SUMMARY: After escaping the Red Room and the chemical subjugation that Dreykov had on you, you hide in the guts of Hell's Kitchen only to fall for a lawyer who might be hiding a secret larger than yours. Fast forward to years later and yours and Matt's secrets are out in the open.
WC: 1.4k
WARNINGS: none.
NOTES: this is just a blurb but feel free to inbox me / reply below if you guys want to see more! based off deny deny deny by noah kahan, title is from downfall also by noah kahan!
read on ao3!
He tasted your secrets even before you lied about your name.
Foggy had told him you were trouble, a second coming of what Elektra had done to him all those years ago, after he had introduced himself to you at that sticky counter of Josie's bar. Matt ignored his friend's warnings; he's older, less naive and less inclined to believe a woman just because she held the promise of loving the Devil inside him.
"Yelena," you introduced yourself, an instinct to shield your true name and a comfort to borrow a sister's. You hoped Lena doesn't mind — you didn't expect much to grow out of what may possibly be just a one night stand. (You've never been more wrong.)
"Matt," he chuckled. He had a wry smile on his face, as if he knew something you didn't. "Can I get you a beer?"
You shrugged carelessly. It was a weak moment for you; waking up from what had been chemical subjugation only to have to relearn what your true wants are aside from what Dreykov had programmed in you could leave a girl a little vulnerable, after all. "Sure. Rough day?" You tapped his briefcase that he settled on the counter before boldly reaching up to gently tap the circles that hung beneath his red tinted glasses.
If it wasn't for his senses dialed up to eleven, he might've flinched at your touch. "You could say that."
He heard you hum quietly. "… Corporate douche or martyr lawyer?"
Matt barked out a laugh, pleasantly surprised. "You might've hit it on the money there on the second."
Josie approached with two bottles and placed it between you two, a knowing glint in her eye. You grabbed yours by the neck and took a sharp swig. "I've been told I'm pretty observant."
When Matt reached for his, you clocked the injuries on his knuckles, stirring the intrigue in your gut about the odd lawyer that might've stolen your attention. Conversation flowed easily between you both and one thing led to another and you were waking up at his apartment.
It was stupid to get so attached but you were trained for extraction, whether it was for a target or for yourself, and you packed whatever you left behind from Matt's apartment before he got home.
The darkness of the evening provided cover as you walked briskly in Hell's Kitchen, not out of fear but rather urgency. There were signs of Widow involvement near this particular borough and you wanted out before Dreykov caught a whiff of you or the kind lawyer that burrowed himself into a heart you didn't know you still had.
Unfortunately, you found yourself pinned in an alley by a few thugs with the sole intent of attacking for the hell of it. You caught a shadow above the rooftop but you didn't let yourself dwell on it; you wouldn't be who you are now if you expected anyone to save you. Instead, you sighed dramatically and dropped your bag by the dumpster, rolling your neck casually.
"Listen, boys, I've got a flight to catch. I don't have time to play."
They sneered at what they assumed to be false bravado. "Just hand over your bag, sweetheart, we don't gotta hurt you."
The old nickname had been Matt's, the easy affection he drowned you in always leaving you offguard, and the frustration comes to a peak inside you. With a low curse in Russian, you disarmed and knocked out all three men with fast and hard jabs to their gut and trachea before hooking your legs around the tallest one to bring down in a quick swoop.
You landed silently back onto your feet without even a hint of breathlessness, grabbed your bag and walked off to hail a taxi. You were completely unaware that the Devil of Hell's Kitchen had witnessed it all.
—
"Matt, your ex is back."
Karen lifts her head up from her desk in immediate curiosity as Foggy enters the office with a box of donuts. Matt groans silently, rubbing his eyes from beneath his glasses.
"Which ex?" Karen asks as she plucks a donut from the box and Matt senses the playful grin on her lips.
Foggy leans against the table with a shrug. "Matt never got her real name. She called herself Yelena."
"What, you never learned her real name and you dated her? Matthew," she scolds lightly before wiping away at her lower lip. "What happened? Did she… learn about your nightly activities?"
"Don't say that, you make him sound like a stripper," Foggy groans as he pours himself a cup of coffee.
"No, but I might've found out about hers, the night before she left."
"Wait, so she's the stripper? You never shared this, Matt."
Matt sighs heavily and Foggy raises his hands in silent surrender. "I saw her… take down three thugs from the Dogs of Hell, on her own." The severity of his words settle in like a leaden weight. Vigilante. Mercenary.
"Jeeze, Matt, you sure know how to pick 'em."
—
The threat of your presence hangs above him like a guillotine.
You had been an anomaly, something that he's yet to experience in his time as the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. Your lies flowed smoothly from your tongue without a change of your heartrate and it had terrified him the first time around.
It should've been his first red flag; why stay with a woman that lives her lies as easily as truth?
And yet he stayed, not just because the sex was good, but because there had been an undercurrent of truth that even you didn't seem to be aware of. He remembers the way your heartrate skips a beat when he would catch you by surprise, kissing your shoulder. He remembers the way your smile would feel pressed against his skin when you indulge him in cuddles. He remembers the way your tone lilts in that teasing way whenever you called him 'sweetheart'.
You were allowed to have secrets — maybe that had been why he turned his head away from your blatant lies when he had one of his own.
Now you're back and he isn't sure how to see you again.
However, maybe the Devil might have better luck than Matt Murdock when it comes to you.
—
"I didn't know I'd be meeting the Devil so early. Come to collect my soul?"
He had landed silently on the rooftop but you didn't look up from where you're leaning against the lip of the brick parapet that has a view of the city. The scent of gunpowder and gunoil lingers on you and he finds himself hating it, hates the way he can't smell you beneath the violence you wear like armor.
"That depends. Have you done anything that deserves damnation?"
You snort and your head drops lightly before peering over your shoulder. There's a tinge of amusement that he recognizes, something he had heard from his couch when you'd tease him about something stupid and irrelevant.
"Plenty. Although I figured it'd be God that would smite me down Himself. But you can relax, Mr. Devil… I'm not here to cause trouble."
Truth.
In fact, it's the most truthful you've sounded since he's known you.
"Then what are you doing here?"
"Cleaning up a few messes I left behind. Maybe stop a few messes that might've followed me here…" Something settles into your tone that he can't quite draw out. Regret? Repentance? Before he can pick it out, dissect it the best he can, he hears your footsteps bring you closer to him. He instinctively stiffens, chin dipping slightly to give an approximation of meeting your gaze.
Beyond the gunpowder scent that clings, he catches the perfume you had worn that first night he met you. "Is someone after you?" The gruffness breaks away into something quieter although there's a heat that never goes away, not when the Devil in him senses the need to obliterate whoever could've made you run in the place.
To his surprise, you release a humorless laugh, a hand settling on his jaw where your fingertips trace the edge of the mask where it meets his chin. "Always a hero, aren't you? My favorite martyr…" He stiffens but before he can pull his face away, you sweep your thumb across his cheek, the same way you've done all those years ago.
~ omg two posts in two days 😮 this is not edited at all so ignore my mistakes
~ Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, WC: 1,679
- Matt comforts insecure reader -
Dating a blind guy is very different from any other relationship you've had for very obvious reasons. Not only is it an adjustment going out with and even living with someone that can't see, but Matt is different. He has senses that other blind people don't which makes things even harder. You love Matt but that doesn't mean it's not an adjustment.
Obviously he can't see you but he knows everything about you. He knows the basics of how you look but not the details. Sometimes that's hard. Only because you fear he has some other idea of you in his head. Like the real you can't match up to the look of you he has in his head.
It's silly, you know, but it's not like you can just get rid of the thoughts in your head. Matt can tell something's wrong, a bonus of his super senses. So far though, he hasn't asked about it. He's learned over time to give you a little bit of time to process your issue before he tries to get involved.
It's not his fault, simply your insecurities getting the best of you. It'll be fine you tell yourself, wondering around the apartment you now share with Matt. Maybe that's where it's coming from. You guys have always spent a lot of time together but now your space is his, and when you want space to yourself, you don't have a separate apartment to hide in. You certainly don't want that but what if he does?
You turn on some music to fill your rattled brain. Nothing loud but enough to distract your thoughts. You soon turn from wondering to cleaning. It's become a daily habit since Matt rarely has time. You have no problem doing it because you know it makes Matt feel slightly better. Not as much dust and grime for his senses to focus on.
You're very ingrained in your scrubbing of the counter when you hear the door shut.
"Hey, Matty." You call out to greet him, not taking your attention off the counter for a second.
"Hi." His faces lights up as he sees you. "How was your day?" He asks, planting a soft kiss on your temple.
"Not nearly as eventful as yours I imagine." You smile, turning around to meet his beaming face. He has already taken off his suit jacket while walking towards you and has began loosening his tie. Giving him that slightly casual look that you know and love.
"I actually think that's true today, though the most amusing part of it was hearing Foggy fall out of his chair not once but twice within a twenty minute period." You listen intently to his words as you finish wiping off the counter. His words get quieter as he slowly makes his way to the bedroom for more comfortable clothes.
You know Matt feels a great pressure to keep the city safe by going out every night, but your favorite night of the week is the one where you've both agreed he stays in. One of the few requests you had when moving in.
"How the hell did he manage that?" You chortle, imagining it in your head. You can hear Matt's laugh from the other room.
"I have no clue, you'd think he'd learn after the first time." He comes back into the living space wearing black sweatpants and a plain t-shirt. After you got together, you had to take Matt shopping for new, plain, clothes considering most of the ones he owned had something stupid and possibly embarrassing on them due to Foggy, bright colors and big slogans. "I heard him whine about it for the rest of the day."
"At least your days aren't boring like the other lawyers."
"That's definitely a plus of partnering with him."
This is the best part of your day. Talking to him about your days and gossiping about the people you know, plus all the people Matt hears about during the day. The only problem seems to be the words that won't leave your head.
"How do you feel about spaghetti for dinner?" You ask him as he grabs a water out of the fridge. Usually, he'd grab a beer but out of fear for his liver you haven't bought any in a week.
"Sounds perfect. How can I help?"
"I can do it, you worked all day."
"Worked is a loose term." He laughs to himself. You and he both know a lot of their work consists of finding new cases.
"You can boil the pasta if you want to be helpful."
"Oh that's easy. It's almost as if you don't believe in my culinary skills."
You turn and give him a stare that makes him smirk. "Matthew, I know what you lived on before I moved in."
"Okay water it is." He gives you get another kiss before searching for a suitable pot.
You hum along to the soft background music as you and Matt work on your tasks. Once he's done with his, he stands right beside you in silence.
"So." He starts.
"So?" You repeat.
"I didn't want to bring this up but I think it's important-"
"That sounds scary."
"For me, yes. I talked to Karen today."
Oh fuck. To say Karen knows your deepest darkest secrets would be an understatement. For Matt to start a conversation like this about her, she told him something. Something you're know wracking your brain to figure out.
It's not that you think Karen would sell you out. But Matt is very charming and sometimes you find yourself telling him things without even realizing.
"I would hope so." You try to play it off like you're not immensely worried about his coming words. "She is your secretary."
"I don't think she'd appreciate that title." He laughs nervously. You know he's nervous because his glasses are still on. He's trying to make sure you can't read him at the moment.
"What's wrong?"
"I don't want it to seem like I was invading your privacy."
"Matt, you always do that. You hear literally everything I do."
"Yes but this feels different."
"You wouldn't have started this conversation if you didn't have something to say so please get on with it."
"I heard you talking to Karen the other day when she was over. And I tried not to read too much into it but then I talked to her today and I'm officially reading into it."
"Karen and I have talked about a lot of things, that doesn't really help me understand."
You try to seem nonchalant by stirring the pasta sauce.
"I heard you telling her how you don't think you live up the version of you I have in my head." He whispers the words as if that'll make it easier. Of course. Out of everything he could've heard, it was the one thing you really, really don't want to talk about. You know Matt isn't going to let this go until you answer all his questions.
