#it was easier to take Matt's White Man Things
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Choice and Chance and Promise
Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem Reader
Word count: 7,300
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.”
“Promise?”
“Yes, sweetheart. I promise.”
#matt murdock#human disaster matt murdock#marvel#reader fanfiction#matt murdock fem!reader#daredevil x female reader#daredevil#daredevil x reader#daredevil x you#matt murdock x fem!reader#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock x you#matt murdock reader insert#matt murdock fanfiction#daredevil fanfiction
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I don't think you've ever gone into much detail on the relationships between Alfred and Zee/Jack. Does he care about them or is it more like an an adult sibling in their 30s suddenly having siblings that are in their teens? Nothing in common and generally don't really speak to each other or feel like they're really related at all. Just some other people that his father calls his children that he couldn't care less about?
It's really not very sibling but it's kind of distantly familial. But mostly they interact as friends. Zee has been very sceptical about Alfred pretty much from the get-go. She met him probably in the early Victorian Era and Alfred interpreted her clinging to Uncle Rhys as shyness, but she was low-key cranky and not having it. It's not that she doesn't like him, because she does. Alfred's impossible not to like especially when he's being genuine. But she's not sure she trusts him. He's ambitious and cunning in that bible salesman kind of way.
But he also has had some moments where he recognizes how Europe rejects both of them for being very obviously on the edge of European hegemony. They might ride a lot of human context of whiteness but empire is a very fucked up cosmopolitan thing so "neither you nor I are entirely European. We're western states but never going to completely European and there will always be a barrier there. Don't bother with them, I've already tried and pushed our limits." made for some surprising commonality with them. He's also had his head in her lap hallucinating and begging for Matt, death or Dad when he was low-key dying of malaria or dengue in the South Pacific. She also, perhaps ironically given their power differences, has given him the biggest fuck you anyone ever has by banning his ships from her ports while not only not escaping punishment but still entirely benefiting from the American security apparatus. He saves the majority of his emotional attachment for Matt but they can have a beer and go surfing without major incident. He certainly trusts her more than she trusts him but like it's just more solid than intimate.
Jack's relationship with Alfred is both more and less fraught. Mostly because of gender. Zee has it harder in a lot of ways being afab and feminine presenting most of the time but that's also made her less concerned about masculinity. Especially the sword clashing virility-as-nationalism they came of age in. The stolid, stoic, takes-his-lashes-silently ideal of British manhood that Jack does not suit. He looks at Arthur and he looks at Matt and he doesn't want to be them. His father's rage, Matthew's senseless martyrdom. He wants that respect, the warriors right to respect as it is. But he looks across the Pacific in the late 19th century and early 20th and Alfred is bright, forward-looking friendly and progressive. He has a navy. He has respect. He has a battle scars waged in the name of glamorous things like freedom and democracy and equality. That's an example of masculinity he likes. Alfred standing on the flag ship's prow, at the head of the Great White Fleet announcing him as the next great power kind of beat Jack over the head with a 'oh I'm a baby I need to grow up and get a navy and be a man and earn respect.' And he does pursue those goals and something of Alfred's version of great power projection. But its also not long before Alfred scares the shit out of him too. The costs of his father' ambitions have always been visible but when Alfred's are revealed to Jack they're shocking and frightening. He doesn't want to be his father and he doesn't want to be Alfred. But sometimes, the blunt imperialism of his father is a little easier to handle than the way Alfred operates as an empire of militant idealism. So while he and Alfred appear to get along very well on the surface, and work together very well while they're at it, there's very fundamental differences to who they are and that keeps them friends, not family.
