtle tremor in her voice betraying the sincerity in her words. But it wasn’t enough. Not yet.

He needed more. He needed to know that he wasn’t the only one who felt this way, the only one who had been clinging to a fragile thread of hope for far too long. He was a hypocrite, stubborn, selfish—everything he hated about himself. But right now, he just wanted to hear her say it. He needed the reassurance that they were both fighting for the same thing.

“Then why do we always end up fighting?” His voice cracked on the last word, the question hanging in the air like an accusation, yet a plea all the same.

She took a deep breath, her gaze softening as she met his eyes. “Because we care too damn much.” The words were gentle, but the truth in them hit him like a punch to the gut.

And that was just another thing that made Matt hate himself. Because it was him, it was always him who started the arguments. He was the one who snapped at her, who pushed her away when what he wanted was to pull her closer. He was the one who let the tension escalate to the point where he couldn’t take it back—just like he had done tonight.

“Yeah.” Matt’s response was a quiet, bitter laugh—more like a breath of self-loathing than anything else. It wasn’t aimed at her but at himself. He couldn’t stop himself from pushing her away, from destroying the very thing he was desperate to hold on to.

She pulled away slightly, her hands reaching up to cup his cheeks, her touch so tender it almost broke him. “You know I would never actually walk away from you, right?” she asked softly, concern flooding her expression.

“Unless I push you too far.” The words slipped from his mouth before he could stop them, bitter and hard. His hand came up to rest over hers, his thumb slowly tracing the back of her hand, as though that simple touch could ground him.

“I do stupid things,” Matt continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “I push people away when I shouldn’t. I push you away when I shouldn’t.”

She looked at him, her eyes soft yet unwavering. “Hey,” she said firmly, her voice low but steady, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Matt’s lips twitched into a small, half-hearted smile, the kind of smile that never reached his eyes. He wanted to believe her, wanted to take her words for what they were, but doubt gnawed at him. How could she promise that? He couldn’t even promise it to himself. He always found a way to mess things up. He always found a way to push her away.

“How do you know that?” His voice cracked, the bitterness seeping through again. “How can you guarantee that I won’t push you past the breaking point?”

Her hands moved to the back of his neck, fingers curling gently into his skin as she took a deep breath, steadying herself before speaking. “Because—” she paused, her gaze intense, unwavering, “because it’s you.”

Matt’s breath caught at her words, and a shiver ran down his spine. She didn’t just say it; she meant it. He could see it in the way she held him, in the certainty in her voice.

“I can’t imagine—not spending a single minute with you,” she whispered, her words a quiet promise.

Matt’s heart stuttered in his chest. Her words sank deep into him, resonating through every fiber of his being. His hands moved instinctively, lifting to grab her wrists, holding her hands in place against his neck. He needed to feel her, needed to ground himself in her presence.

“Y/N…” His voice was gentle, barely more than a murmur, as his head lifted slightly from her shoulder, gaze trying to lock with hers. The intensity of the moment, of the weight of her words, was almost too much to bear.

“I know.” Her voice was soft, filled with a quiet understanding. “I know—and it’s okay.” She smiled gently, a little sad, but accepting. “I’ve never asked you for anything—not to feel the way I’ve felt—and that’s okay.”

The words made Matt’s chest ache. He wanted to say so much, to tell her everything that he was too afraid to admit, but the knot in his throat tightened. He couldn’t find the right words. His pride kept him silent, kept him from saying what he needed to say.

“I just…” She trailed off, her hands sliding off his neck as she gave him a look that was filled with hope and weariness. “I just don’t want you to push me away, Matt. That’s all I’m asking.”

And there it was—the simple truth of it. The very thing that had been eating away at him for so long. She could see right through him. She always had. She always knew exactly what he was thinking, exactly what he was feeling. And it made him hate himself a little more, for the walls he had built up, for the distance he had tried to create.

“It’s not that easy,” he muttered, barely above a whisper, the frustration heavy in his voice.

Her smile was weak but understanding. She didn’t argue. She didn’t have to. She knew.

Matt swallowed hard as her hands slipped away from him, the warmth of her touch fading with each inch that separated them. His heart raced in his chest, panicked and uncertain. He wanted to reach for her, to pull her back, to tell her everything that had been sitting inside of him for far too long.

The tension in the room was palpable, thick with the unsaid words that hung between them like a suffocating fog. Matt could feel the weight of it pressing down on his chest, making it harder to breathe, harder to think. As she stepped back, her face flushed with embarrassment, and he felt the impulse to stop her, to keep her close.

"I um—I’m gonna go make some tea," she muttered, her voice faltering in dejection, and that was enough for him to snap.

Without thinking, he stepped forward, his hand reaching out to grab her arm, preventing her from moving any further.

“Wait.”

The word slipped out more forcefully than he intended, and he immediately regretted it. He softened his touch, trying to calm himself, but his fingers still gripped her arm firmly. He could feel the pulse of her heartbeat under his hand, and it only made his pulse quicken.

Her gaze flickered down to his hand, her eyes searching his, full of confusion. “Why?”

The question was quiet, small, and it made his stomach turn. Matt tried to gather his thoughts, the words jumbled and scattered in his mind. Everything he had been holding back, everything he’d been too afraid to say, felt like it was fighting to escape all at once.

"Because I'm not done talking." His voice was a harsh whisper, but there was no mistaking the urgency in it. “I’m not even close to being done talking. I still have so much more to say.”

Her eyes never left his, and her voice was soft but full of anticipation. "Then say it, Matty."

The floodgates of his mind opened, and the words tumbled out faster than he could stop them. But even as his heart raced, he hesitated. This was it. This was the moment. Everything he had been afraid to admit for so long was right there on the tip of his tongue. And it terrified him. But there was one sentence, one thought that stood out from the rest, one truth that he had been too scared to face—until now.

“I think I’m in love with you.” His voice was barely a whisper, so soft that it almost seemed to be swallowed by the space between them. But the moment the words left his lips, his heart nearly stopped. The silence that followed was deafening.

Her breath hitched, and Matt could feel it—the way her heart skipped a beat. He could hear the stunned silence in her breath, the way she stopped breathing altogether for a second. Her eyes roamed over his face, searching for something, anything, to anchor herself. But the longer she stayed silent, the more his chest tightened, the more the doubt crept in.

Did I mess this up?

His anxiety surged, his thoughts spiraling out of control. Was she going to laugh? Was she going to walk away? His heart raced, too fast, too hard.

"Did—Did you hear me?" Her voice was small, shaky, the nervous tremor cutting through her words. He could tell she was struggling just as much as he was.