"That was over a week ago." You whisper over the sauce.
"I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. But I only heard a part of what you said and I couldn't handle not knowing the rest."
A heavy sigh escapes you. It's not his fault. You are still adjusting to how much he can hear from so far so you didn't even think about that when he came home that day. You also can't fault him for wanting to know more, if the roles were reversed you would've gone to Foggy to know more almost immediately.
"You obviously weren't supposed to hear that." You turn off the stove top and look at him. "I don't suppose we can keep acting like you know nothing about that?" Your words come out with a hopeful tone.
"No we can't. Sweetheart, how can you feel like that? Have I made you doubt yourself like this?" He pulls you away from the kitchen and pushes you to sit next to him on the couch.
"You have done nothing Matt. You're perfect. I just can't get it out of my mind that every time you're complimenting me, it's not actually me. It's the more beautiful version of me you have in your head." He already knows enough, might as well tell him the rest.
"I know what you look like. Maybe I can't see every detail but I know enough to know every compliment I've ever given you, has been for you. I can't see everything on your face but I can sort of see the shape of you."
You're just now realizing you've never actually asked Matt what he can see. Knowing he was blind you always figured he couldn't see anything.
"What do you see?" You ask now.
"It's difficult to explain. I see certain figures but not all the time. It's kinda like flames that prevent me from seeing things but they don't always stay in the same spot."
"So how are you so confident I'm the same that you think I am?" He moves closer to hold your hand and lean more against you.
"Because I've had everyone describe you. Foggy, Karen, even Frank at one point. And I've felt your face a lot, enough to understand the shape of everything. Your eyes, lips, nose. Everything that makes you, you."
"Feeling is different than seeing."
"For other people yes. For me, this is the only way I know a lot of things. It's the way I've learned to know things so I'm better at it. I don't need to see every detail when everything I've felt is beyond perfect."
You feel tears appear in your waterline. Leave it to Matt to know the perfect thing to say. Always.
"When I say you're perfect for me, I mean it. More than anything."
He wipes the tears off your face the second they begin to fall.
"You're perfect for me too, Matty."
"Good." He states. "You're gonna be with for the rest of forever."
Summary: A long day of soul-searching leads you right to the offices of Nelson & Murdock.
Rating/Tags: G (Gender of Reader Is Not Specified; Second Person POV; Lawyer!Reader; Secret Identity; Beginning of Romance; Not Canon Compliant)
Word Count: 2,110
Challenge: 160 Collective Drabbles
Prompt: Seductive
Tag List: @imaginesfire
Notes: And now I have quadrupled my output from last year. Wow!
I actually work in a courtroom (I'm not an attorney), but I'm nowhere near New York. I did look up a few things to double-check legal stuff for the county this should be set in and whatnot. Still, if you happen to know I got a detail wrong, please let me know! I am always eager to learn and correct. Also, I've never seen anything beyond Daredevil season one, and it's been so long that the voice I had for Matt was based more on Samuel Brewer's performance in Terminal Degree.
Titling this one was a real pain. It's still not great. They've all been pretty bad lately, haven't they?
Ao3 Version Here
Introspection
Most of Hell's Kitchen was shrouded in darkness when you stepped out of your taxi in the wee hours of the morning. The businesses lining the streets loomed empty around you. Surely those living in the apartments nearby slept as best they could—though how, with the bass pounding from the still-hopping clubs a block or two over, you didn't know. Your driver must have heard those siren calls himself, because you barely had time to pay his fare before he sped away. You stood stranded in the island of light coming from the streetlamp above your head.
Well, what was the point in catching a ride all the way out here in the middle of the night only to chicken out when you got there? This would not be the first time you ate crow, nor did you suspect it would be last. You tried not to anticipate the taste too much as you took a deep breath and forced yourself to face the shadowed entrance to the offices of Nelson & Murdock.
You wavered for a moment with your arm outstretched, hand nearly grasping the bar across the door. Yes, it was dark inside. Not a single light on in the entire building as far as you could tell. And why should you think anyone would be here at 2:00 in the morning? Just because you'd been stuck at your office this late didn't mean the same for everyone else working the case.
No. No excuses. You'd just steeled your resolved to press forward when you heard a commotion above your head: the clang of something hitting metal, followed by rapid footsteps. You grabbed at once for the canister of pepper spray in your purse, but when you looked in the direction of the sound, you saw nothing that might have caused it.
Probably just a stray cat.
This time, you really did force yourself to push on the door. It opened easily. Damn. Now you had to go through with this, or at least check for signs of a break-in—not that you were likely to see any in the pitch-black you now stood in.
Your call of "Hello?" broke in two after its first syllable, interrupted by a series of thumps issuing from the ceiling.
What it was was absolutely too big to be a cat.
You should have called the police. Obviously! What could you do to stop someone with the balls to rob a defense attorney's office? Your pepper spray wouldn't do a thing to stop someone like that. But your feet took you up the stairs before you could reach for your cell phone instead. Somehow, someway, you managed to bound all the way up the incline without tripping on something in the unfamiliar territory.
There. The nearest door. You could hear beyond it. With as much force as you could muster, you slammed the door open. At least if you could startle the intruder, that would give you the chance to —
"Counselor. What an unexpected surprise."
—the chance to look like a complete buffoon. Matt Murdock sat at Matt Murdock's desk in Matt Murdock's office, looking entirely unruffled in the light coming from the window behind him. Well, maybe not entirely unruffled. It looked as though he had hat hair, although your jobs being what they were, you'd never actually seen him wear a hat.
You must have waited too long to speak, because Matt cocked his head slightly to one side and asked, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Uh," you said, in a desperate bid for time. But the second it took you to say that didn't give you any grand ideas for answers. "I was in the neighborhood."
"This neighborhood? Really?"
How did this man always manage to sound so polite and so condescending at the same damn time? You stalked up to his desk and slammed your palms into its surface. Matt didn't even flinch. "Listen, Murdock. I was nearby, I heard something up here, and I rushed in to help at risk of my life. And this is the thanks I get?"
"I take it by your attitude that you were not 'nearby' to offer apologies for your earlier conduct," he observed in that same infuriatingly mild tone.
"What I was nearby for isn't the point!"
"On the contrary, Counselor. I think what you're doing breaking into my office when you didn't believe anyone would be here is the point."
"I—" You bristled, cutting yourself off as you realized Matt had you dead to rights. After your performance that morning, people weren't likely to believe you had good intentions being where you were when you were. You wouldn't believe it, had the roles been reversed. So you forced yourself to inhale slowly and step away from his desk.
"I only lied about why I was here. I did come to see you. But I didn't break in. The door was unlocked."
"And you decided to keep going even though all the lights were turned off."
"I told you I heard something up here!"
There was just something about Matt's demeanor that pushed all your buttons, and you weren't known for your even temper to begin with. Then it dawned on you:
"And you are here. Why are you here sitting in the dark?"
One corner of Matt's lips twitched up. "Well, it isn't as though I need a lamp. It keeps the bills down, which in turn keeps Foggy's blood pressure down."
"Do you often say here in a completely dark building so late after closing?"
"No. Our discussion today raised some questions for me. After all this time, I'd hate to see my client in chains over a technicality." He tapped on the thick, hard cover of a tome sitting closed in front of him. "And you're lucky I did tonight and that I have no plans to press charges."
"And if you did, I'd never try to prevent someone from stealing from you again."
"I'll be more careful to lock the door when I'm here alone late. At any rate, I'm afraid all you heard was my fumbling through my case files. I'm sorry for causing you concern."
"Are you sure? I swear I heard someone on the fire escape before I came in."
"Must have been a stray cat," he said as he moved to switch on his desk lamp. Doing so could only be for your benefit. You took the hint and collapsed into the chair across from him. God, even just talking to this man made you tired. "Not that I don't appreciate a purely social call from a person of your caliber, but I do have a lot of reading to do before I file in the morning. Why don't you just tell me what brought you here to begin with," he said.
Your hackles raised automatically. It took some willpower to lower them—willpower and a reminder that you'd already admitted to wanting to see him. The fight left you as you sighed.
"I came to say...I'm sorry," you said.
A long paused followed your statement. Matt appeared frozen in place. "Excuse me?"
A spark of frustration seared inside your chest, but you stifled it before it could grow. You'd spent most of the day consumed by that fire. Time to let it go.
"I'm sorry for my behavior in court this morning. The judge should have held me in contempt. I was out of line."
There was more, and Matt must have known that. He said nothing while you mentally prepared to continue.
"We've both been on this case for a long time. It's been my life for months now. And the suggestion we might be on the wrong track..."
"Stung?" Matt offered pleasantly.
"It's ludicrous! My investigator couldn't be that wrong. All my witnesses can't be lying. The evidence leads us directly to your client. But..."
Matt's eyebrows folded into one long line above the frames of his glasses. "But?"
"You were right," you said softly. "Maybe I've been living this too long. Maybe I want this to be over more than I want the truth."
It was a difficult thing to admit. The implications of doing so would have far-reaching consequences. But as long as you said it out loud, one of those consequences wouldn't have to be losing your soul in the slow-grinding wheels of justice.
"Thank you for saying that," Matt said, and oh no. You recognized that note in his voice. If you let him go on in it, you'd regret it. "I—"
"Which is why tomorrow I'm going to request to be withdrawn from the case."
"What?"
"It'll be better for everyone involved. We can get some fresh eyes on it, let someone new take a look."
"You getting taken off the case is the last thing I wanted."
"Why? It's not as though you've invoked your right to a speedy trial."
"You know the case. You know my client is innocent!"
"I don't know that, Matt!"
"But you admit it's a possibility."
Your hesitation to disagree answered for you. Matt half-rose from behind his desk, leaning across it to whisper, "Don't you want to know? Don't you want to find out why they've all been lying to you?"
You shook your head. "I think all I really want is to be done."
The unasked question of done with what? rang in the air. An unexpected lump in your throat made it impossible for you to speak. Then Matt opened a drawer, and the sudden noise of it made you jump in your seat.
"You know what we both need?" That strangely impish smile of his had returned.
"A straitjacket and a white room?"
"A break." He stood with his briefcase in his hand. "You said it yourself. We've been working this case a long time. A few hours of time to ourselves won't ruin it."
You nodded again as you dragged yourself up out of his chair. That was all you had the energy for. "I'll get out of your hair. I should probably try to get some sleep before I talk to my boss anyway."
A faint touch on your elbow kept you from moving very far. When you glanced back, you found Matt's hand grasping you there. "Come with me," he said.
Great. Now you'd been mulling things over so much you were hallucinating. You jab about the straitjackets sharpened into a nearing reality. In an effort to save the miniscule amount of dignity remaining to you, you laughed a little hysterically during your attempt to shake him off.
"I'm not going to your house with you, Murdock."
"You wound me, Counselor. What sort of cad do you take me for?"
"Then what are you suggesting?"
"The bars are still open for another or so. Let me buy you a drink. We can talk."
You recoiled far enough to get his arm to drop. "And what will people think of us out colluding in public?"
Matt shrugged. "We won't talk about the case, so we won't be colluding."
"We can claim that all we want. The judge will be concerned with what the witness thinks they saw."
"If someone accuses us of colluding, what's the big deal?" Here, he looked over his red lenses directly into your eyes; you felt goosebumps prickle up your arms at the feeling Matt could actually see you. "You're already talking about stepping back. I happen to know a defense firm that might be interested in someone of your talents if you get forced out."
He shifted his cane and his case to offer you his arm in silence, the obvious ghost of a smile pulling at his lips. You paused. His offer sounded good—better than it should have, considering all your bombastic meetings in court up until then. Then, before you could change your mind, you bent over to switch off Matt's lamp. Your arms hooked together, and his smile widened before he tugged you gently in the direction of the exit.