#the ask box || probis pateo#im just publishing like 6 weeks of drafts lmaooo sorry#Pacific Siblings || freedom and fairness
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the minnesota wild as High School Musical characters
did I take this too seriously? yes. have I spent the last week thinking about this? also yes. anyway, the context: we were assigned the wildcats by a swede. @babygirlspurgeon kept tagging things with HSM lyrics. @wildaboutmnhockey created the masterpiece video of the mn wild set to getcha head in the game. so now here I am!!! this has been meticulously constructed with the help of my friend who doesn't know anything about the wild beyond what I tell her (shoutout to zoe for being balls to the wall no matter what I throw at her! who else will discuss the misc. cunt levels of the wild players with me). anyway to make this easier on ourselves we constructed a reality wherein High School Musical is being recreated on ice & instead of basketball in the plot it's hockey, so this is NOT about who's most like a character etc (though that ended up being a large part of it anyway whoops), but who could embody them best in a production of it. since the cast for HSM is not...particularly large, I was really getting down into the weeds with minor parts to fit (almost) the whole roster in here, so most everyone has their moment!!! anyway. and lastly. I am just saying that mounting this show during intermissions could maybe fix the nightmare this season has been & bring the team together. because they are. after all. all in this together.
tldr: this is basically a fancast of HSM using only the minnesota wild. I am not explaining myself any further
***
Troy Bolton // Matt Boldy
look. we really had to waffle between many options for Troy and this is where we ended up. my thoughts on matt boldy have been semi-well documented at this point, so mr. white bread bimbo feels like an organic option for this role. I feel like he can really serve us some mid-range semi-insensitive high school jock realness + angst without trying too hard. plus: I feel like he'll play off Shawzy as Gabriella really well.
Gabriella Montez // Mason Shaw
for as fucking annoying as Gabriella is at points, there's an earnest authenticity there that shawzy so easily embodies. his "let's play hockey" moment from playoffs 2023........he has the emotional RANGE and will murder When There Was Me and You in cold blood. plus, much like gabriella does for troy in HSM, mason will be able to coax that emotional performance from boldy as troy with his whole do-it-for-shawzy energy. what else can be said!!! the boys love him!! so don't worry, shawzy!! you soon will be soaring. flying. and breaking free.
Sharpay Evans // Marcus Foligno
marcus foligno the man that you are. he can and WILL serve the cunt necessary to be Sharpay. he will commit body and soul to bringing this role to life, though we may have to adjust the line "evaporate, tall person" to be more appropriate. anyway. I would give SO much in this life to see moose perform Bop to the Top. who will fund this with me.
Ryan Evans // Mats Zuccarello
known funky little man mats zuccarello does SO WELL as Ryan in my mind. his dancing has been well documented so you KNOW he's gonna absolutely kill the game with those jazz squares (it's a crowd favorite! everybody loves a good jazz square), plus his affable, everyman, team-first energy is exactly what the role of ryan demands. also: the idea of him as ryan and foligno as sharpay....chef's kiss.
Chad Danforth // Ryan Hartman
hartzy...hype man for the boys...put him a series of shirts with chirpy slogans on them for my enjoyment please!!! then make him walk around with sports props for the entire production. anyway, hartzy gives me the requisite jock bro energy necessary to pull off chad's role, as well as the bitchiness needed to essentially sabotage something that is making his best buddy troy happy. plus. I'm just SAYING. given chad and ryan's dynamic in HSM2. I am eyeing him and zuccy with anticipation.
Taylor McKessie // Joel Eriksson Ek
he's going the distance. he's going for speed. he's being cast as the tenacious captain of the scholastic decathlon team. mr. september is nothing but committed to his craft and this seriousness and dedication is EXACTLY what we need for taylor. that being said, our boy jeek is up for some shenanigans given the right situation, so will he manufacture a situation to rudely disrupt the decathlon & basketball finals? but of course!!
Kelsi Nielsen // Connor Dewar
who ELSE is going to bring enough weird girl energy to the table?? I feel like dewey 2 would take this SO seriously and the role of kelsi, while at times beyond fucking annoying, demands nothing but sincerity and dedication. he wouldn't be able to NOT take this seriously. this man has also stated that he would be a writer if not for hockey, so we can really get some method acting up in this bitch. essentially: put a bowler hat on that beast and watch him go.