"I heard you." The words came out quietly, almost as a reassurance to herself more than to him, but he couldn’t hide the way his heart pounded in his chest. His hands were shaking, and she could barely bring herself to look him in the eyes.

“Then why aren’t you saying anything?”

Her words were blunt, cutting through the air between them like a knife. She was angry now, and Matt felt it in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t blame her—he was angry, too. But more than that, he was terrified.

He needed to know if she felt the same. If his feelings weren’t just some foolish mistake that he had made.

“I don’t know,” she said softly, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

Great. Fantastic. Matt’s frustration bubbled up to the surface, bitterness creeping into his tone. “I just confessed my feelings, and you don’t know?”

His grip on her arm tightened slightly, not consciously, but because his emotions were getting the best of him. He hated himself for sounding bitter, for lashing out at her. But the fear—the uncertainty—was eating away at him.

Her face softened, her eyes filled with something close to guilt. “I’m—confused—I don’t know. Matt—” She sighed, a heavy, distressed breath that seemed to carry all of her doubts. “I don’t know what to say.”

Matt’s frustration grew as he pushed himself to stand a little straighter, the words coming out sharper than he intended. “Confused about what? You’re too vague. I don’t know what that means—that’s not—I don’t know what to do with that.”

The bitterness in his voice made him cringe. He hated how he sounded—angry, frustrated, and broken all at once. It wasn’t her fault. It had never been her fault. And yet, he was so terrified of the unknown that he couldn’t stop himself from pushing.

But then, she snapped back at him, her words sharp and laced with her hurt.

“Maybe I’m confused because I’ve spent the last 12 years being in love with you, and now, suddenly, you’re telling me that you’re magically in love with me?” She practically spit the last part, the frustration and pain in her eyes impossible to ignore.

Matt staggered back as if her words had physically knocked the wind out of him. His heart thudded painfully in his chest, and for the first time, he could hear the toll it had taken on her, too. He had pushed her away, ignored her feelings, and now he was finally standing here, confessing when it was almost too late.

“I—” He stopped himself, running a hand through his hair, unsure of what to say. Everything he wanted to say felt inadequate. The silence between them was deafening again, and Matt wasn’t sure what came next. All he knew was that he had just told her the truth—after years of hiding it. And now… now he had to face the consequences of his fears.

Matt's hands were still trembling from the confession he had just laid bare, but before he could fully process the weight of it, something in her eyes caught him off guard.

His voice, quiet and full of a strange mix of disbelief and sadness, cut through the air like a knife.

“Say that again.”

Her words hung there, almost suspended in time, as though she couldn’t believe what she had just said. Her eyes widened, searching his face for any sign that he might be joking, that he might take it all back. But the quick pounding of her heart and the sweat pooling at the back of her neck made his heart ache.

His throat constricted. He could barely believe the words that had left her mouth, the confession that had slipped out before he could stop it. “I—” He stopped, his breath catching. “You’ve been... in love with me for 12 years?”

His voice cracked slightly, his chest tightening as he spoke. The enormity of it hit him harder than he had imagined. His mind raced as he tried to understand how it was possible—how it could have gone unnoticed for so long.

“Why didn’t you tell me?!”

She scoffed bitterly, a sad laugh escaping her lips. “Are you kidding?” Her voice trembled. “We grew up together, Matt. I watched you go out with tons of girls during our friendship. You never once felt that way about me, not like the other girls.” She sniffled, looking away to blink the unshed tears from her eyes before she looked back at him. “Then came Elektra—and Karen, Jennifer,” she added softly, her voice breaking at the mention of the names.

The moment the name "Elektra" left her lips, something inside Matt snapped. He stepped forward quickly, his hands moving to grip her shoulders as he tried to steady himself. The memory of Elektra—her influence on Matt’s life, her hold over him—was still too raw, still too fresh.

"Don't bring her up," he hissed, his voice low and bitter, the anger rising in his chest at the thought of Elektra’s name being associated with anything that had to do with him and her.

But she shook her head, shoving his hands off her shoulders with more force than he had expected. “Our history will never matter to you because she has a hold on your life that you just can’t seem to shake, Matt,” she spat, her words dripping with hurt and frustration.

Matt recoiled slightly, his jaw clenching as her words hit harder than he wanted to admit. She was right. He had never truly let go of Elektra—he had always been bound by her memory, even if he didn’t want to admit it. And now, here was the woman he had loved, standing in front of him, pouring her heart out. And what was he doing? Pushing her away.

"I said don't—" He cut himself off, his frustration boiling over. “Not tonight. Not when I’m trying to tell you that I’m in love with you,” he said, his words coming out sharp and desperate. “Can’t you see that?”

Her eyes met his, and for a moment, there was nothing but raw, unfiltered emotion between them. Her voice was quieter this time, and her anger had faded into something else entirely. “Why?” she asked, her voice soft, almost broken. “Because it reminds you of who you’re really in love with? Because I’m just a safety net to you?”

Matt’s chest tightened as his sightless gaze softened, his heart aching with the weight of her words. He took a step forward, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to lock onto hers.

"You're nothing like her," he said, his voice fierce and passionate. "You're a safety net? Are you kidding me?" He took another step closer, the words coming faster now, each one a truth he had kept buried for far too long. “You’re the only reason I’m still sane. You’re the only reason I can keep going after everything—the fights, the broken bones, the nightmares. You’re the reason I’m still here. And you think you’re just a safety net? You think you're some kind of replacement?"

Her eyes were wide, misty with emotion, and she faltered as if she couldn’t understand. “I don’t know what to think, Matt,” she whispered, shaking her head slowly.

Matt swallowed hard, forcing himself to breathe as he tried to push down the swirling emotions that threatened to overtake him. He needed her to understand. He needed her to know that he had never, in any way, seen her as second best.

Then, with a deep breath, he took her hand carefully and brought it to his chest. His heartbeat was frantic against his ribs, pounding in his ears. "Let me tell you what I think,” he said, his voice quieter now, laced with vulnerability. "I think I’m terrified. And I think I’m tired. And I wonder..." he trailed off, his eyes searching hers. "Why didn’t you ever give up on me?”

Her breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, it felt like the world was holding its breath, waiting for her response.

Matt’s chest heaved, and he took another step forward, his heart bare, exposed for her to see. “You’ve known me since we were eleven—since we were still kids. You’ve seen me at my best and my worst. You’ve seen me at my lowest, when I was broken and angry and lost. And you stayed. Why?”