Matt Murdock was an infuriating man. Equal parts charm and sarcasm, you always found yourself thinking about him long after any hearing where you tried to tear each other apart. At the same time, you couldn't deny that he was honest and good, and, you thought, while you locked the door to the office behind you both with the key he passed to you, more than a little seductive when you got him alone. If things didn't work out with your boss later that morning, taking Matt up on his offer didn't seem like an awful idea after all.
tags & warnings: literally just porn with no plot, vaginal sex, semi-public sex (kinda); this isn’t too explicit but it’s definitely still 18+; more notes at bottom of post
word count: 2.2k
Cool air and the sound of city life floated in through the cracked window of the office. It was dark, all the lights in the office turned off, the only illumination coming from the streetlights outside. You knew it was impossible to be seen here, but you still felt exposed, skirt pulled up and resting on your waist, panties lying somewhere on the floor.
Matt sat in his office chair, still fully clothed. Perched on top of him, knees bracing his thighs, the feeling of his slacks on your bare legs, you craved nothing more than to feel his skin on yours. You’d asked him to let you undress him, just unbutton his shirt, even, but he denied you. He always did.
“It’s about you,” he’d purred in your ear, sounding breathless and ragged. “Wanna focus on feeling you.”
And he did. The warmth in your stomach made its way up to your chest and down to your core as his hands wandered lazily under your blouse, up your back. The feeling of his breath on your neck made your heart race.
Nimble fingers unbuttoned your shirt, and he took his time with them, the ache in your core growing with each loosened inch of fabric. His hair tickled your jaw as he planted hot kisses up and down your neck, as he pulled your blouse off down your arms.
A satisfied sigh fell from your lips as you leaned your head back, granting him more access to your bare skin. His mouth worked a path from your neck down to your chest, laying slow, lazy kisses on your collarbones, the dip in between them, down to your sternum, before finally running his tongue over your breast. The hot expanse of his tongue on the sensitive nipple brought another moan from deep in your chest.
But frustration burst inside you when he pulled back after only a few short, sweet seconds.
“Get up,” he told you. It wasn’t a command, but it wasn’t quite a suggestion either.
You did so without question, though, and also turned to face away from him when he told you to. His hands were back on you in an instant when he wrapped his arms around you and nudged you forward until your hips hit the edge of his desk. With a hand flat on your back, he gently pushed you forward until you were pressed against the desk, only your elbows and his arms around you keeping you upright.
“Matt-”
He shushed you. His voice wasn’t harsh, but it was commanding in a way that made you want to do whatever he told you to do.
The hard wood of the desk was cold underneath the bare skin of your stomach, but it was smooth, firm, sturdy in a way you found comforting. Like you were always meant to be leaned over this man’s desk in complete undress at any time, day or night. You were absolutely willing to be, you were sure of that.
“Nobody else is here,” he reassured you, as if he could read your mind, read the worries in the tenseness of your muscles.
His hands were feather soft at your hips, and his fingers smooth as silk as he trailed two of them over the base of your spine. Your eyelids fluttered shut, and the whimper you made at the faintest touch was almost embarrassing. His left hand snaked around you while his right held his own weight on the desk. His mouth found your spine, and he softly kissed every bump on the way up to your neck. You could feel the heat of him pressing into you, and you were beginning to feel desperate in a way you’d never experienced before.
He was still fully clothed, you could feel the soft fabric of his shirt against your bare back, but it was somehow the most sensual thing you’d ever felt. You were falling apart and he hadn’t even really touched you yet.
“Please, Matt-“ you tried again, but nearly jumped when his voice was right in your ear.
“Patience is a virtue,” he whispered, ruffling your hair with his breath.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity leaned over his desk and staying as still as you could while he admired you, his hand found your throat. He pressed lightly, just the slightest amount of pressure, but it sent your head spinning. You could hear rustling behind you, and you couldn’t help but be impressed with the dexterity he had as you heard the slide of his belt and the quiet zip of his pants.
The pressure left your throat and his fingers ran through your hair in a gesture far gentler than you were expecting. It was silent for just a moment and you felt your lungs begin to burn as you realized you were holding your breath.
“Are you ready sweetheart?”
His voice was so soft behind you, so gentle, you could have easily lost it in the ambient noises coming in from the open window. You swallowed hard, a rush of nerves and excitement flooding your body.
You tried to speak clearly, to give him a clear “yes” or “of course” or “please,” but all you could manage was a ragged “uh-huh.”
Another second of anticipation built in your stomach. You didn’t know what was going on behind you, and you knew better than to peek or to ask. But then his hand trailed back down your spine and onto your stomach, sliding down, down, down, until his fingers found the wetness growing between your thighs. He gave a satisfied hum as his middle finger dipped lower, grazing over your clit and sending a shiver through your whole body.
“Mm,” he hummed again, and you could feel the heat of his skin on your ass as he pressed closer to you.
When he was as close to you as he could get, his grip on your thigh holding you close to him, he slid his finger inside of you. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips. You felt filthy, having such a strong reaction to such a little touch. You felt him situate himself as he pulled his finger out, but you weren’t left empty for long. There was a pressure at your entrance as he pushed against you, a pleasant warmth that you felt yourself relaxing into.
And then you were seeing stars. With a single thrust he was skin to skin with you again, completely buried in your warmth.
“Oh, shit!” Breathless. Boneless. Suddenly nothing else in the world existed. “Fuck.”
Another moan, this time his, so close to your ear it made you jump.
“You okay?” he asked, his forehead leaned on your shoulder. As if he hadn’t just changed your entire life in one movement.
“Y-yes. Fuck!”
The slightest of movement from him and you whimpered again, the sheer feeling of Matt all the way inside you sending you closer to the edge.
“You feel so good,” he said, his voice low and ragged.
And holy shit, the thought of you having that effect on him- well it was almost too much to handle. When he pulled back out, the slow movement ripped another moan from your lips.
One of his hands reached around you again, this time cupping a breast, fingers running over the sensitive skin as he continued to thrust in, pull out, and repeat it all with a rhythm that had you shaking. It wasn’t long before you felt yourself climbing toward a climax.
“Shit, Matt, I-“ You wanted to fight it. You weren’t ready, didn’t want this to be over yet. “You’ve gotta stop or I’m gonna cum.”
“Good,” he answered, his voice nearly a growl, not letting up his pace at all. The sounds of skin on skin and the wetness between your legs were so loud and filthy you thought you might blush. “Give it to me, sweetheart.”
And you had no choice. You gave him everything you had to give. Your knees buckled and your elbows hit the desk, but you didn’t even notice over the stars shooting behind your eyes and the blood rushing through your body, from your heart to your ears, and it was all too much. The explosion was nothing short of euphoric.
And it had happened in a matter of minutes. Whenever you finally came back down, when you felt the sweat sticky on your skin, when you finally caught your breath, you opened your mouth. You weren’t sure what you were going to say, but you didn’t have a chance to say anything. Matt turned you around and captured your mouth with his again. His breathing was almost as heavy as yours,
In one unbelievably quick motion, he brought his office chair back behind him, sat down roughly, and pulled you closer until your shins were against him.
You gave yourself another moment to take him in, and he looked absolutely ruined. His face was flushed, he was breathing hard and fast, his face was needy, and my god, you had never been more attracted to him. He huffed, patted his hands on his thighs twice, and it was the only encouragement you needed.
More than eager, you joined him on the office chair again, knees straddled on thighs, arms wrapped around his neck. One of his hands went to the back of your head, so gentle as he led your forehead to his, eyes closed as he breathed fast. His other hand went to your hip, guiding you down at his pace. His face stayed close to yours, and you had a deliciously close view when his mouth fell open in pleasure as you fully seat yourself onto him. He groaned, a low, hot, ragged sound, and without thinking you buried your head into his neck, kissing and nibbling the soft skin without regard as you worked your body up and down.
A sharp tug on your hair stopped you abruptly, but all he said was, “No marks, still have work,” and then released your hair, throwing his head back into the chair.
The effect you had on this man was absolutely intoxicating. You were on top of him, riding him, kissing him, absolutely ruining him. You felt like you had so much power, though you knew he was the one allowing you to feel that way. Before you knew it, your next orgasm was on you.
You wanted to warn him, but you couldn’t get the words out, too tied up in your pleasure. You only stuttered a string of “please” and “yes” and “oh my god”s. His arms wrapped around you quickly though, as if he was trying to get as close to you as possible, and one hand was in your hair again and the other was on your back, and he groaned so beautifully and then choked out your name and said, “Please.”
And that was it. You were done for. For the second time tonight, you were gone. Your whole body went tense as the pleasure building up inside you finally snapped and filled every fiber of your being. And through your own intense pleasure you barely heard his hoarse cry, but suddenly you were on the floor, on your knees in front of him, and you were still contracting and clenching as his hand wrapped around his cock and stroked once, twice, and then he came, too, a wet heat on your chest that you felt spread down your stomach and onto your thighs.
Your muscles finally relaxed as you came down from your second high, and it took everything you had not to slump to the floor in a heap of boneless pleasure. It was in a haze that you saw Matt lean over to his desk, slide open a drawer and pull something out. Then he was on his knees in front of you, wiping his mess off of you with a handful of tissues.
“I’m sorry,” you heard him say through your haze, and your eyelids were getting heavy and you couldn’t figure out why he was apologizing.
“What’s wrong? Was that-?” You tried to wrack your brain for what could have possibly gone wrong.
“No, no,” he said quickly, and then his arms were around you again and he gently laid you back onto the floor. “I should’ve asked before I…well, it just snuck up on me, but I should’ve-”
You finally realized what he was talking about, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Don’t apologize. I liked it.”
He kissed you again before he laid back on the floor and wrapped his arms around you as you made yourself comfortable on his chest. You stayed like that for a while, both of you in a comfortable silence as the soft sounds of late night city life drifted in from the open window.
—
this is a first draft version of a scene that I cut out of no in-between, but I enjoyed writing it a lot so I thought I’d rework it a bit and share it. this is my first time really writing anything spicy/explicit, so I’m open to comments and constructive criticism. <3
summary: matt is the only one who he'll let get close when he has a bad day
warnings: just language ig
sorry for dropping off the face of the earth for months and not writing a single thing. this might be my comback, or all you will get for another year. we'll see! love u all.
To the rest of the world, Matt Murdock was hard to read.
To you, he was like your favourite book. One you’d read a thousand times; with a plot line you knew like the back of your hand. Every bump on his skin; every raised scar and jagged red wound from his night shifts; you knew the story behind them all. The long pink line on his back was fall out from a fight with the Yakuza two years back. The deep, sunken jag on his right hand was from an unfortunate incident when he was chopping up some vegetables two years ago. I might have super senses, he’d joked, but there are some things you just need sight for.
Matt’s emotions were no different. There were days when even Foggy wasn’t sure what he was thinking – whether his stony face was from boredom or anger, or whether his smile was happiness or just a slightly misshapen grimace. With a life as complicated as his, it wasn’t surprising that Matt came with the feeling to match. In the early days of your relationship, it was something you’d struggled with, but now you knew his signals and his tells. You could see a bad mood coming from a mile off, almost like a thunderstorm on a summer day. Equally, you knew his good moods from the way he would greet you brightly in the morning, or his anxious ones from the way he held your hand. They weren’t always easy to forecast but at least it made things a little more predictable.
A cold Tuesday morning in the fall was no different. September had just come, bringing with it shorter days and colder nights. The tension in your bedroom was high from the moment you woke up – actually, it had been since the small hours of the morning. Matt had come crashing in without a word, gear ditched to the floor. Any questions of his wellbeing or how his night had been ignored as he passed out beside you, back turned the other way. His snores had been the first thing you’d heard from him that night – not a single word, not even a grunt. You could feel an invisible line down the middle of the bed. It wasn’t one you wanted to cross.