Ms. Darbus // Marc-Andre Fleury
this role had to be rotated in my mind a lot before settling on a casting choice. I mean, goalies are weird, and I feel like flower would bring jussssst enough bizarro energy that would perfectly drive a middle-aged thespian who, for some reason, allowed a high school student to write and mount a musical that seems to make little to no sense. maybe it's all part of a large prank. who knows.
Coach Bolton // Jake Middleton
I can't pretend this is anything other than typecasting, I'm so sorry. I can't look at middsy without being reminded of the dad from Inside Out, plus "the mustache is saying pushing 50" according to my friend. I can also perfectly envision middsy yelling WHAT ARE THOSE TWO DOING IN A TREE with great dedication, so. assigned dilf at HSM casting
Lucille Bolton // Jared Spurgeon
does spurge deserve a larger role? maybe. possibly. probably. but look: once we cast middsy as troy's dad, spurgeon was quick to follow as troy's mom. who are we to fight the natural sexual chemistry of these two? anyway. assigned milf at HSM casting
Jason Cross // Brandon Duhaime
typecast as dumb jock from a team of jocks. what does that say about you, mr. duhaime??? anyway, dewey 1 is really going to deliver on the clueless but loyal bro vibes here. as a bonus. a very IMPORTANT bonus. I have to note that at the end of All in this Together jason is the one to remove kelsi's bowler hat and help her shoot a basket in a VERY flirtatious manner. and I AM all about putting the deweys in that situation, so help me god.
Zeke Baylor // Frédérick Gaudreau
he IS a sweetheart!!!!! a sweetheart!!!!! someday you WILL make the perfect crème brûlée, freddy!!! & your boys will love you for it!!!!
Martha Cox // Brock Faber
the glasses are giving nerd. and then THIS is giving pop and lock and jam and break.
Skater Who Plays the Cello // Jon Merrill
do I need to explain this one????? c'mon. he's so believable as a skater kid and ALSO as someone who plays the cello. the duality of man is contained in jonny "vibes" merrill.
(tbc)
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Never Quite Enough
Part 3
Part 1 // Part 2
Warnings: Angst, heartbreak, overhearing mean comments, kissing.
"I wish I never met him." You say to the ginger cat.
Butter meows in response.
"Yeah, I think I'd rather he never came up to me at all. Then I could live in ignorance."
You think for a moment, wiggling your index finger under one of his pink paws, hissing when his claws extend to catch at your skin.
"I think not knowing what his laughter tasted like would have been easier." You continue, even though your furry friend doesn't say a word.
You swallow, listening to the jingle of his collar as he rolls over.
"He really is a terrible man."
Butter agrees.
.
You look at the e-mail with a little frown. You can hear sounds of excitement as everyone reads it. There's a garden brunch on Saturday, and you marvel at all the mixers and parties Billy allows in order to keep morale high. It seems to be working, and you think there are probably so many people loyal to the company because of it. This time, you notice that plus ones are invited, and there's a special prize as well.
You sigh, glancing at the antique ring on your finger.
It takes Dex all of one minute before he's at your desk.
"Are you gonna bring Matt?"
You blink at the audacity.
"I'll have to ask." You murmur, looking up at him.
Dex nods, you watch his curly hair bounce in thought.
"I hope he comes. It'll put some rumours to rest."
You almost hate to ask.
"What rumours?"
He steps around the table to stand by your side.
"You didn't hear it from me, but Stacy in Marketing thinks you made him up- but when I heard I stood up for you- but also I don't know who else she's told."
Fucking Stacy.
"Look," you say with a shake of your head, "I'll try to bring him, but if he can't come then there's nothing I can do."
Dex nods, "Yeah I totally get it, Fuck Stacy."
You smile, surprised that his thoughts were in line with yours.
You talk for a few more minutes before he's pulled away.
.
Not many people had known you'd been dating Billy in the first place. It had been mostly the people working around him that had any idea. You'd bent over backwards to make sure no one in your department knew, but Stacy had once found you kissing Billy in the broom closet on the third floor and you knew she knew more than she was supposed to. Billy had asked her not to say anything, yet it just seemed like she was working overtime on a loophole to expose your past relationship.