Her eyes softened, the sorrow and longing evident in them. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words didn’t come. Instead, she just sighed, a heavy exhale that seemed to carry the weight of years of unspoken feelings.

Matt wasn’t done yet. "So the next time you ask yourself why I’m in love with you, the answer is everything," he whispered, bringing her hand gently to rest over his frantically beating heart. "I love everything about you. You’re my best friend. You know me like no one else ever could, and you’re still here. Still with me."

His heart was racing now, the words tumbling out faster than he could stop them. "I love that you’re stubborn. I love that you’re a sarcastic little shit half the time. I love that you push me to be better, that you tease me for always being so serious.” He moved closer, his voice barely audible. “I love that you’re braver than I am, smarter than I am. I love the way you stand up to me, to everyone. I love that you make me laugh. I love the way your voice sounds when you laugh.”

Her gaze never left his, and Matt could feel the power of her love, the depth of it, in the way she looked at him.

“I love your hands. I love the way they feel against my skin. I love the way you touch me,” he said, his voice growing softer, more intimate with every word.

Her hand rested on his chest, and Matt’s eyes fluttered closed as he felt the weight of her touch. He shivered at the sensation, the feeling of her closeness overwhelming him in the best way.

"I love the sound of your heartbeat," he whispered, his hand tightening around hers. "I love the way you smell. I love the way you—you feel. I love that I’m not afraid when I’m with you."

Her thumb pressed gently into his bottom lip, and his breath hitched again. The moment her hand touched him, everything inside him unraveled.

"Matty..." she whispered, her voice low and soft.

Matt’s heart skipped a beat as his unseeing gaze looked down at her, his eyes full of everything he had kept hidden for so long. "I love the sound of your voice when you say my name."

Her lips brushed his thumb, and Matt’s world tilted on its axis.

With no more words, no more hesitation, he pulled her into him, his arms wrapping around her tightly. Her body pressed against his, and he let her feel the frantic beating of his heart, the raw emotion that he could no longer keep inside.

"I love the way you say my name like you’re the only one that ever could," Matt whispered, burying his face in her hair. "I love everything about you."

She held him close, her hands threading into the back of his head, pulling him tighter as she whispered, "I love you."

And in that moment, nothing else mattered. They were finally, truly, together.

The world around them faded into a mere whisper, the clamor of everything else falling away as their lips met. The second he felt her warmth pressing against him, a rush of longing poured through Matt, igniting a fierce fire that he had kept buried for far too long. Her whisper of a whimper sent shivers down his spine, and he responded instinctively, grabbing onto her even tighter, his hands clutching her waist as he pressed his mouth against hers with a fervor that both startled and thrilled him.

This kiss was different—it was electric. Gone were the gentle caresses of earlier moments; this was fast and frantic, a raw desperation that filled the air between them. It was rough, a wild clash of passion that felt as though they were reclaiming every unspoken feeling that had built up inside them over the years. It was everything he had yearned for, a tumult of emotions spilling out where words had failed.

“Matty—” Her voice came out as a soft whine, strained and filled with an uncharacteristic vulnerability, wrestling against the warmth of his arms. The sound pulled him back from the edge of his fervor, an uncharted territory where he feared losing himself entirely.

He felt the sobering weight of her tone, and his heart raced—not with passion now, but with sudden concern. “Are you okay—do you need me to stop?” He breathed the words into the space between them, his grip instinctively loosening, releasing her just enough to gauge her reaction, tension coiling in his chest as his unseeing gaze searched her eyes for reassurance.

The moment she met his gaze, the desperation in her voice wrapped around him like a lifeline. “Please don’t stop,” she begged, urgency lacing her words, and instantly, a wave of relief crashed over him, the anxiety in his gut slowly dissipating.

Matt closed his eyes briefly, savoring the sound of her plea like a melody that ignited something deep within him. He let out a shaky, breathless sigh, feeling his shoulders relax just enough to allow him to fully embrace the moment. “I don’t want to stop. God—I don’t ever want to stop,” he confessed quietly, the words tumbling from his lips like a prayer, heavy with longing and intensity.

Her expression shifted, eyes glistening with something profound—a mix of vulnerability and trust that twisted his insides. It was a moment of reckoning, a shared acknowledgment of the fire that had always burned beneath the surface. He could see reflected in them the same fervor, the same desperate need, and it propelled him forward.

In that instant, the hesitation melted away, replaced by an urgent yearning that compelled him to lean back in, their lips finding each other again with an immediacy that felt like home. Each kiss deepened, a frantic symphony of gasps and moans that reverberated through the night, intertwining their souls in a way words never could.

This embrace, this connection, was everything they had denied for too long. It was raw and powerful, a beautiful chaos that drew them closer, binding them in a moment that felt timeless. Lost in the tide of emotions, Matt knew this was just the beginning—an awakening of something that had always been there, waiting for permission to burst forth.

The world around them became a distant memory, and in those stolen moments, nothing else mattered. All that existed was the two of them, woven together in a dance of passion and longing, the past melting away, leaving only a future crackling with possibility.

Next Morning

The robotic voice of Matt’s phone rang out insistently.

"Kirsten?" he murmured, his voice thick with sleep and lingering affection. As he listened to his friend's familiar, eager voice on the other end, Matt felt a smile tugging at his lips despite himself. Kirsten was nothing if not persistent, and Matt could already envision his friend's excited rambling about work, unphased by the late hour.

But all of that faded the moment her lips brushed against the sensitive skin of his ear, drawing a shudder from him. He stifled a soft groan, the friction of her teeth grazing his earlobe sending jolts of electricity down his spine. Every shake of Kirsten’s voice melted away, replaced with the intoxicating presence of her hands on him, the history of their shared moments flooding back. A rush of affection threatened his focus, distracting him from the task at hand—any semblance of responsibility slipping through his fingers like sand.

"Uh, hold on, Kirsten," he said, a bit breathless as he hastily covered the receiver and turned his attention back to her. "Could you stop that for a second?"

She giggled softly, and that sound ignited something fiery deep within him. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, the sunlight filtering through the curtains casting delicate shadows on her face. With a pout, she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and leaned in closer, daring him with a playfulness that made his resolve waver.

"Is that any way to talk to your boss?" she taunted, her breath brushing against his lips, tantalizingly close, revelling in her new power of being an ADA.

Matt chuckled, the tension crackling between them palpable, and he couldn’t help himself. He leaned in, stealing back the reality they had built—lost in her smile, her laughter, and everything that made them her. "You know we're not supposed to mix work and pleasure," he teased, but his resolve blew away like a whisper in the wind.