You woke up naturally with the daylight- perks of it being a Sunday, you figured (though not a silver lining. Today didn’t feel like a day to be looking for those). Matt was still, tired body heaving with deep breaths as he slept. It was hard to shake the feeling of anxiety that had snuck its way into your stomach; butterflies now felt like wasps and any previous inclination you’d had to reach out to him had died with the hope of him waking up before you and apologising.
“Dickhead,” you muttered.
(You knew he would hear you).
Still, you knew something was up. Even if he’d projected it onto you by swatting your hands away last night and completely blanking you, something was up. It took a moment of building up the courage in your head, but as Matt let out a yawn and rolled over, you quickly moved to snuggle into his side. His hands were on his front, so you made a second attempt to tangle your fingers with his. He didn’t comply, but he didn’t resist either. You stayed like that for a moment, until his dark eyes shot open, and he let out a heavy sigh.
You could have pretended to still be asleep, purely just to avoid dealing with the situation, but who were you fooling? The man was like a human sonar. He would know immediately from your breathing that you were awake. Plus, your not-so-quiet insult just moments earlier didn’t exactly align with something you could brush off as sleep talk.
Matt sat up, blinking for a moment. Any other morning, he would have pulled you into him; pressed a kiss to your forehead and held you tight. Not today, though. He snatched his hand away from yours and shrugged you off, pattering across the wooden floor out the bedroom and to the bathroom. The door slammed and a second later, you heard the spattering of the shower.
You stayed there for a second, heart thumping in your chest and heard swirling with thoughts. Why was he being shitty? Was it your fault? No, you told yourself. It wasn’t fair on you to jump to those conclusions. If he had a problem, it was on him to tell you. You’d made it clear from day one that you hated guessing games. Guess Who was one thing but Guess Why I’m Angry At You had no winners.
The water eventually stopped. Rather than coming back through to the bedroom as he normally would, there was silence. You frowned for a moment – what the fuck was he doing? Was he actually that intent on avoiding you?
You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, swinging your legs out of bed and heading out of the bedroom. Matt was the first thing you saw in the living room, skin still covered in droplets of water from the sofa, butt fuck naked. He had a file open in front of him, callous fingers following over the braille as he read it, barely pausing to acknowledge your presence. You could have made a comment about him getting your thousand-dollar sofa wet, even a joke, but that didn’t feel like the right play.
“Hey,” you said.
No answer.
“I have to ask,” you continued, crossing the room and taking a seat beside him. Not close enough for your legs to be touching, but close enough that he knew you were there. “Have I done something?”
“No,” he murmured. “I’m just tired.”
His voice was barely above a whisper – barely even there. Something was seriously wrong.
“Okay,” you hummed.
You stayed like that for a moment – even though you could predict Matt’s mood, you couldn’t always predict what he wanted. If you touched him, would he flinch, or would the front come down? It was like hugging a nuclear bomb, even if the idea of his temper coming out on you was unfathomable.
“Do you want a coffee?” you gently asked.
Another pause.
“Yeah. I could do with a coffee.”
Trying to keep your nerves feigned, you crossed the room to the kitchen, hands working automatically. Kettle filled, turned on, two mugs out. One sugar and a tiny bit of milk for Matt, and then two sugars and no milk for you. He liked the blue mug, because it was easier to hold, and you preferred the purple one because it was the same shade of violet as the dress Taylor wore on the front of Speak Now. You’d brought it in a clearance sale when you and Matt just started seeing each other, and it was one of the first things you actually kept at his apartment.
You returned to the sofa, placing the coffee on the table in front of you. There was still no word from Matthew – not even a hm in place of a thank you.
“You’re worrying me,” you murmured.
Blanked.
Rolling your eyes – and finally getting sick of his head – you whacked the file out his hands and collapsed into his side. He didn’t immediately respond, but a moment later, his hand came down to touch your thigh. He gave your leg a squeeze, and you felt a minute bit of tension rise from the room. Not all of it, but the physical touch was enough to know that things would be okay.
You stayed like that for a moment, before wrapping your arms around him completely. You fell back into the sofa, letting Matt collapse into your chest. His hair was still wet from the shower, skin sticking to yours from where he was still drying, but you didn’t give a shit. You just wanted to hold him, hands roaming over his tense back, stopping on his shoulder blades and using your grip to pull him closer.
“Let’s go back to bed,” you said. “Just for a little while.”
He didn’t resist as you took his hand, tangling your fingers together and leading him back to the bedroom. Matt was hot on your heels, like a lost puppy now, and there was barely a second between you falling back first onto the bed and him following you. His entire body was on yours, legs tangling into a web and arms digging underneath your torso to hug you, head buried in your shoulder. He was limp – almost completely void of emotion.
Whatever barrier Matt had been putting up was gone, because as soon as you tangled a hand in his hair you could feel his hot tears on your skin. He’d only cried in front of you once before and that had been when you’d nearly died after a minor mishap (though he’d argue it was probably more). That meant that whatever had happened on patrol last night must have fucked him up a little – you didn’t want to ask, but you didn’t want to him to think he couldn’t talk about it.
“I’m here if you need,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “If you just wanna lay here or you just wanna talk, I’m right here.”
“Thank you,” his voice was still quiet. “I’m sorry about last night.”
“Don’t apologise,” you shook your head. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” he replied.
You tightened your grip on him and he tried to shuffle closer, even though it wasn’t physically possible. You were completely skin to skin and chest to chest, his forehead flush with your collarbone. It was raining outside now, the sound of water hitting the window filling the room with where tension used to be. That was gone now – maybe it hadn’t been there at all, just a figment of your anxiety.
You felt Matt’s eyelashes brush against your skin as he closed your eyes. Sleep was good. It was probably what you both needed, and with his warm, heavy body on yours, it was also hard to resist.
(All you could do was hope that you didn’t need to pee any time soon).
Summary: You can't help the way you feel about one Matthew Murdock, though you've spent years wishing you could. It would probably have made things a little easier.
Trigger warnings: none. Slight angst (but not really) with a happy ending.
Masterlist
"I don’t think this is working out for me anymore.”
The words echo in your head as you say them, getting louder and louder each time it finds a wall, ledge or corner to bounce off of. The man across the table stiffens, and there’s a sharp intake of breath that causes his nostrils to flare.
“What?” His tone is one of utter disbelief, and honestly, you can’t blame him. It had seemingly come out of nowhere, though lunch had been awkward as all hell, at least from your perspective. Apparently he hadn’t felt the same.
You wince, shifting your eyes away from him, hating to see the pain that’s beginning to bloom across his face. You hate this part. “I said–”
“I know what you said,” he snaps, the red tint in his cheeks deepening. You don’t take the tone to heart, knowing he’s only reacting the way he is because he’s hurt. “I’m just confused.”
Taking a deep breath, you continue to steel yourself, feeling the way your spine has straightened as you force yourself to say what you need to say. It’s not that you don’t want to break up with him, it’s just that you’re awful at confrontation. “I just…don’t think this is working. I don’t know what else to say.”
“You could start by telling me why,” he says, and you watch as the pain slowly shifts into something that’s a little frustrated, a little angry. “I thought things were going well.”
“They were–”
“Then what’s going on?”
“--until they weren’t.”
His face hardens. “But why? I don’t get it.”
You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose between your forefinger and your thumb, briefly closing your eyes. You look back up at him, noting the way his knuckles have turned white around the plastic cup of soda he’s holding. “I’m just not into it anymore, I guess? I don’t know.”
He gives you an incredulous look. “Not into it anymore?”
“Yeah. I don’t think this is right for me.”
“You don’t think I’m right for you, is what you’re saying.” The look on his face is accusatory, but what he’s said is 100% correct.
“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying,” your voice is quiet as you respond, shrugging your shoulders. You look at the wall over his shoulder, reluctant to look at his face directly and see the pain that’s radiating off of him.
The man barks out a sarcastic laugh, and the sound echoes throughout the quiet restaurant. A few other patrons look up in curiosity before continuing on with their lunch. “This is great. Fantastic.”
You grimace, fingers playing with the hair tie that's wrapped around your wrist. You’re a fidgeter, you can’t help it, and this is something that’s turning your stomach. You hate being the bad guy, even though it’s completely unintentional and you’re only trying to do what’s best for you. You’re allowed to be selfish in that regard, right?
“I’m really sorry,” you mumble just loud enough for him to hear. The apology doesn’t help, but you don’t really expect it to.
“Did I do something? Say something wrong?”
“No, it’s not that,” you say as you shift in your seat awkwardly.
“Then what?”
Groaning, you toss your head back to stare at the ceiling. Breakups suck, and it doesn’t matter what side of the equation you’re on. “It just doesn’t feel right. I don’t know how to describe it.”
He’s not satisfied with the answers you’re giving him, if the look he’s giving you is anything to go by. “You’re not making any sense at all. Can’t we just talk about this?”
“We are talking about this.”
The man gives a frustrated sigh as he runs his fingers through his hair. “No, you’re breaking up with me. That’s not talking about it. You’re telling me we’re done without giving me the chance to change your mind, or see what’s fixable.”
“There’s nothing wrong, and there’s nothing that needs fixing. You’re a great guy, I just–”
“Are you seriously giving me the “it’s not you, it’s me” line?”
You cringe, cheeks flushing. “That’s not…Look, I’m really sorry, but this isn’t what I want anymore. You didn't do anything wrong, so please don’t think any of this is on you. Some people just aren’t good matches, you know?”
“I can’t believe this,” he seethes. A waitress comes up to presumably ask a question, but you shake your head before she can say anything, trying to indicate it’s best she stays away. With a nod, she walks over to another table instead. You turn to look back at the man across from you, watching as he just about glares at you.
“I’m sor–”
“Stop apologizing,” he bares his teeth as he hisses the words. “Just tell me why my girlfriend is up and leaving without a conversation about it.”
Your mouth drops in surprise. “Girlfriend?”
“Yes, girlfriend. We’ve been dating for three months, what else did you think you were?”
“Three months isn’t a lot of time,” you say weakly, faltering just slightly. “I guess I didn’t see myself as your…girlfriend.”
A brief look of hope crosses over his face suddenly and a bad feeling settles over you. “Is that…is that why you’re breaking up with me? Because you wanted to be serious and you thought I didn’t?”
Fucking hell. “No–”
“Because I promise you, I want to be serious. I’m serious about you.”
“That’s not–”
“I’m really sorry if you thought I didn’t want more, and if that made you feel like you needed to cut yourself off before you got too attached. I can totally understand that.”
You’ve reached your breaking point. “Enough. No. That’s not why. I didn’t think this was serious, and I don’t think I wanted it to be serious. I don’t want to be with you. Why can’t you just accept that?”
His face darkens again as his eyes narrow drastically. “You’re fucking someone else, aren’t you?”
You jerk back, surprised at the accusation. “What?”
“That’s it, right? You’re fucking someone else, and you don’t want me anymore.”
“That’s a hateful accusation,” you glare at him as your voice lowers. “We may not have been serious, but I wasn’t…sleeping around.”
“Right,” he scoffs. “Maybe you were or maybe you weren’t sleeping with someone else, who knows. Maybe you just have feelings for someone else.” The words are spat out at you as if having feelings for someone else is worse than fucking someone.
But this accusation coming from him is…not wrong.
Flashes of a man, a devastatingly beautiful man, flip through your mind, and it’s easy to allow the images flood your consciousness. His dark hair and the way it has a reddish tone when it catches the light just right. A wide smile, framed by dimples and laugh lines, full lips open to give you a dry comment or a quiet compliment. Calloused hands that still feel smooth wrapped around your elbow, broad shoulders that carry the weight of Hell’s Kitchen on them.
Him. It’s always been him.
And it’s taken way too long to figure it out, way too long to give it a chance, way too long to admit how you feel.
The man across from you utterly sneers as he correctly reads the emotions flitting across your face. “That’s bullshit. You’re breaking up with me for someone else.”