You wonder why she was so intent on saying all these bad things about you- was she jealous? Or just angry? She probably still thought you and Billy were together, perhaps attempting to spin a story that you'd slept your way to the top, but she couldn't say anything directly, knowing that it would be traced back to her.
It barely mattered to you anyway, until your boss asked casually if you would be bringing Matt to the brunch, and you knew that Stacy's storytelling had gotten to him as well.
You had to take a moment to tell yourself that despite the toxic work environment, this job had many perks to benefit from. You'd struggle to find a good dental plan elsewhere.
.
Butter meows in protest as you knock on your upstairs neighbour's door. He'd torn a paper bag to shreds in your bedroom when you'd found him, and hadn't appreciated being taken from his throne of scraps.
You hear footsteps at the door and then a pause.
"Hello?" A deep voice calls.
You smile at the peephole embedded into the door.
"I believe you're missing an inmate?" You say casually, jingling the little bell on Butter's collar.
Your mouth drops open when he opens the door.
Hot.
Steaming.
He's wearing a plain white t-shirt and boxers.
"So you're his co-parent, hmm?" He asks.
"Yeah," you say, introducing yourself to him.
He smiles, widens his door a little, as something of an invitation.
"I'm Matt." He says in greeting, and you resist the urge to tell him that you know. "Want to come in?"
You probably should have said no, but something about Matt just puts you at ease, disarms you into relaxing around him. The next thing you know, you're putting Butter down on the floor of Matt's living room.
"I hope he hasn't been too much trouble. Honestly I'm glad he's letting someone with proper eyes look him over." Matt says.
You look up at him in confusion.
"You... don't have proper eyes?" You ask slowly, unsure if he's joking or not.
Matt laughs and waves his hands in front of his face.
"I'm like ninety-five percent blind." He informs you.
"Oh, sorry... I didn't know." You mumble, feeling a little awkward, hoping you haven't offended him in any way.
"It's fine, I get by, and Butter chirps if to let me know if I'm about to sit on him."
That gets a laugh out of you, that you cut short when you realise your laugh sounds horrendous.
Matt's smiling along and it hits you with a sense of familiarity, a sweet smile from a man you think wouldn't mind what you have to say.
"So, I did something terrible." You blurt, blinking in horror at your lack of filter.
"Did you?" Matt asks with a tilt of his head.
You nod, taking a seat on his couch with a sigh.
"I was constantly being bothered at work, hit on, you know- asked on dates so I lied."
Matt comes around to sit on the opposite end of the couch. Butter jumps right into his lap. He adjusts the cat accordingly.
"I told everyone I had a boyfriend, and when it wasn't enough... I- I bought a ring." You raise your hand to show him before realising that he can't see it and dropping your hand in embarrassment.
"And now you're asking me to be your pretend boyfriend?"
You raise your head at him in surprise. He gives you a warm smile and you gulp, feeling your heart speed up.
"How did you know?" You ask.
"I mean, it's maybe a little obvious? Just the way you started your story and I kinda figured where this was going." He leans back, "Plus there are a ton of movies about the exact thing."
You smile.
"I know we just met, but there's a party on Saturday, and I'd be honoured if I could introduce you as my fiance, so that everyone would stop bothering me."
Matt nods, his deft fingers roaming in Butter's fur. The cat in question smacks at Matt's hand after a few moments.
"You know we'll have to act like a couple right? Maybe kiss a little?"
"That's okay, I'm not uncomfortable with it. I just-" You let out a slow sigh.
"I just want people to leave me alone."
He nods in understanding, a smile on his face.
"What's the dress code?"
.
"It's perfect." Billy says, admiring the crown of wildflowers.
"Are you sure? There are opinions of peonies and roses available, the wildflowers aren't as... sophisticated."