"That’s not a rule I intend to follow," she quipped, framing his jaw with her hands, and without thinking, he found himself surrendering to the magnetism drawing them together again. Her lips took his with fervor, and everything else faded away—the buzz of the phone, the responsibilities, the world outside; nothing mattered beyond this moment.

The kiss deepened, both of them losing track of time in a way that felt both liberating and dangerous. Their chemistry filled the room, each caress igniting a familiar fire within him. But in what felt like mere seconds, reality intruded once more with the sound of Kirsten’s voice echoing through the receiver.

“Matt? You still there?”

With a reluctant sigh, he pulled away, his breath ragged. He gave her a guilty smile mixed with frustration and vulnerability—a perfect blend of emotions churning in him, caught between the wild depths of desire and the mundane world that was pulling him back.

"Yeah—sorry, Kirsten," he said, his voice steadier than he felt. She smiled, tilting her head, a spark of understanding passing silently between them. Even in the chaos, they managed to find their rhythm together, a blend of sweetness and determination.

As Matt’s conversation with Kirsten unfolded in the background, he could feel her gaze upon him, her fingers trailing softly along his forearm, drawing circles that sent shivers up his spine. The steady rise and fall of her breathing filled him with warmth, grounding him even amidst the chaos of everyday life.

Matt’s heart swelled with anticipation for what lay ahead—the dreams, the fears, the trivial moments that intertwined to create something so authentic and beautiful between them. He finished the call, chuckling as Kirsten rambled excitedly about a new case, but all he could think about was the girl beside him, the warmth of their connection, the words he longed to repeat—the words he felt deep in his soul.

Matt let out an annoyed huff as the call with Kirsten came to an end, the weight of duty settling heavily on his shoulders. He reluctantly released his grip on the phone and turned to her, his voice grumpy and low in the dim morning light. “I have to go in to work.”

“No,” she whined playfully, pressing her cheek against his as if to anchor him to the moment.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips at the feel of her adorable pout, a smile hidden beneath all that weariness. Matt’s hands found their way to her face, his thumbs grazing the corners of her mouth in a gentle caress. Instantly, her frown transformed, casting away any lingering shadows. "I'll come back later," he murmured, leaning down to press a tender kiss against her lips.

“No!” she protested, the playful defiance glinting in her eyes.

Matt laughed softly, his grip dropping to her hip, giving her a gentle squeeze. “Well, I’m not staying if you keep whining.” It was a tease—a way to lighten the mood, though the unspoken truth hung thick in the air.

“I love you,” she mumbled, almost shyly.

The three simple words struck him like a sudden storm, sending his heart racing and breath hitching in his throat. His hand slid to her waist, holding her tighter as he fought to regain control, to remain anchored in reality. “You’re not making this easy,” he murmured, his voice thick with unvoiced longing.

“Good,” she giggled, enveloping him in her arms, pulling him closer into her warmth and safety—the very essence of everything he wanted.

Yet, surrendering was a dangerous game.

Matt chuckled again, a sigh escaping him as he leaned down to bury his face in the crook of her neck. “You’re not playing fair, you know that, right?” he murmured against her skin, pressing soft kisses against her pulse point, relishing in her intoxicating scent.

“Mmm,” she hummed, tilting her head back, inviting him to continue his assault.

But just as he felt his resolve begin to crumble beneath her touch, the blaring ring of her phone shattered the moment like glass hitting the floor.

“Ugh,” Matt groaned, annoyance creeping in once again. “Your phone is ringing.”

She sighed in frustration, throwing her head back dramatically. “Yeah, I know.”

He chuckled at her exasperation, his hands trailing up her sides one last time before he reluctantly pulled away, knowing he had to let her face the outside world. “You should probably answer that,” he murmured, giving her hip a gentle pat.

She sighed deeply, clutching the sheets to her chest as she reached for her phone, the delicate fabric slipping down her arms. Matt bit back an instant protest, wanting nothing more than to hold her close, to forget about responsibilities and the outside world.

“Michael?” she answered, her tone shifting to one of authority. “Yeah? Yes, I know about the meeting. I’m the ADA; she should wait for me—no, absolutely not! That wasn’t the deal—”

Her words sparked tension in Matt’s chest, the name ringing loudly in his ears. Michael. The sound of it twisted the knife of jealousy deep within him. The thought of her speaking with anyone else, especially this Michael, melted away his cheerful demeanor.

“Michael, I don’t need you to protect me, just because you’re the head of security now—don’t get cocky,” she said, exasperation lacing her voice.

Matt's expression darkened with every syllable that came out of her mouth. This Michael was a ghost that had slid into their life, taking root uninvited. The fact that he held a position of authority only fueled Matt’s inner turmoil. Wasn’t it his job to protect her? And yet, here was this man, spending more time with her than he ever could.

Her laughter floated through the air, bright and carefree. “You’re a dick. The car better be here in 10.”

It was a sound like shards of glass gouging into his heart. Why did she laugh at something he said? Why did she sound so familiar with him? The very thought sent a wave of fury rushing through him, clenching his fists as the turmoil bubbled to the surface.

She hung up the phone and turned to him, her expression shifting from amusement to concern. “I gotta go too,” she stated, but Matt barely registered her words.

“Who is this Michael?” he asked, the tense edge in his voice barely held at bay.

“You remember my dad’s right-hand man? Former head of security? Isaac Cain? It’s his son, Michael. Do you remember him? He used to come by during our time at St. Agnes.”

Matt frowned instinctively at her words, nodding reluctantly. The memories of Isaac and the unease they had always stirred surfaced at the mention of his name. “Yeah, I remember him,” he replied, the words laced with a bitterness he couldn’t quite suppress. “He’s head of security now?”

“Yeah,” she continued, her tone explaining yet oblivious to the tension thickening in the air. “Isaac stepped down a few months after I got promoted alongside Blake; he’s doing business, so Michael stepped up in his place.”

Matt’s jaw locked in frustration. Isaac’s son taking over—this was not a fair arrangement. It fueled a raging inferno of jealousy. The idea of this Michael spending time with her while he had to sit back and wait gnawed at his insides.

“Right,” he muttered, reaching down to grab his discarded boxer briefs, the very action grounding him.

“You okay?” she asked softly, her concern a whisper that only deepened his turmoil.

“Mhm.” The lie slipped from his tongue effortlessly, but even he could hear the strain in the response.

He didn’t want to admit that his jealousy wounded him, didn’t want to let her know how unsteady he felt under the weight of these emotions.