You hang your head in an act of shame. You really do feel awful about this, even if he’s currently being an asshole. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for things to end this way. I can’t…help how I feel about him.”
His lips curl in something that’s bordering on loathing. “And if you could? Would you want to change how you feel about him?”
For the first time since you’d sat down with him to end things, you look him straight in the eyes, with absolutely no hesitation in your mind. “No. I wouldn’t.”
A bitter laugh escapes him. “Right. Great. Guess I’ll be leaving then.” He stands up, his chair screeching across the tile of the restaurant floor. He angrily tosses a twenty down on the table to cover his meal.
You look up at him with wide eyes, still hating the way you’ve hurt him. He was a good guy, just…not the one for you. “It was…uh. It was nice knowing you, David. I hope you find what you’re–”
The man storms away and exits the restaurant door in a fit of fury before you even finish speaking.
—---
Hours later, you’re standing outside his run-down green door, take-out in one hand and a pack of disgusting German beer in the other, anxiously shifting from foot to foot.
It’s ridiculous, you know it is. You told him you were coming over, so you know he’s home. And you also know he’s likely tracked your movement from two blocks away minimum and is fully aware you’re standing outside his door.
Sure enough, before you can even knock, it’s being opened from the inside. Matt stands in his doorway in casual clothes, his favorite ratty t-shirt and gray sweatpants (yes, fucking gray sweatpants, holy hell), with a smile on his lips as he immediately beckons you inside.
“Hey,” he greets you as you cross the threshold into his apartment. He reaches out and wordlessly grabs the beer and take-out from you so that you can remove your jacket and scarf and place them on his coat rack. “You know, it’s usually customary to knock on one’s door when you’re ready to come inside.”
You smile at the simple way he teases you as the pair of you walk into his living room. Things have just always been easy, always been effortless between you two. “I think the key word is ready in this situation.”
“Oh?” He asks curiously while he immediately begins unpacking the food and placing it on his coffee table. He’s already set out plates and napkins to eat dinner with, and there’s a glass of water waiting for you, knowing you prefer it to the beer you’ve brought over for him. “What were you waiting on?”
Oh, just trying to figure out how not to fuck this up.
“Nothing, I was just thinking,” you say instead as you toe off your shoes and move to sit on the ground in front of the coffee table. Matt thinks it’s amusing when you sit on the ground instead of the couch to eat, but he’s always quick to join you anyway. It's therefore no surprise that once the food is properly laid out, he’s sitting across from you on the other side of the table, legs stretched out underneath.
His feet, like usual, are covered in fluffy socks that roll up over the bottom of his sweats, much to your ever-lasting amusement. It’s adorable, and the fact that he has no idea what it does to you is ridiculous.
God, this man.
“Thinking? What about?”
You. Always you.
“Things,” you shrug nonchalantly.
“Things,” he says dryly. He places a large serving of your favorite dish onto a plate before he hands it to you. You’ve known each other long enough, been friends long enough, that he knows what you’re going to eat before you even say anything, always correctly anticipating what you’re hungry for. You take it from him with a grateful smile.
“Yes, things.”
He raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t say anything. It’s generally not like you to be vague, but he’s never been one to push. He knows you’ll tell him when or if you’re ready, because you always do. He’s the one person you tell everything to.
“Well, let me know if you need to talk about anything, okay?”
You smile, and the expression is genuinely open and happy. It’s an expression that is on your face more often than not when you’re around him.
Matt tilts his head towards yours, beautiful brown eyes that sometimes look hazel in the light aimed in your general direction, as if he can see the way you’re looking at him. Your heart is pounding in your ears, but in a way that you hope suggests excitement for your favorite take-out place rather than anxiety. He smiles softly, and you know he’s listening in.
You suppose people could find it intrusive, the way he’s able to know more about their bodies than they do. But to you, Matt’s only ever used his abilities to seek the truth and hold people accountable for their actions, regardless of the setting.
With a dorky grin still on your face, you find yourself digging into dinner, suddenly starving, realizing you hadn’t been able to eat much at today, both because David had taken you to a place he knew you hated for lunch, and because your stomach had been twisted into knots as you paced back and forth in your living room, trying to find the right words to say to the man in front of you.
“How’s that case coming?” you ask him, eyeing the sheets of paper spread gathered in a pile and his laptop on his kitchen table. It must have been one of the days he chose to work from home, if the mess is anything to go by.
Matt lifts a shoulder in response as he shoves another bite into his mouth and swallows. You eye the way his cherry, bow-strung lips wrap themselves around his fork. “It’s a bit of a beast, to be honest. No concrete alibi, a witness that places our client at the location of the crime within a few hours of it happening. But Foggy thinks he’s got a lead, so we’re hoping something comes through.”
“But you don’t necessarily have to have great leads, right? As long as you can discredit the prosecution’s?”
Matt looks so downright happy that your heart flutters in your chest. He sends you a teasing smile. “Yeah, that’s right. Look at you, it seems you do occasionally listen when I’m talking.”
“I guess I just like the sound of your voice,” you tell him sarcastically. Matt throws back his head and laughs as you chuck back the line you know he’s used on women before, yourself included.
“I’m blind,” he says when he’s done laughing. He takes another bite, and again you find yourself distracted by the movement. “It is fully within my right to use that line.”
“If you used it as a genuine compliment rather than a line to seduce women, I might be able to excuse it.”
He drops his mouth in mock upset. “Why can’t it be both?”
You snicker before taking another bite. “I’ve known you for years, Matt. If it was a genuine compliment, you’d say it to women you weren’t trying to hook up with.”
“That’s…fair.”
You laugh again. “I’ve known you for too long, Matt. I’ve figured out most of your secrets.”
“I highly doubt that,” he says with a grin, blank eyes aimed over your shoulder. “We wouldn’t be friends if you did.”
Your eyebrows raise as you consider him. “Is that so?”
His laugh is almost self deprecating, and it causes your lips to twist into a small frown. “No one wants to be inside my head. I don’t even want to be inside it.”
“And if I did?”
His expression is curious, his head tilted as he observes you in the way that is uniquely him. “Why would you want to do that?”
“Maybe I just want to know more about you,” you shrug your shoulders. You take a large sip of your water, lips curling briefly in disgust as he does the same with his beer. His beer of choice is revolting, and you’ve never been able to tell if he actually likes it, or if it’s because he thinks he deserves the worst in all things, even his alcohol. “We’ve been friends for a while, haven’t we? Sometimes I can tell you want to let things slip, but you always hold back.”
“It’s been a rough road,” he says in response, letting out a sigh as he shakes his head. You grimace, knowing just how rough the road has been, having met him at a low point in his life. But even at his worst, he managed to draw you in like a moth to the flame. “It wasn’t pretty. Not sure that’s something you want to hear about, sweetheart.”
His name for you rolls off his tongue easily, which is no surprise since he’s been calling you that ever since it randomly slipped out at a drunken night at Josie’s. You’ve worked hard over the years to not react to it in a way that wasn’t strictly friendly, but tonight you…can’t help it. The word runs through your veins before it settles in your heart, and you find yourself flushing.
Matt pauses, his next bite of food sitting on his fork halfway to his mouth. The tilt of his head indicates he’s picked up on the way your heart has briefly stuttered. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” you say, attempting to brush it off and not give yourself away so soon. You’ve planned out what you want to say tonight, and you’re…not quite ready to go there. You need to ease into it, prepare yourself for the possibility that he might not feel the same way, because there is still a very real chance that this will all blow up in your face.
“You sure?”
You smile softly, his quiet concern washing over you like a gentle breeze on a warm spring day. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
There’s a quiet lull in the conversation as you focus on the food in front of you, and the silence is a comfortable one. You watch as he takes another bite, eyeing the way he never spills a single piece of his food with a small sense of envy. You, on the other hand, cause a mess all over your own t-shirt with every meal, and tonight is no exception. You wet a napkin with your water and try to get rid of the stain that’s forming, though you know it’s not going to do much.
“What were you up to today?” His voice snaps you out of your head, the question popping up out of the blue after he takes another swig of his god awful beer. “Didn’t you take the day off? Karen said she called you earlier to ask if you wanted to grab coffee, but that you said you were out of the office today.”
“Uh, yeah,” you say as you push your plate away from you, having finished with dinner. Matt does the same after funneling in one last bite. Over the years, your work has sometimes overlapped with the practice of Nelson, Murdock & Page, so it’s not unusual for Karen to call you up for coffee breaks or lunch dates.“I took some time just to decompress for a bit.”
“Just for fun?”
You shift in your seat awkwardly before you choose to stand up to grab your dishes from his coffee table, intending to help clean up. Matt stands up quickly and waves your hand away, picking them up instead, along with the extra food neither one of you had eaten. He walks them over to the kitchen and places them into his sink with a clank.
“No, not really,” you tell him honestly after a moment. Your mind quickly shuffles through the best way to broach the topic. “I uh…I had lunch with David earlier.”
The entire line of Matt’s body goes stiff, and you watch as every inch of him stops moving in front of you from where he’s standing in front of the facet. He’s quiet for a moment, and it looks like a war is taking place inside his head as he frowns. He lets out a loud breath, and it strikes you that he looks like he’s trying to shake himself out of it, but failing.
“That’s…nice,” he says, and the words sound incredibly tense and forced. “I hope he’s doing well.”
You grimace at the reminder of David’s angry face, twiddling your thumbs as you stand awkwardly in his living room. “I don’t think he’s doing especially well right now.”
Matt grabs a few tupperware containers from under his kitchen sink and begins shoveling leftovers into them, his face carefully blank. “That’s a shame. Is everything okay?”
“Okay with me? Or okay with him?”
Matt’s head tilts at the question. “Both? Mostly you, though. Are you okay?”
“I mean…yeah,” you say, realizing it’s the absolute truth as a small smile appears across your face. Matt nods to himself, snapping the lid of a container shut, and if he uses a little more force than usual, neither one of you acknowledges it.
“That’s good,” he mumbles just loudly enough for you to hear from across the room. You watch as he walks over and places the leftovers in his fridge. “Good. I’m glad everything is good.”
“It is good,” you repeat, and your smile widens hesitantly, despite your nerves. “We went to that Mexican restaurant on 51st.”
Matt pauses and tilts his head towards you, looking confused. “You hate that place.”
You let out a laugh. “I absolutely detest it, actually. It’s not authentic at all, and the rice and beans are awful.”
“Why would you go there then?” The look on his face tells you that he thinks the concept is absolutely ridiculous.
You shrug your shoulders lightly as you make your way closer to his dining table, fingers running over the paper he has piled up, tracing lightly over the bumps. “David wanted to go there.”
Matt’s face returns to a look that is forcibly blank as he turns on the water and begins washing the dishes. “Does he know you don’t like it?”
“He was hoping I’d change my mind. He uh…didn’t always care too much about the places I liked going to.”
“Right,” he mutters, almost too quiet for you to hear as he begins scrubbing furiously. You find yourself almost feeling bad for the poor sponge. “That’s kind of him, always taking you to places he knows you don’t like.”
Your eyebrows raise at the borderline hostility towards a man who’s not even in the room. “It’s okay, Matt,” you say, watching the way his face has screwed up slightly in frustration. “It’s not a big deal.”
“You’d think your boyfriend would at least try to find places to go to that you both like, instead of just choosing what works for him.”
You don’t disagree with him, mostly because it was something you’d picked up early on with David anyway, but the sentence still makes you frown. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“You’ve been dating for a few months though, right?”
You open your mouth to respond.“Well yes–”
“Then even if you haven’t made things official, he still should make more of an effort to keep you in mind when making plans.”
“Matt–”
His voice has grown louder, and it’s almost alarming, the way he’s reacting right now. “It’s kind of inconsiderate, actually. He should–”
“I broke up with him.”
Matt freezes, every inch of him momentarily coming to a screeching halt, the dish towel still in his hands. He frowns, appearing extremely bewildered, and you don’t necessarily blame him, not with the words you let slip past your lips in an effort to stop his tangent. He looks briefly like the wind has been knocked out of his sails before he recovers. “Why would you do that?”