Billy wasn't going for sophisticated. Billy wanted rustic, untamed, wild and ethereal and you'd look amazing wearing it. Then everyone would see, everyone would appreciate you.
"It's perfect." He repeats to the florist, not taking his eyes from the thistle, trying to imagine it sitting on your head, the smile you'd give him that would spear his heart.
When she leaves, Frank steps in a few minutes later.
"She RSVPED with a plus one." Frank says in greeting.
It's the first time Billy tears his eyes from the crown. His chest burns for a second.
"You're serious?" Billy asks, watching Frank nod.
"She's got someone."
"There's no way." Billy hisses vehemently, walking around to his desk to sit.
"Stop being in denial. This is happening." Frank says calmly.
Billy's forehead thumps against his desk. A moment of silence before he speaks again.
"I just want her back so bad. I don't think I'll be able to look at her with someone else."
Frank puts a firm hand on his shoulder.
"You need to tell her everything, but also let her make her own choices."
Billy's head is still pressed to the table as he nods his head, he tries to understand, but deep down he knows that seeing you with someone else is going to rip him apart.
.
Matt definitely looks better than you do. You smile at him and you try not to acknowledge that they're already going to like him more than they like you.
When he asks for your guidance to the uber, you gladly link your arms in his.
"This isn't too fast for you?" You ask curiously, "I mean, we just met and I'm going to introduce you as my soon-to-be husband?"
Matt has the decency to look shy when he smiles, and for the first time in a while, your heart gives a solid kick.
"It is really fast," Matt agrees, "but honestly, I could never resist someone in need of help."
Your heart swells, you open the taxi door, smiling at the driver, confirming the address.
"And," he adds in, leaning into you a little and you catch hints of his cologne, "honestly, I maybe owe you for being so nice to Butter. He isn't... well... he isn't known for his sweetness."
A smile pulls on your lips thinking about the rambunctious feline.
"He is a troublemaker." You agree in passing and Matt grins.
"Where did you get him?"
When Matt's smile falters, you try to backtrack.
"You don't have to tell me if you don't-"
"-It's fine, it's okay, it's an innocent question." Matt interrupts, one of his warm hands covering yours.
"Butter belonged to my ex. When we broke up, it was really hard, and she left him behind so I wouldn't have to be alone."
"She sounds amazing." You whisper.
"She was, but I couldn't give her what she wanted, and she was smart to leave."
You frown, reaching up to squeeze his shoulder. You wish you could say something to comfort him, but you can't, you can't lie and tell him it gets better when you're actively avoiding your emotions, wishing you didn't ever exist because you didn't want to feel ever again. Thankfully, the reassuring squeeze is enough in the moment.
.
"I don't mean to point out the flaws in your plan, but we never even came up with a backstory." Matt says, standing on the sidewalk near the venue.
You break into laughter.
"Oh Matt," you say with an affectionate tone, "No one's going to ask me any questions. Nobody likes me." You feel your chest squeeze.
Matt frowns at you, but keeps walking.
"I'm sure that's not true." He says.
"It is, but anyway, we met a month ago, we hit it off, and now we're dating, don't mention the engagement unless someone asks. If you're not sure about an answer, squeeze my hand. And just," You bump your shoulders against his, "keep it light."
You paint a smile on your face as you enter the building. An usher guides you out back to the prettiest garden party you've ever seen.
The tables are filled with gorgeous flowers, only accentuated with white tablecloths, to bring out the colours. There are butterflies everywhere, attracted by the sweet nectar-filled flowers. Your breath catches on the ropes of wisteria hanging from above.
"Describe it to me." Matt says beside you, and you look at him with a smile.
"It's gorgeous," you say, "something out of a fairytale, there are flowers everywhere, every colour and shape. And so many butterflies, the blue morpho and the green hairstreak and the clouded yellow and-" You pause, realising you've shared a bit too much about yourself.
"You know a lot about butterflies." Matt murmurs, your eyes squeeze shut.
"Yeah, sorry, I get distracted." You say on a rushed breath.
"No, it's okay, I'd like to hear about them, they sound beautiful."