“Matty,” she said softly, concern lacing her voice so he was left frozen.

His head turned at the sound, but his expression remained neutral as he continued to fixate on anything but her. “What?” he replied, his voice void of warmth.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, almost hesitant to pry.

The guilt that surged in him felt like a tidal wave threatening to drown him. He closed his eyes against the swell of regret coursing through him. “Nothing,” he murmured, but his heart wasn’t in it. The words felt hollow, devoid of truth.

“Honey—” She gave him a look–though unseen– that said she didn’t believe him, that she saw right through his facade.

His heart rate quickened at the sound of the endearing nickname, the world around him coming to a standstill. But it did little to extinguish the burning jealousy in his heart. “It’s nothing.” The words came out softer this time, less convincing, and more like a whisper fading into the void.

Her frown deepened, and though she nodded, a flicker of concern lingered in her gaze. “Okay,” she whispered, brow slightly furrowed, though unease hung between them like a thick fog.

Matt felt the guilt rising again, a suffocating wave as he heard the resignation in her voice. The sound of acceptance, the way she didn’t push him, twisted something deep within him. A sharp pang of regret struck his chest, pushing him closer to the brink of despair, and he wanted to reach across the divide between them, to apologize for the tension that hung in the air like a storm cloud.

"You don't want to be late," he murmured eventually, his own words heavy, emerging more as a quiet statement than a question.

“You’re kicking me out?” she asked softly, her chuckle laced with confusion and concern, her eyes searching his for clarity.

Matt sighed again, frustration flickering through him. “I’m not kicking you out. I’m telling you that you should go. If you don’t want to be late. You have a firm to run.” His voice was rough and quiet, the effort to avoid her gaze feeling like a bitter punishment. He rubbed at the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as he tried to steady the maelstrom within him.

The awkward tension seeped into the room, and his behavior made her hesitate. For a fleeting moment, she reevaluated the night they had shared—the laughter, the warmth, the intimacy that had blurred the lines of their friendship. Did he regret it? Did he wish he hadn’t crossed that line?

“Yeah! Yeah, of course—um—I’ll just—I’ll see you?” she finally stammered, grabbing her purse with an uncertain smile that made Matt’s heart ache again.

Reluctantly, he tried to look up at her, the doubt in her tone striking a solemn chord within him. He wanted to reach out, to take her face in his hands and reassure her that he didn’t regret a single moment. That he loved her—desperately. But he shoved those feelings down again, fortifying the walls he had built, keeping himself neutral as he spoke in a voice that belied his turmoil. “Yeah,” he murmured, nodding. “See you.”

“You can’t,” she joked awkwardly, cringing at her own words afterward.

At her attempt at humor, Matt felt another pang in his chest. The lightness in her voice only made him hate himself even more for the discomfort that hung between them. He forced a smile, knowing it was likely to come across as more of a grimace. “Good one,” he replied, attempting a thread of dry humor even as his heart twisted unpleasantly.

Her smile faltered then, and Matt could see the nervousness run through her. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, taking a step closer, desperate to bridge the divide. “I should go?” she asked softly, her voice laced with vulnerability.

Unable to help himself, Matt stepped closer as well, his hands clenching at his sides. The urge to reach out, to pull her close, was nearly overwhelming. “You...” He swallowed hard, fighting against the urge to let his heart reign free. “You should go.” The words came out reluctantly, each one like a tiny dagger.

Disappointment settled in her eyes, the slight offbeat of her heart that made his world feel infinitely darker. His heart raced at the sound of her pain, and he regretted everything in an instant. “Yeah—okay,” she mumbled sadly. She stepped forward as if preparing to kiss him goodbye but instead turned for the door, the weight of unfulfilled desire heavy in the air.

Matt’s breath caught in his throat as he listened to her retreat. The heart that beat within him felt shattered. All he wanted was to wrap her in his arms, say the words that would reassure her that nothing had been ruined, that their friendship could withstand the tremors of this new territory. The desperation coursed through him, yet still, he held back. He couldn’t find the strength to pull her back—to say, Stay.

As she walked out the door, his hands clenched into tight, tense fists at his sides, frustration and longing battling within him.

With a deep sadness, she made her way to the car waiting for her, each step echoing in Matt’s heart like a funeral march. What if they had just ruined everything? What if the warmth they had shared would be eclipsed by awkwardness and uncertainty?

The moment the door clicked shut behind her, Matt felt the heaviness of her absence, like the light had dimmed and the room was left in shadow. The laughter, the warmth—all of it had faded, leaving him isolated in a silence that felt suffocating. His chest felt as if it had been torn open; his whole world crumbled in the wake of her departure.

He shut his eyes against the swell of emotions crashing over him. A long, shaky breath escaped his lips as he covered his face, trying to block out the torment swirling in his mind. “Idiot...” he murmured to himself, the word bitter and biting. The regret gnawed at him relentlessly. Why couldn’t he admit the truth? Why couldn’t he let her know just how much she meant to him?

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? The fear of losing her if he opened up. The fear of what this new dynamic could mean for them. As he stood alone in the dim apartment, the silence settled around him like a shroud, damping the echoes of possibility into nothing more than a ghost of what could have been.

10 a.m. at the DA’s Office

She sat at her desk, the morning light spilling through the office window, casting a warm glow on the papers scattered before her. Yet, her focus was elusive, her mind swirling in a tempest of uncertainty that kept drifting back to him. Matt. The very thought of him sent a torrent of emotions crashing against her heart, each wave seemingly stronger than the last.

10 a.m. at Murdock & Mcduffie

Meanwhile, Matt spent the day pacing his small apartment like a caged tiger, restlessness consuming him. The walls felt like they were closing in, every shadow a reminder that she was out there, living her life—without him. He knew he was being irrational, a voice in his head insisting that the feelings were mere paranoia. But that voice was doused in self-doubt.

Matt pressed a palm against his forehead. She loved him, he told himself, yet the knowledge that she knew Michael loomed large, casting a dark pall over his thoughts. He envisioned Michael—tall, effortlessly charming, and everything Matt felt he wasn't. The creeping dread filled his chest, suffocating him; it was an anxiety that he couldn't shake off.

11 a.m. at the DA’s Office

As Matt spiraled through his thoughts, she struggled to maintain her composure in her office. The soft knock of her assistant disrupted her reverie, an unwelcome reminder that life outside her head continued beside the clamor of her racing heart. “Get out,” she dismissed, the urgency in her tone forcing the girl to retreat before she could say a word.