You shrug, observing him as he slowly places the dish towel on the counter. “It didn’t feel right with him.”
“It didn’t feel right with him?” He repeats almost flatly. You nod, biting your bottom lip. He takes a deep breath and leans back against the counter, fully facing you now. “Well, it’s…good you figured that out, right? No one deserves to be led on.”
“That’s right,” you whisper, and you’re almost taken aback by the sadness that flashes across his face.
Does he not–
He’s still frowning, his lips tugged down on the corners of his mouth. “Are you sure you’re okay? Shouldn’t you–”
“Matt,” you sigh as you take another few steps forward into the kitchen, effectively cutting him off. Matt looks like he can’t tell if he should stay still or bolt at the sudden movement. “I broke up with the guy I was seeing, and the only thing I’ve wanted to do was come here.”
He licks his lips nervously, and the motion draws your eyes to his mouth, a mouth you’ve thought about more times than you want to admit. “I’m…I’m not sure what to say to that.”
You smile sadly, quickly coming to the realization this isn’t the way you pictured this conversation going. “You don’t really need to say anything. I just…thought you should know.”
“But why did you think I should know?”
You shuffle your feet, and you know you’re quickly losing your nerve as your heart settles in your stomach, a heavy wrecking ball ready to destroy whatever you had come over here to say. “Because we’re friends. Right?”
Matt almost flinches, his body practically deflating in front of you. “Right. Friends. This is totally something you talk about with friends.” The man shudders in front of you and closes his eyes, head turning away from you. He’s silent, and the longer he doesn’t say anything, the more uneasy you get.
Had you…read this wrong?
Years of warm, flirty comments. Years of late night take out. Years of bright smiles and impromptu sleepovers when he’s too tired to leave your couch after you’ve patched him up. Years of random coffee meet-ups and hugs that lasted longer than they did with Karen and Foggy. Years of Saturday morning walks through Central Park and dry, sarcastic comments thrown at each other like confetti.
Years of feeling like something was always lurking beneath the surface, but never quite knowing, never quite believing what it was or could be.
You honestly don’t know why it’s taken you so long to get to this point in your life. Matt was a man you once upon a time had a crush on, before his apparent lack of interest forced you to shove those feelings aside. It was more than enough, you’ve told yourself over the years, to just be his friend, and so eventually, you dropped it.
Until one day…a side comment from Karen caught your ear and everything simply slid into place.
A side comment that suggested that just perhaps…he felt the same way, too.
But maybe, thinking back on it, Karen had been wrong. She was drunk when she slurred it to you three weeks ago at happy hour, so perhaps listening to her wasn’t the best idea. Maybe she saw something that wasn’t there. Maybe she simply hoped for her best friends to be happy, and made up a story in her head and nonchalantly passed it along to you.
You shift on your feet in mild distress, and take a small step back, unconsciously trying to separate yourself from the pain and panic that is suddenly rippling through you. You haven’t even really said anything to him about your feelings yet, and things are already crashing and burning around you. “I’m sorry that this kinda…came out of nowhere, I guess,” you laugh humorlessly.
His face snaps back to yours. “What came out of nowhere?”
“Just…nothing.” The words come out as a quiet sigh and your eyes drift over to the billboard that flashes outside his living room window, unable to look at him anymore. The display shifts through multiple colors on repeat, and while you’ve always been comforted by the light it offers Matt’s often dark apartment, today you feel like the cheery image on the screen is mocking you.
“No, tell me,” you hear him insist. His voice is laced with something you can’t quite put a finger on, but you shove it aside.
Running your hand through your hair, a bitter laugh makes its way out of your mouth. “Me, coming over here to tell you I’d broken things off with David. I thought…well I don’t know what I thought, actually.”
“You’re lying,” he accuses, and out of the corner of your eye, you watch him cross his arms across his chest. You know it’s a habit he has when he feels flustered or when he’s unconsciously trying to shut someone out, a barrier between someone else and whatever he’s feeling. The motion causes you to flinch.
You shrug your shoulders in an attempt to make your voice sound as blank as possible. “I’m really not.”
The man doesn’t let up, his voice growing louder with each word that comes out of his mouth. “You came over here to say something specific, didn’t you?”
Your eyes shift back to him. “No, I just–”
“Did you forget that I can tell when you’re lying?” Matt’s beginning to look borderline frustrated, and you wince at the way his voice has shifted. It’s rare that he uses that tone on you, usually reserving it for when he’s upset about a case he’s working on, or someone who’s stirring up trouble on the streets.
You shake your head, and you feel a traitorous flash of heat on your cheeks. This is embarrassing. Why did you think a man like this could possibly feel the same? “I’m not trying to lie, I just realized that maybe I was wrong about something and that I should probably just go home.”
You move to turn on your heel and leave the kitchen, but hands wrap themselves around your upper arms before you can move more than a few inches. He pulls you in further until you can almost feel the heat of him against you, and you shift your eyes back away from him, struggling to think with him so close.
“Don’t leave. I’m…I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on with you. You’re acting strange,” he says as he continues to hold your arms, though his hands are exceedingly gentle like always. You try to wiggle away, but he doesn’t let go.
“I’m fine, I think I’m just tired.”
He shakes his head, his face still a mix of upset and concern, his voice lowering to almost a growl. “Am I really going to have to pry it out of you?”
“Matt–”
“Just tell me.”
You blurt it out before you can stop yourself, the words tearing themselves out of your lips. “I came over here to tell you that I have feelings for you.”
He stills against you, his sightless eyes going wide, his mouth opening in shock. You hear his breath catch, no doubt surprised beyond belief. “What?”
You bow your head in something neighboring shame.
“Yeah,” you mumble under your breath. He’s silent, his face still a combination of frustration and surprise, and you decide his processing of the new information isn’t something you want to be around for. “I think I should go home.”
He seems to snap out of a haze, and his hands tighten around your arms when you try to pull away again. “You can’t just say something like that and then leave. I can tell there’s more that you want to say, so just say it.”
You’re suddenly exhausted, energy leaching from your pores. “You’re really not going to let this go, are you?”
“No,” is all he says, jaw tight, locked and ready to latch on to anything that might pour out of your mouth.
“Right,” you mutter under your breath. Your eyes drift away from him again, suddenly desperate to separate yourself from him as much as possible. “I think I’ve always felt this way. I, uh…it’s stupid really, but I–”
“Then why now?” He demands, though the tone isn’t as harsh as you would have suspected of someone who had just had their whole world rocked. “Why are you saying this now?”
Your eyes well at the question, and it takes every inch of you to not let a single tear fall, devastation beginning to settle in like an unwanted freeze in the middle of spring, unknowingly killing all the plants and flowers that have already been so lovingly attended to.
“Karen said something a few weeks ago, something about you maybe feeling the same way, and I knew I needed to at least try to say something. And I also knew that I couldn’t have anything going on with David if there was any chance that you had feelings for me, too.”
Head hung in misery, you try again to pull away as he still doesn’t say anything. “I hope…I hope that this hasn’t ruined anything between us. We can still be friends, right? This doesn’t have to change anything, if we don’t want it to. It’s seriously okay that you don’t feel the same–”
“I do.”
Every cell freezes in your body and your heart stutters to a stop. Your eyes lift to look at him, taking in the way he seems as equally as terrified as you felt when your own words ripped out of your head and into an actual confession. “What did you–”
He licks his lips again, but his face suddenly morphs into something more focused, something more sharp and heated and purposeful. “You heard me.”
“You feel–”
“Yes.” The way he’s still holding you suggests that he’s reluctant to pull away from you more than a centimeter. It’s shifted from something that merely kept you close to him because he didn’t want you to leave, to something that seems more intentional, more determined to keep you near for the sole sake of just holding you. “I feel the same way.”
“For how lo–”
His eyes land somewhere on your cheek. “A while. Years.”
Your heart thunders in your chest, the sound of it in your ears almost as deafening as standing next to a waterfall. “Why…why didn’t you ever say anything?” You ask quietly once you’ve caught your breath, your eyes flitting across his face as he suddenly reaches up to brush your hair behind your ear.
“I was not in a good place when we met,” he whispers, and you wince, because he was right. He hadn’t been. “It took me a while to put myself together, after everything that happened with Midland Circle and Elektra. And by the time I realized how I felt, by the time I felt like I could maybe be a person at least somewhat deserving of you, you had met Brad.”
Brad. An ex-boyfriend you had dated for about a year. Nice guy. Boring, but nice. He treated you well, at least, and you hadn’t necessarily been unhappy with him.
It’s just that…you had used him as a distraction from your feelings for Matt, if you were being honest with yourself. Not exactly a kind thing to do to someone you knew had genuine feelings towards you, but it worked enough that you were able to shove things aside and convince yourself you were over Matt.
As if I could ever be fully over Matt Murdock.
“I told myself you deserved to be with someone who was whole. Someone who could spend every evening with you. Someone who could invite you to dinner with his family, someone who could give you a stable, simple life. Things I knew I couldn’t give you.”
You frown at the words pouring out of his mouth. “But I…that was a few years ago, Matt. You could have said—”
He interrupts you gently with a calloused finger over your lips. “You’re right, I could have. But just because you weren’t seeing Brad anymore, didn’t mean I didn’t want those things for you. Even if you were single, I couldn’t bring myself to take those things away from you.”
“And…and if I didn’t care about all of those things, as long as I had you?”
He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “There are still some things I’m not sure that I can give you. Some things that–”
You open your mouth to object before he even finishes his sentence. “Those things don’t matter to me.”
He looks extremely pained as he finally releases your arms, and you mourn the loss of contact. He takes a small step back, and this time it’s you who chases him, your feet bringing you right in front of him again, unwilling to allow for any sort of distance. “You say that now, but–”
“We’ve been friends for years, Matt,” you tell him, denying him the chance to argue his way out of this. “If I didn’t want to be in your life, I would have left a long time ago.”
His smile is wry. “Friendships are different from relationships.”
“I know that,” you tell him honestly and without hesitation, because you do know that. “But it doesn’t change the fact that you’re a wonderful man who deserves happiness just as much as everyone else.”
His laugh is almost bitter. “I’m not so sure–”
“You don’t have to be, because I am.”
“You can’t possibly–”
You cut him off again. “You deserve all things that are good and wonderful and gentle. You deserve someone who is there for you, no matter what. You deserve love.”
He finally pauses, taking a breath that rapidly expands his chest before he lets it out, the air shuddering as it leaves his lips. His hand is shaking lightly, when it slowly reaches out to settle itself on your cheek. His eyes flutter shut, and he looks like he’s so hesitant, so afraid of whatever you’ll say in response to his next question. “And you…you want to be that person?”
Your answer is simple, and it requires no thought. It’s as if the words have spent the last few years laying dormant underneath your tongue. “I do, if you want me to be.”
He still looks extremely doubtful as he speaks, as if he’s nervous you’ll be scared off, or take the words back. You’ve come too far to ever let anything this man throws at you to chase you away.
“You understand that I can’t promise you all the things you might want?” He begins, eyes shutting again as he all but tears himself apart in front of you, exposing all the muscle and blood underneath his scarred flesh, and you watch as the dark of his eyelashes settle against his fair skin. “I can’t promise I’ll be home every night to fall asleep with you, I can’t promise I won’t try to push you away sometimes, I can’t promise that I’ll ever want kids, given the life I lead.”
You grab the hand that’s not resting on your cheek and place it directly over your heart, the muscle pounding underneath the flesh and bone that’s keeping you together despite your nerves. “I don’t care what our life looks like, as long as it's you next to me, every step of the way.”
He’s quiet for a moment, before his eyelids flutter open, letting his brown eyes fall where they may. “Are you sure, sweetheart?”
“Was I lying, Matt?”