You swallow, glad you don't have to fake a smile for him.
"I'm actually a little thirsty. Are you?"
Matt accepts the conversation change, extending his elbow to you.
"Lead the way."
.
Even the drinks have flowers in them. A sprig of lavender in your prosecco, and a yellow viola in Matt's whiskey. The bartender is happy to let you know that all the flowers in the food and drink are edible, but you already know that.
"I didn't have a chance to ask before, but what are you wearing?" Matt asks.
A little laugh escapes your throat, and then a larger one when he raises his eyebrows in question.
"Sorry, its not a question that's usually asked without an innuendo." You explain, "I'm wearing a pink dress."
Matt smiles, "Floor length?"
"Yeah, and there's a slit on one leg."
"That sounds beautiful, I bet you look breathtaking." He says to you.
Your smile falls.
"Thank you." You murmur to him.
"You don't believe me?"
No, you respond internally, but you're spared from answering when someone says your name.
Dex happily approaches, and you smile at him.
He takes you into a hug, that makes you a little confused since this is the first time he's ever displayed that level of affection toward you.
"This must be Matt!" Dex says and you smile.
You introduce both men, and it's very easy and casual, you listen to the conversation, learning all the details you can about Matt, considering that you didn't really know him at all.
Your mistake is letting your eyes wander, admiring the decor, watching a white butterfly touch your shoulder on its way to a purple coneflower.
It's how you find him. Dressed in a white shirt, his broad back to you as he talks to someone. He looks busy, and there's a warm tug in your stomach as you momentarily forget his crimes. You could blame it on the atmosphere, one that's too serene for the incredible heartbreak you're in. But you forget, and when he turns, scans the room, meets your eyes and gives you a little smile, you feel inclined to give him a little smile back.
Until he looks beside you, and his smile drops.
He's got to be a really incredible actor, for you to be able to witness what you can only describe as heartbreak in his eyes, lasting only a moment before a stoic expression takes its place.
Somehow, you manage to feel sorry for him, when you know you shouldn't. You think that time has made you softer to his betrayal in some way, a thought that sparks anger.
You look away from him, back to Matt, quietly reminding yourself of Billy's bad deeds.
Your entire relationship had been fake. When he'd held you tight after sex, it hadn't been real, when he'd tugged you into a random closet at work, palming at your ass, telling you that he couldn't go another second without you. That had been fake too.
Matt squeezes your hand as Dex excuses himself to greet other people. You look up at him with a smile.
"Are you okay?" Matt asks.
"Yeah, you're doing good." You reply.
"Of course I am, I make a good fake boyfriend."
That makes you laugh.
"Well I think Dex is probably the one person that would ask the most amount of questions, so I think we're safe for now."
Matt grins.
"Want another drink?"
"Sure." You say, heading back to the little bar.
.
Billy can only watch you together with him and hate himself.
It's the first time he's seeing you genuinely laugh since the break up, and though you're laughing with that guy, you're still laughing and he likes that.
His chest is filled with this mixture of happiness and agony. Happy to see you smile, even if it doesn't really meet your eyes, and pain that you're not smiling at him.
What Billy wouldn't give to have you smile at him.
It's why he did all of this after all. He'd memorised all the flowers you'd told him you liked, from that time you shyly showed him your cottagecore Pinterest board, and he'd tried to get as much of them as possible. He knew you liked butterflies too, after he'd heard you gushing about them to Andrew- which was how the bet had started in the first place. It hadn't been easy to bring in that many butterflies, but he'd done it, because every time you smiled at one, his heart would skip a beat.
He wanted you back so badly it hurt. He was determined to not let you go.
He'd do anything for your smile.
.
When you start to feel hungry, there's a lovely table serving an array of bite sized foods, beautifully crafted and delicious, it's odd, that there are so many things you like, in beautiful styles that accentuate the theme of the party.
The food spans a large range, from savoury crab cakes and meatballs to sweet minuscule cheesecakes. Even the vegan options are amazing and you enjoy sampling everything willingly.