11 a.m. at Murdock & Mcduffie

Back at Nelson and Murdock, Matt continued to pace, lost in a whirlwind of fear. He replayed that fateful conversation over and over again. Had he ruined everything between them? Could he have pushed her closer to Michael? The questions twirled chaotically, thoughts colliding in a cacophony of self-loathing. The idea of her building a life without him felt like a dagger to his soul, every insecurity igniting his anxiety.

12 a.m. at the DA’s Office

Heavyhearted, she decided to escape the confines of her office for lunch, her feet instinctively leading her to Nelson and Murdock. The thought of seeing Matt brought a mixture of hope and dread, an uneven pulse of longing that thrummed in her veins.

12:30 p.m. at Murdock & Mcduffie

Matt sat in his office, surrounded by open files that he could hardly focus on. He craved her presence, but the panic coursing through him clouded his ability to think clearly. The door creaked, and he barely registered Y/N’s soft knock as he kept his head down.

“Hey,” she chimed, stepping into the big office beside Kirsten.

In an instant, Matt’s heart leapt at the sound of her voice, as if she were a beacon drawing him back from the depths of his spiraling thoughts. He looked up slowly, color flooding his cheeks, and he felt a rush of breathlessness as he focused on her, the world around them fading into the background.

“Hey,” he murmured back, standing up uncertainly.

The presence of her brought a surge of bittersweet emotions, longing mingling with fear. Kirsten stepped aside, sensing the tension, her understanding crystal clear.

“Um—these are for you guys,” Y/N said, her voice faltering slightly as she lifted the bag of bagels and coffees, an offering of comfort amid the confusion.

Matt’s sightless gaze flickered down to the food, a pang of guilt slicing through him. He moved carefully around the desk, the small space between them feeling charged. “Thanks,” he said quietly, their fingers brushing as he accepted the coffee, making his heart race even more.

Kirsten caught the unspoken connection and quickly excused herself, offering Matt a brief pat on the shoulder before vanishing from the room, leaving just the two of them in the charged silence that felt almost palpable.

“Have a seat,” he gestured awkwardly, taking a slow sip of the coffee.

“I don’t really want to,” she admitted, twisting her fingers together nervously. “Especially if you don’t want me here.” The hesitance in her voice hit him like a physical blow.

Matt felt his heart clench painfully. The mere suggestion that he didn’t want her there twisted the knife deeper. He swallowed hard, shaking his head slowly. “I... that’s not…” he trailed off, frustration bubbling to the surface. “No, I—I do want you here, I...”

“But you don’t want me in your apartment?” She circled back to the coldness of his earlier dismissal, each word laced with uncertainty.

He felt the guilt flood back in waves, a reminder of the morning’s hurtful words. His response, the one that promised he wanted her close, battled with the fears that had gripped him for so long. Opening his mouth felt like stepping into a minefield. “I’m… sorry about this morning,” he mumbled, the apology escaping like a whisper choked with regret.

“Yeah, but—what are you sorry for?” she pressed gently. “What made you so upset you practically told me to skip rocks?”

At her question, Matt flinched. He could feel her hurt, could see it in the tension of her shoulders. “I just…” He struggled to articulate the truth he feared more than anything. “I didn’t want you to feel trapped.” His voice fell to a whisper laden with vulnerability.

“Matt, I could never feel trapped when I’m with you.” Her eyes softened, an earnestness sinking deep within his chest. “I feel—the most myself I can ever be around you. Don’t you get that?” She reached for his hands, entwining her fingers with his, grounding him in the moment.

Matt felt something shift within him as she spoke, her words resonating against the chaos of his thoughts. “I do, I promise I do,” he breathed, the sincerity behind her affection dawning on him. “I just… I don’t want to burden you with—” The implication hung in the air, unspoken yet heavy, aching to break free.

“Stop.” Her voice was firm, yet tender, the strength woven through her conviction a lifeline. “That’s not what this is. We’ve been friends since we were kids. I’ve never looked at you differently. And now—knowing that you’re Daredevil? After everything that has happened? It doesn’t change anything for me, either. You’re still you.”

As she cupped his cheeks, her touch ignited warmth across his skin, breaking through the barriers he had erected around his heart. “You’re still my Matty.”

In that moment, the weight of the world shifted. Matt’s chest tightened with possibilities, the fear that had engulfed him starting to dissolve under the light of her unwavering gaze. It was a realization that whispered of hope, of a future he dared not imagine — one not dominated by shadows and insecurities, but instead bathed in love and understanding.

As he tried to hold her gaze, the truth felt like a promise, a step closer to what they both needed. And in that heartbeat of silence, he knew he had to let go of the past, to be brave enough to embrace the love that had always lingered just beneath the surface.

Matt stood still, his breath hitching as she cupped his cheeks, an unexpected wave of warmth flooding through him. Leaning into her touch, he could feel the sincerity radiating from her, a gentle reminder that pierced through his clouded mind. It was exhilarating and terrifying, overwhelming his senses in a way he hadn’t anticipated. The sensation of her honesty and love washed over him; it was intoxicating and achingly poignant.

As the emotions churned within him, Matt closed his eyes, savoring the moment. With vulnerability creeping in, he finally spoke, his voice a low murmur cracked by unspoken fears. “I really am an idiot, huh?” he managed, a soft laugh escaping, one laced with both self-deprecation and affection. The catholic he is.

“Yes. Yes, you are,” she replied lightly, a teasing smile blooming on her lips.

Matt couldn’t help but snort, amusement mingling with the tension that had enveloped them. He shook his head, half-laughing, half-choking back the flood of emotions that threatened to spill over. “I’m really sorry,” he murmured, genuine regret lining his voice. “My head’s just a mess right now, and—and I’m sorry... I—” His words faltered, grappling with the whirlwind of feelings too tangled to unravel.

“Honey, my head was hurting just thinking about you. Why do you think I’m here? I can’t concentrate when we’re not okay,” she chuckled, wrapping her arms around him, coaxing him into her embrace.

When she pulled him close, Matt’s heart swelled, aching with a bittersweet blend of longing and relief. He instinctively returned her embrace, sighing softly as he pressed his cheek against hers. “I missed you,” he whispered, the desperation in his words betraying just how deep his feelings ran.

“I missed you too,” she whispered back, lifting his head gently to meet her gaze before leaning in to kiss him softly.

The moment their lips met, everything fell away—guilt, anxiety, insecurity dissipated into the air, leaving only the intoxicating warmth of her presence. Matt’s heart raced with fervor as he kissed her, an urgent blend of longing and need driving the connection deeper. His fingers curled around the fabric of her shirt, pulling her closer, as if trying to erase the distance of their troubles with every brush of their lips.