You watch as he takes a deep breath, his head jerking side to side. “If this…” he trails off, head still tilted towards yours as he licks his lips. “If you’re…there’s still tons of things going through my mind right now, most of them not good, and I need to hear you say it. I won’t believe it until I hear you say it.”
You already know what he’s asking before he finishes speaking, and the words come to your lips without thought, without hesitation. “I love you.”
Despite all the fear and pain and panic that you’ve felt at the thought of him not feeling the same way for you, the three-word sentence is the easiest thing you’ve ever said to him in the years that you’ve been friends. It feels like the words were always meant to come out of your mouth, always meant to wrap him up in you until there’s no space left between your skin and his.
He sighs, and this time it sounds content, happy almost. He takes a small step towards you, eliminating most of the remaining distance between you, and lowers his forehead to yours.
The hand on your cheek lowers slightly so that he can run a calloused finger over your bottom lip. “Can I…can I kiss you?”
“Please.”
He uses both of his hands to cradle your face gently, keeping you locked into place as he presses his lips against yours, at first almost shyly, and then with more pressure. There’s not a single question or thought in your head as you respond, mouth opening under his, parting to allow him to pour all of his unspoken words into your body. Soft lips. Heated cheeks. Stubble rubbing your face. Firm body pressed against yours. Your own hands slide against his waist as you anchor yourself against him, and he takes the opportunity to press more fully against you.
The kiss, even while it remains soft, is as heated as the flush that is spreading through your skin like wildfire, your blood burning as it pushes through your veins.
Matt pulls away reluctantly, panting against you. “I love you, too,” he says quietly, reverently. “In case I didn’t make that clear.” It’s the first time you’ve ever believed a man when those words have been said to you, but maybe it’s because you’ve always been waiting for him to say them.
With a small smile, you bring his mouth back down to yours, eager to feel his lips pressed against yours again. His hands move from your face, one sliding into your hair, the other to your hip as if to steady him. He steps forward, pushing you into the counter behind you, before lifting you and placing you on top of it.
He spreads your legs immediately and steps in between them, still appearing desperate to press every inch of your body into his, as if he’s nervous you’ll slip through his fingers if he’s not holding you to him tightly enough. His entire torso is burning against you through his shirt and your own, and you can’t help but wonder if you’ll catch on fire the second his skin is on yours.
You feel him smile against your lips, and it doesn’t drop as he leans back and places another light kiss on your forehead. “It really took Karen saying something for you to realize that this could be…more?”
You snort, because of all things that could come out of his mouth after kissing you breathless, mentioning another woman was the last thing you could have imagined. “That woman could run the world with her hands tied behind her back if she wanted to.”
“I’m not going to disagree with you there,” he says with a laugh, gentle hand running through your hair again. “But was that seriously the tipping point?”
You blush and divert your eyes from his face. “I thought there was no way someone like you could ever feel that way about me, so I buried it,” you admit, hands fiddling with the fabric of his shirt. “And I guess it took Karen saying something offhandedly for me to realize I had never actually moved on. It took her pointing out that I just might have a chance. So…I’m sorry. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize.”
He shakes his head silently before pressing a brief kiss on your mouth. You lean in, but he pulls away with a small smile. “Don’t be sorry. Not for this. Maybe…maybe things had to go this way, you know? And we’re here now, aren’t we?”
Your voice is shaking when you reply. “We’re here now.”
“And I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers as he lowers his mouth back down to yours. You watch as his dark eyes land somewhere on your cheek, the gaze heated. “Things won’t be easy for us, but I promise that loving you will be the most important thing I’ve ever done in my life.”
a/n: I thought this up randomly and I’m kinda obsessed with the idea of someone doing this for Matt. I think it’d be really cute and I needed to write it out.
word count: 1.4k
You lay with Matt resting bonelessly between your thighs, your fingers thoughtlessly running through his hair, basking in the afterglow of your previous activities.
All was peacefully silent in his apartment, the only noise being both of your calming breaths. Though that was all you heard, you couldn’t even imagine the sounds and scents that must be filling Matt’s senses. You often wondered what it was like for him to live with such a thing.
You always took notice of Matt. When he would squeeze his eyes tightly because there was just too much noise going on around him, when he would stifle a gag because there were too many mixing scents, when he would shift on the bed because there were too many differing textures. There were a number of times where you had seen Matt simply overwhelmed by the world around him.
You always tried to help as best you could.
You hear Matt inhale deeply from where his head lay, his face cuddled against your neck. You feel him smile, his lips soft.
“I think I could find you from anywhere in Hell’s Kitchen,” Matt spoke randomly, the smile still on his face. Your bodies moved as you laughed lightly. The sound of your laughter bounced around the room as it intensified from Matt nipping at your throat playfully.
“That’s random,” you replied once your laughter ceased, mentioning the previous silence. You tried to angle your neck to get a look at his face but Matt kept himself tight against you. Matt’s hand drifted down to caress his knuckles along your bare torso. You noted the warmth in his touch and the rough texture of his hands. Your fingers moved through his hair as he subtly shook his head.
“Everyone has a different scent and it’s constantly changing. It can be overwhelming. But you… you smell the same. Always. It’s become imprinted in my memory, I am more sure of it than I am of most. And I think I could find your scent anywhere,” he admits softly as he curls further against you, his nose brushing against your skin. The weight of him on you was comforting. It was as grounding as your scent was to him.
“Does it help?” You ask, having always wondered if all your attempts were in vain or not. His lips now ghosting along your collarbone, his warm breath now igniting goosebumps along your arms.
“It helps a lot. It calms me down if I’m being honest,” he admits, planting a soft kiss on your sternum before snuggling back against your throat. You sigh in relief, your body relaxing more into the mattress. Your hands slip from his hair and sweep along his back, the muscles there shifting from your touch.
“Your scent brings me comfort too,” you say back, a smile forming on your lips as well. Matt hums and it vibrates through your body like an electric current. Even the littlest thing he did to you made you feel more alive than you remember ever feeling before.
“I think you do it on purpose,” he states, making your eyes shoot open from their closed and relaxed state. Your hands stop their movements and you feel Matt jerk with a short chuckle.
“What do you mean?” You ask, making your voice light and airy. But you knew Matt would sense your increased heartbeat. Even as you tried to breathe evenly, you knew you’d fail to conceal anything.
Matt shifts and your arms fall around his waist, your arms wrapped around him. He braces his forearms on the mattress and he lifts himself off you slightly and all just so you can witness the look he sends you, lips pursed and brow raised.
“Don’t play dumb, darling,” he says, the start of a grin twitching in the corner of his mouth. Your arms tighten around him, making his expression soften. You look over his features, not truly being able to believe this man was yours.
“I notice everything, Matty,” you start softly, a little embarrassed to be admitting this to him. “Everything about you. I know this gift you’ve been given can feel like a curse… but when you’re with me, I don’t want you to feel that way,” you express, finishing strong. A hand moves to cup his cheek and he immediately falls into it, his eyes closing as he accepts its comfort. His scruff tickles your hand but you enjoy the sensation.
“So how do you do it all?” He asks, eyes still closed. Your eyes catch how his eyelashes fall against his cheek and your heart flutters. Your chest feels tight, revealing this to him. You never did it so that he would acknowledge it as if you were doing something special. You only ever did it to make him more comfortable.
“I use the same scent for everything. Body wash and shampoo, perfume, and soap so the different smells don’t overwhelm you. And I match a lot of my outfits too so no matter if you’re holding my waist or my thigh, you’ll feel the similar textures of fabric. You know, stuff like that I guess…” you share, your voice trailing off, your eyes darting to look over his shoulder.
After a few long moments of silence, you gather enough courage to look back to his face. His eyes are now open and wide, darting around uncontrollably. His lips are parted as he inhales and exhales shaky breaths. He’s speechless. And you don’t know how to take that. Worry builds within you the longer it takes for him to reply which causes your chest to tighten and your brows to furrow deeply. Your hand falls back to his waist, unsure of his reaction.
Matt doesn’t speak first. First, he moves to balance on his elbows as his hands fall to your face, slowly tracing your features. He chuckles breathlessly as he smooths out the lines between your brows. He traces the shape of your face, your nose, your cheeks, your mouth, and your chin. His hands rest against your neck as his thumbs graze your jaw. You merely scan his features as you lay there silently, waiting for him to speak. You note the disbelief on his face and wonder what he’s thinking.
“I love you… so damn much. I- I can’t believe— you do— shit,” Matt whispers brokenly and a giant exhale follows from you. You smile widely, your hands coming up to grasp his shoulders tightly. You shrug a little, knowing he can feel it.
“What can I say? I kind of love you too,” you say followed by a few giggles of laughter. A large smile breaks out across Matt’s face as he laughs heartily.
“Kind of?” He asks incredulously, raising his voice to add effect. It forces out a few more laughs before you lean up and plant a soft kiss beneath his earlobe.
“Do what you did with your tongue again and I’ll lose the kind of,” you whisper in his ear. You feel a huff of laughter against your neck before you lean back to face him.
“Alright, I’m gonna kiss you now,” he says with a grin. You shake your head, a look of faux disapproval on your face.
“Not the tongue thing I was talking about,” you say, letting the look on your face shine through your tone as he leans in closer and closer to kiss you.
“Shut up,” he says through a small laugh before his lips mold against yours. You sigh into the kiss, letting both of you fall back against the bed.
His lips are soft against yours and his tongue is smooth as it glides across your own. His hands hold you firmly. You can feel the effect of your kiss on your thigh but it doesn’t disrupt the kiss and the calmness of it. You feel his warmth surround you, blocking out the rest of the world. In this brief moment, it’s only you and him and the senses between you. No one else’s.
You only break apart once the sting of pain in your lungs reminds you that you cannot kiss Matt forever, despite your own wishes. Matt continues to lean over you, nose brushing against your own.
“Not what I was hoping for… but not bad…” you say breathlessly and with a smile on your face. Your eyes focus on Matt to see his expression serious. His thumbs reach up to swipe back and forth across your cheek.
“You are my sanctuary,” he says lowly, taking his time to say them. Your heart melts as you can feel the intensity in the meaning of his words.
Summary: You grew up with Matt Murdock, always crushing hopelessly on him. But from the day you met Matt he never seemed to so much as tolerate you. Nearly 20 years later and your offices are across the hall from each other and it’s safe to say Matt considers the worst part of his day to be when he has to pass your office in the morning. He clearly hates you, so why does everyone think he has this uncharacteristic soft spot for you?
Warnings: angst, enemies to lovers, allusions to smut at the end, swearing, kissing, consumption of alcohol, being drunk, allusions to depression, not proofread.
Word Count: 3K
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Hopeless, that was a good way to describe your love life. It can’t get much worse than having a childhood crush that still finds you irksome well into your adulthood. This little crush of yours only got you teased as a kid, because really, who has a crush on the anti-social blind kid?
But now you’d pay for the teasing over the current situation, where your childhood crush has grown into a very attractive grown man, and everyone constantly reminds you of that fact.
“Matt looks so dreamy today.” Your coworker, Alyssa, said with a far-off look.
“How can you even tell with that split second glimpse you got of him walking into his office?” You grumbled, flipping over the top sheet of the pile of paper in front of you.
“I just know, okay? Anyways I could probably get a better look if you’d let me keep the door open more than a crack.” Alyssa snapped back, matching your grumpy energy.
“Leaving the door open more than a crack is inviting, and inviting means Matt will come in, and Matt coming in means he will be insolent towards me.” You said simply, looking up from your paperwork to eye her. But Alyssa just gave you a confused look.
“Insolent, meaning he’ll be rude, arrogant, and show his lack of respect towards me.” You elaborated, thinking she didn’t know the meaning of the word.
“I know what insolent means, thank you very much. But Matt has never been insolent towards you in the slightest.” She said, raising her eyebrows towards you.
“Please, he hasn’t been able to stand me since I met him at the orphanage in 7th grade.” You said fully setting down your work and dividing your full attention to this conversation now.
“Whatever lie helps you sleep at night.” Alyssa said, finally dropping the conversation after you had immersed yourself in it. You scoffed and went back to the task on hand, disregarding her thoughts.
The rest of your work day went on as per normal, calling and conversing with clients and filing paperwork until it was five o’clock. You were out the door sooner after the clock struck five, hailing a cab to a restaurant uptown where you were meeting a longtime friend of yours for dinner.
Your friend Leila had just moved back to the city after going back to college to get her masters degree, so you just had to meet up. She arrived at the restaurant shortly after you, immediately running over to hug you. “It’s been too long. How have you been?” you asked eagerly.
“Oh, we need to sit down for this.” she said with eyes that screamed ‘I have so much drama to tell you about’. Excited, you both sat down and talked through your entire meal. Leila didn’t even realize how long she had been talking until the waiter brought out the check, and her eyes widened with embarrassment. “Oh my god I’ve totally talked your ear off, please tell me something going on with you so I don’t feel as bad when I’m going home.”
“It’s not a problem, besides not much has changed with me. I’m still in that same tiny apartment, I’m still hopelessly single, and I still work at Atlas Investments.” you said in a relaxed tone, just glad you got to catch up with your friend and not caring to go over the details of your mundane life.
“Still admiring Matt from afar?” Leila asked, poking at your clasped hands in front of you, you pulled your hands apart and soothed them over your thighs at the topic. “It helps if I pretend I don’t have a crush on him like we’re still in 7th grade. Besides, he still hates me just as much as ever.” you said, pulling out your wallet to put your card down.
“Hates you?” Leila said in a questioning tone.
“Don’t take that tone with me, my coworker gave me that same tone with that same look you’re giving me when I told her why I don’t like interacting with Matt because he’s so insolent towards me.” you said, getting a little sick of no one else ever seeing how horrible Matt has always been towards you.
Leila just stared at you for a moment, as if trying to read your face for any sign that you might be joking. You just stared back at her, waiting for some reaction. Then she burst out laughing, a light and awkward laugh falling from your lips in response.
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh.” Leila said, pausing as one last breathless chuckle left her lips before she composed herself. “I just can’t believe after all this time you still don’t see it.”
You looked at her with furrowed eyebrows. “See what?”
“Matt’s behavior towards you! As long as I’ve known you both, he’s always had this uncharacteristic soft spot for you.” You stared back at Leila with this incredulous look on your face. “...what?”
“Jesus you’ve known each other nearly 20 years and you still haven't noticed? I guess that solves the answer to why you two haven’t fucked yet.” Leila said, also reaching in her wallet to put her card down as the waiter grabbed the bill; clearly trying to ignore your conversation. You shook your head, physically trying to erase the second part of her sentence from your head like an etch-a-sketch.
“Matt. . . he’s always hated me. Never wanted to be around me. I remember how red and furious he looked the day I moved into my office at Atlas right across from him.”
“Uh uh uh, that is not how that day went.” Leila said, mouthing a small thank you to the waiter who returned with the check and handing you your card back. “Thank you, and please elaborate.”
“Gladly. Matt was bright red and frustrated because when moving some boxes left behind into the hallway, you backed up into him without realizing it.”
“Okay. . . and?”
“...and your skirt was short because you moved in the middle of July, did you not see the massive boner Matt popped after that?”
“Boner? Please. That was the first time I saw him when moving in and realized we were work neighbors and upon realizing it was me is when he got all red, cut off the conversation super quick and locked himself inside his office. Probably because he was pissed to have to be around me constantly again.”
“So there’s not a chance in your head that your ass bumped his front, and once you made it clear that it was you, Matt was flustered because of his attraction towards you and shut himself off to hide that tent he was pitching?”
You rolled your eyes “Even if I did give Matt a boner, which I didn’t, guys get like 7 boners a day. So it was probably a fluke.”
“It’s actually 11, but besides the point. That’s not the only instance of Matt clearly having a thing for you.” Leila said informatively.
“Yeah sure, we could go on until this place closes going over the times where it was painfully obvious how much Matt can’t stand me and you could tell me how this is a textbook enemies to lovers story. But I’ll stick to my books, thank you very much.”
Leila let out a defeated sigh. “Let me just reiterate that if there’s one thing I’ve always noticed about Matt it’s his uncharacteristic soft spot for you. Just think about it for me, please?” she said with pleading eyes. “Yeah whatever, I’ll think about it when I’m getting drunk alone tonight at Josie’s.”
You and Leila both stood up and started to leave the restaurant after you made your promise to her, when hugging her goodbye she whispered in your ear “I’m so bringing up this conversation at your wedding during my maid of honor speech. You know, when you get married to Matt.”
“...and the moment is over. Taxi!” you said, pulling away from the hug and hailing a cab for Leila. “I’ll be manifesting it for you bestie.” she said with a smile, getting into the cab that pulled up. “Literally shut the fuck up.” she gave you a look as she closed the door and rolled down the window. “Love you too!” she said as she waved goodbye as the driver went on his way.
You took a sigh of relief, thankful that the conversation was over. But her words resonated in your head as you downed another shot hours later at Josie’s.
‘He’s always had this uncharacteristic soft spot for you.’
There’s just no way you’ve known Matt for this long and everyone but you has seen him be soft and affectionate towards you when all you got from his behavior was raw unfiltered hate. The longer you sat on that thought, the more queasy you felt. Or maybe that was because of the rapid influx of alcohol you were putting into your system. You haven't been this shit faced in awhile.
Before you could gather your scattered thoughts enough to stand up and go home, you heard an all too familiar laugh enter the bar. You looked towards the door and saw Matt and his law partner Foggy entering the bar, mentally trying to sober up but only feeling more nauseous at the sight of your childhood crush.
Of course Matt and his blind luck, he appeared in the empty space right next to you, ordering a round of drinks without seeming to notice your presence. You were relieved until you felt a sneeze coming on, trying to suppress it but failing. A few slipping from your lips, not quietly either. Matt gazed over in your direction and you could see your very drunk reflection in his red lenses, thank god he was blind and couldn’t see how horrible you looked right now. “Bless you.” Matt said politely.
“T-thank you” you said with a slight stutter.” Matt was still looking at you, his brows now downturned as he parted his lips before speaking up again. “Y/n?”
“Yes?” you said, a nervous feeling settling over the nausea in your gut.
“Oh, just seeing if it was you.” Matt said with a short tone. A silence falling between you two until Josie served him his drinks.
“Soft spot my ass. . .” you trailed off as Matt grabbed his drinks, assuming he wouldn/t hear you or just disregard your words. But he stopped and turned to you. “What?” You stared at yourself again in his red glasses and let out a frustrated sigh. “I just don’t get you Murdock.”
“You don’t get me?” Matt asked, setting the drinks he had back down.
“How-” you let out a high pitched hiccup “How do you fool everyone?”
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to be more specific than that sweetheart.”
“Oh drop the act, no one is around.”
Matt chuckled and stepped closer to you. “What act?”
“Acting like you don’t fucking hate me!” You said, raising your voice at him. Turning a few heads who were within earshot.
“Hate you?” Y/n I-”
“Oh please don’t stand there and try to deny it. Don't stand there and pretend you don’t get a sour taste in your mouth at the mention of my name, it’s always written across your stupid face. All my friends have this idea that you have this uncharacteristic soft spot for me but they must be drunker than me to think that you’ve ever even so much as tolerated me!” a few stray tears spilling from your eyes as emotion overcame you. Matt stood there speechless, you gave him less than a moment to speak up before grabbing your bag and getting down from the barstool you were seated at.
“You want to know what the worst part about falling in love with you was? Knowing that no matter what I did, you would never even like me. I am never going to be better to you than the dirt that you track in on the bottom of your shoes.” you spat bitterly, adjusting your purse on your shoulder as another hiccup slipped past your lips. “Let’s forget my drunken rant when we pass each other going to the office on Monday, yeah?”
You started to walk away, not able to hold back the tears any longer as you quicken your pace leaving the bar without even paying. “Y/n!” Matt called after you. “Goodnight Matthew.” you said, walking out the door and wobbling home. Looking at the time on your watch, disappointed with your state of being at only 9pm.
You were so embarrassed by your drunken outrage at Matt that you stayed in all weekend, no calls or texts from him or anyone else. Come Monday morning you felt like no one would care if you dropped off the face of the earth, so you stayed home and didn’t even bother to call off work. Sleeping in until noon and moping around all day after that. At least before Friday you and Matt had some semblance of a fucked-up friendship, you did grow up together after all.
It was now 6:30 at night and you sat in front of the TV watching friends while having a brownie and ice cream for dinner. The healthy voice in your head said you should call your therapist, and the toxic one said you should call Matt. Before you could listen to either voice, there was a knock at your door.
You initially intended to ignore it until the knock came again and a voice called out to you “Y/n? It’s Matt.” you immediately froze, standing up and tip-toeing to the door. “I really think we need to talk.” still not responding, you placed your hand on the door knob and began to turn it. Only as you started to open the door did you remember you’d been walking around in a hoodie and underwear all day. No bra, no pants. Thank god Matt was blind.
“Hi.” you said quietly as you fully opened the door, Matt letting himself right in. “Matt, now is not really a good time.”
“How long?” Matt turned to you and asked as you closed your front door behind him.
“What?” you asked as you turned to face him, little space left for you to distance yourself in the foyer of your apartment.
“”How long have you thought I hated you?” Matt asked in a demanding tone. You pressed your legs together anxiously, not in the mood for the conversation at hand. Opening the door again you spoke with an exhausted tone. “I am not having this conversation with you right now Matt, please leave.” but Matt startled you instead, bringing his hand up to the door and slamming it shut. Your brain didn't even have time to process how he could’ve done that, because now Matt was walking towards you until your back hit the wall.
“I asked you a question.” Matt said slowly.
“I. . . forever. I’ve thought you hated me since. . . forever.” you said softly, praying Matt wouldn’t get any closer and notice your missing garments.
“If I’ve hated you since forever, then why have I always wanted to do this?” Matt said in a tone barely above a whisper, leaning down as his breath fanned over your lips. But he stopped there, his lips mere centimeters from yours as if he was waiting for you to make the next move. You lost all resolve built up over the years as all you’ve ever wanted was right in front of you, a high pitched whine falling from your lips as you said “please” so quietly it was a miracle Matt heard you. Your eyes fell shut as a mere moment passed until Matt pressed his lips to yours.
Words can’t describe all the emotion that kiss conveyed, and yet that very kiss was a conversation you and Matt have been avoiding for decades. A conversation that said ‘I hate myself for ever letting you think for a second that I hated you.’ and ‘You have no idea how many times I’ve had this exact dream’. Apologies moved through your mouths, not even a word mumbled but all of it being understood. Both of you trying not to think about all the years lost by avoiding this kiss. A tear slipping down your cheek, Matt shifting his lips from your to your cheek, kissing it away. “I want to spend the rest of my life showing you how much I never hated you.” A soft smile grew on your face, that smile getting larger as you could feel something quite large growing against your bare hip.
“Then why don’t we start tonight?” You asked eagerly, hiking your leg up to allow Matt to press his growing bulge to your core. Matt chuckled in a primal way, leaning back down for a much more intense and passionate kiss.
It seemed Leila would be making that maid of honor speech after all.
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A/N
Whew! Hello everyone! I have a personal goal this year to post at least one story a month so thank god I got to go home from work early today to finish this and get it posted! I have been incredibly busy with my new job lately but I absolutely love it. I now work for MAC cosmetics, my dream cosmetic company. I’ve been there for about three months and it’s a dream come true, really. I am also only 30 followers away from one-fucking-thousand! That's absolutely insane and also terrifying. I will try to do a big sleepover when I hit that milestone and I have the time! In the meantime, thank you all for reading and hope everyone's new year is going well!