She hummed contentedly against him, losing herself in the sweet cadence of his kiss.

As they melted into one another, Matt's attention focused solely on her. He pressed her gently against the wall, his hands finding their way down her sides, tracing the soft curves of her body.

She kneaded his biceps slowly, savoring the warmth of his embrace as she kissed him languidly, rewarding his careful touches with her explorations.

Lost in the moment, Matt let out a soft moan as her hands roamed across him. His fingers, now more at ease, settled on her hips, feeling the fabric cling to her form. He pulled back slightly, kissing a path down her jawline and dipping lower along her neck. His breaths came in ragged bursts, mixing passion with tenderness.

In bliss, she smiled, opening her eyes lazily to steal a glance over his shoulder. That’s when she saw her—Karen, standing there with a look of shock that froze Y/N in place.

Matt hadn’t registered her entry through the haze of emotion and warmth that surrounded them. As he instinctively pulled back, the sudden realization of their audience washed over him like ice water. “Karen,” he murmured, his voice low and breathless, hands still lingering at Y/N’s hips as he pulled himself away from their intimate sphere.

“I—I brought bagels,” Y/N managed to blurt out, her face pale as she scrambled for normalcy.

“Right. Yes, bagels. Thanks for that,” Karen replied, fumbling for composure as he and Y/N stood there, their lips still swollen, the reality of their affection stark against Karen's disbelief.

“You’re welcome,” Y/N said, an embarrassed smile struggling to break through the awkwardness. She offered an awkward thumbs-up, trying to navigate the tense atmosphere that had suddenly enveloped them.

Matt swallowed hard, the sound of Karen’s quickened heartbeat only amplifying the embarrassment that filled the air. It dawned on him that in their moment of vulnerability, they hadn’t fully closed the door. “Right,” Matt finally murmured, clearing his throat as he released his hold on Y/N, taking a step back to create some distance. “Well, we should... get back to work.”

“Right! Yes! Of course. I’ll get out of you guys's hair,” Y/N said, her voice tinged with awkwardness as she adjusted her dress, reaching for her purse with shaky hands.

Taking a moment to collect himself, Matt thought desperately to reset the situation and sound slightly more professional. “Thanks for bringing bagels, by the way,” he said, forcing a casual smile.

“Yes, of course,” she replied, her smile a little strained as she reached up, planting a gentle kiss on his cheek for parting. “I’ll see you later. Tell Kirsten I said bye. Great to see you again Karen.”

Matt nodded, though his heart still raced in the aftermath of the unexpected interruption. He watched her leave, the heat creeping up his face, ignited by the kiss, his hand running through his already disheveled hair in nervousness. As she walked past Karen, Matt felt a pang of anxiety twist in his chest. What had Karen seen?

Once Y/N disappeared from view, Matt turned back to Karen, swallowing hard as his voice dipped to a hesitant murmur. “Did you... want a bagel?” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, trying to shake off the remnants of embarrassment that lingered in the air.

Karen stood frozen, her expression dazed as she processed the whirlwind of emotions swirling in the aftermath of what she had just witnessed. She turned to face Matt, her gaze flickering over his tousled hair and slightly crooked tie, evidence of the chaos that had only just unfolded. The tension in the air hummed between them, and Matt found himself shifting under her scrutiny, her heartbeat echoing in his ears like a drum.

Clearing her throat, Karen finally managed to speak, her voice still tinged with breathlessness. “Uh... no, I’m good,” she said awkwardly, her hands fidgeting anxiously at her sides.

Matt swallowed hard, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He took a slow step back, retreating to his desk, rubbing the bridge of his nose in an attempt to relieve the exhaustion that suddenly engulfed him.

For a heartbeat, silence reigned between them before Karen hesitated, the words hanging heavy in her chest. “So... are we not going to talk about what I just saw?” she finally blurted out, her tone suggesting she was unsure whether it was a question she wanted to ask.

Matt rubbed at his forehead once more, taking a moment to gather himself before responding, his voice quiet and strained. “Which part?” he murmured, letting the weight of his defensiveness color the air.

Karen fell silent for a fleeting moment, her heart racing beneath the surface of her skin. Then, frustration bubbled over. “The kissing part, Matt! I don’t know if you’re aware, but that was a little more than friends, y’know?” Karen snapped, her irritation slicing through the tension that filled the room.

Matt's breath hitched, a slow exhale escaping his lips as he struggled with the storm of emotions churning within him. Hands curling into fists before releasing, he met her gaze, voice low and slightly agitated. “Look, I know it's startling, but I don’t think it’s any of your business.”

Immediately, he regretted the bluntness of his response as Karen’s irritation flared further. “Seriously? You’re gonna play the ‘not your business’ card?” she huffed, the tone of disappointment unfurling between them. “You’re one of my closest friends, Matt. I think a little explanation is warranted.”

Guilt flooded Matt's chest as he recognized the hurt in her expression. He took a steadying breath, rubbing at his forehead again, trying to suppress the turmoil that had rooted itself deep within. “I’m... I’m just not comfortable discussing this right now, Karen,” he admitted wearily, running a hand through his hair.

“Not comfortable discussing it or not comfortable discussing me?” she shot back, stepping closer to his desk, an air of defiance crackling between them.

Matt's shoulders tensed as he felt her encroaching presence. He knew exactly where this conversation was headed, and it filled him with trepidation. “Karen... this has nothing to do with... us,” he muttered, referring to the brief romance they had shared before coming to the disheartening realization that their bond was strictly platonic.

At the mention of their history, Karen paused, her heart rate quickening. “Then... what’s different with her?” she murmured, vulnerability creeping into her voice.

Matt hesitated, battling against the urge to shield Karen from the truth. But deep down, he recognized the necessity of honesty, even if it risked deepening her wounds. “She... gets me. In ways that you can’t. In ways that nobody else has. She... knows me,” he confessed quietly, his voice as fragile as the space between them.

The admission hung in the air, thick with emotion. Karen remained silent, hurt creeping into her tone as she asked, “How so?”

Matt swallowed hard, acutely aware of his role in this painful exchange, the guilt twisting like a knife in his gut. “She... accepts me for what I am,” he said softly, the weight of vulnerability heavy on his tongue. “My whole life, I’ve been trying to hide my... my darkness... It’s in my blood. But with... with her, I don’t have to hide. She knows that I’m a damaged person, but she still trusts me.”

His words hung between them, bruised and raw. “She doesn’t see my darkness as a flaw like everyone else does, including you,” he muttered, feeling the weight of Karen's gaze pierce through him. “She makes me feel... accepted. Loved. She... she knows the worst parts of me, and she loves me anyway.”

“And before you ask, she knows all of my darkest secrets, all the things I’ve done that I'm not proud of.” He thought back to his moment of violent vulnerability, when he had pushed Ben Poindexter off the roof of Josie’s in retaliation for losing the most important person in his life–his best friend– besides Y/N.

“And she still loves me. I feel the same way about her.” Matt continued, each word dragging him deeper into a chasm of mixed emotions.

“She cares about me, even when I drive her away for her protection. She gives me advice to help manage my... my emotions. She listens to me ramble about law stuff when she's won bigger ones than I have. We talk for hours... hours about everything and nothing. She brings me coffee, and she... she makes me laugh.”

He could see the realization dawning in Karen's eyes, the hurt echoing through her silence. “She’s seen the worst of me. I’ve seen the worst of her. And despite everything, nothing has shaken her faith in me. Nothing has shaken my faith in her,” he pressed on, conflicted resolve stitching his emotions together. “Which is more than I can say for you and I.”

Matt saw the flicker of comprehension cross Karen's face, her heart heavy with the implications of his words. “You can’t deny that you’ve given up on me at some point. You’ve doubted me. You’ve questioned my actions. You’ve accused me of being reckless and impulsive. You’ve judged me, just like everyone else did. But not her.” The weariness of his voice deepened, guilt gnawing ever harder.

In the aftermath of his pouring out, Karen stood silent, the weight of Matt’s words anchoring her in place. “I’m not saying you're a bad friend, Karen,” he finally offered softly. “I care about you deeply. But... but us... not happening.”

The air thickened with a heavy silence, tension radiating off both of them as he braced for her reaction. She inhaled sharply, the tremor of her breath betraying the tumult of emotion surging within her. “So... so where does that leave me?” she whispered, her voice cracking with raw heartbreak.

Matt winced at the sorrow that laced her words, his heart breaking anew. “Karen... you’ll always be my friend,” he assured her, a muffled gentleness in his tone. “You mean the world to me. But... but I can’t be what you want. You were right to start anew in San Francisco. I don't blame you for that. I just wished we could still be friends. Even if–”

He choked, ‘Even if Foggy’s not here anymore.”

The finality of his words hung heavy in the air, laden with unspoken pain. Karen took a shuddering breath, her emotions swirling helplessly at the surface. “I... I understand,” she murmured, the ache in her heart evident even amidst her acceptance.

When the day ended, the weight of the conversation lingered in the empty spaces between them. The office held an air of strained civility, yet their bond felt irreparably frayed. Matt tried to push through the tension, his mind wandering to thoughts of Y/N, the warmth of her laughter flickering like a beacon in his heart.

Even amidst the awkwardness, hope stirred deep within him—a hope for a connection that felt rooted in acceptance, for someone who dared to love him in his entirety—his light, his dark, and everything in between.

Matt sat at his desk, engrossed in paperwork, the weight of the day leaning heavily on his shoulders. The hum of the office buzzed around him, a steady backdrop of typing and quiet chatter. But when his phone rang with a familiar name ringing out in the space of his office, an exhilarating flutter erupted in his chest, cutting through the monotony of the day.

“Hello?” Matt greeted her, his voice already imbued with an unmistakable warmth that he reserved only for her.

“Hey, babe. I was thinking about you. How do you feel about Italian?” Her voice, sweet and melodic, washed over him like a gentle tide, banishing his fatigue and wrapping him in a cozy embrace. He couldn't contain the smile that spread across his face at the sound of her.

“Italian? Sounds perfect. You’re thinking of going out?” he asked, a playful lilt dancing in his voice, buoyed by the anticipation of her reply.

“I was hoping you’d be available for a little date night?” she asked shyly, and he could almost picture her biting her lip, excitement shimmering beneath a veneer of bashfulness.

His heart did a delightful flip at her words, a glimmer of joy lighting up his spirit. “I’m always available for you, sweetheart,” he replied, his tone affectionate yet teasing as if they were locked in a private world together. “Just say when and where, and I’ll be there.”

A soft giggle fluttered through the phone line, and he felt his heart swell. “Um—how about in 5 minutes? I’m already on my way.”

Matt chuckled, his smile brightening even more, the delight bubbling over. “Five minutes?” he repeated, mock incredulity threading through his voice. “You’re very eager today, aren’t you?”

“To see you? Always,” she replied smoothly, and his stomach twisted joyfully at the weight of her words, a warm glow spreading through his chest.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he teased, the playful grin on his face betraying the joy he felt. “Making me feel very special here.”

“Then it’s working. See you soon.” The line went dead, leaving him grinning as he hung up the phone, disbelief and delight swirling together in a zesty blend of emotions.

Amusement bubbled in his chest as he gathered his belongings. He grabbed his cane, ready to step out, and poked his head into Kirsten’s office, letting her know he was stepping out for a while. “Taking a quick break,” he said, unable to contain the glee that was evident in his smile.

Once outside, the cool evening air greeted him, sending a delightful shiver down his spine. He leaned against the wall, anxiety and excitement intertwining as he eagerly awaited Y/N's arrival. Every passing second felt like an eternity; the world around him blurred as he focused entirely on the thrill of seeing her.

He replayed their conversation in his mind, the way her voice had wrapped around him like a warm blanket, soft and inviting. Had it just been moments? Time skewed in his mind, every second apart magnified, charged with anticipation.

Finally, the sound of approaching footsteps broke through his reverie, and his heart raced as he turned his head. There she was, her familiar heartbeat thudding and the sweet scent of her detergent wafting over him.

“Hey, you!” she called out brightly, her smile enveloping him in a wave of joy.

“Hey,” he replied, his voice almost breathless. “You look amazing.”

“That line doesn't work cause you can't see me, Matty. But I have to say, you look devilishly handsome,” she said, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “Now, let’s get that Italian food before I get too hungry.”

As they began to walk, side by side, the cool air filled with easy laughter and comfortable conversation that flowed effortlessly between them. The evening stretched before them, full of endless possibilities as they headed toward a night woven together with warmth, fun, and affection.

With Y/N at his side, every moment felt vibrant and alive, painting the canvas of their shared experience in rich hues of excitement and romance. In that moment, under the open sky, with laughter hanging in the air around them, Matt felt something click into place within him. He was exactly where he was meant to be.

The End.

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