Matt is delightful, asking you what he's stabbed his little fork into before he places it into his mouth and you get to appreciate him deep in thought while he assesses all the flavours.
"Thank you for coming with me." You say to him softly, bumping his shoulder.
He smiles.
"I'm happy to. Honestly, I haven't done anything like this since- well... you know..."
You wanted to ask what he meant by 'this', but you think you'd wait till the end of the day to make any kind of corrections on Matt's assumptions.
"It's honestly pretty lame when you're alone." You confess to him, looking around and remembering a time you weren't quite so alone in places like these. Too bad it was fake.
You blink, sighing with the weight of your pain.
"Can I confess something to you?" Matt asks, and you nod, raising your head to look up at him.
When he only waits expectantly, you realise your mistake.
"Oh, um, yeah."
He grins.
"You nodded, didn't you."
"Yes." You say shyly.
"Don't fret, happens all the time. Anyway-" he steps in closer, and your eyes widen. His hand moves over your shoulder so that he hugs you from the side.
"I have a superpower." He whispers to you.
You gulp.
"Oh?"
He nods.
"Losing my sight made my hearing really really good."
"...Right." you say, confused.
"It means I can pick up on things that you're trying to hide. Something else happened, didn't it?"
"What- what makes you say that?" You whisper to him.
"Because there's a man standing across the room facing us, and he's really pissed."
You don't look immediately. You blink at Matt for a long moment.
"How do you know he's pissed?" You ask.
"Heavy breathing. Racing heart. His fists are clenched."
"You can hear his fists clenching?" You ask in disbelief.
"Why don't you take a look and tell me." He challenges.
You do it casually, turning and pretending you're really looking for something in the room and when your eyes meet Billy's- he glances away.
"I can't see his hands, they're in his pockets." You murmur, and Matt hums in acceptance.
"Is he an old boyfriend?" He asks.
You turn back to him in surprise.
"You got all that from his heartbeat and his fists?" You ask, amazed.
"Not just him. You too."
Your shoulders sag in realisation.
"Oh. Yeah. We broke up a couple of weeks ago." You mumble looking down at the ground.
Matt pulls you in closer, his hand slipping down your shoulder and cupping your hip gently. The sensation is a little uncomfortable, especially since you barely know him.
"Is that the real reason you asked me here? To make him jealous?"
Your frown deepens.
"Jealous? N-no he doesn't even like me. I really just needed help with my coworkers and you've done that so well."
Matt seems to think for a long moment. Gradually, you grow used to his touch.
"So why do you think he's pissed?" He asks you.
You ponder for a moment, wondering how much to tell him. An orange monarch flutters by. You fight the urge to look back at Billy.
"I think he's mad because he's trying to get me back to prove a point. To prove that he can."
Matt doesn't respond, and when you open your mouth to ask a question, you're distracted by a little crowd gathering. A woman steps up, her voice is gentle and commanding. You think she's one of the newer media managers, and she looks delighted to announce that there's a prize to be won.
You have a little epiphany when you see the flower crown. It's something right out of your daydreams, you remember cooing in delight when you first saw something like it in a movie you were both watching. You were tucked into his side, your bare legs intertwined with his.
"I love flower crowns so much." You'd said, admiring each actress wearing one. Billy had hummed, deep in thought, and you didn't think he'd remembered a detail so minuscule.
"The flowers on those don't look like anything special. Wouldn't roses be prettier?" He'd asked.
You'd simply told him no, that the flowers were beautiful because they were basic. A seemingly pretty item turned beautiful with just a bit more care and attention. Something you'd always wished about yourself. That you could be an ordinary thing made more beautiful by the things around you.
You hold your breath when you meet his eyes, unable to do both with the raw emotion inside you. Across the room, he's looking right back at you. The ache takes a second to hit you.
Do you really see me? You wonder, or was this just another game?
"Oh wow, it's really pretty, like in that movie! The weird one... with the cult." Someone says.
Midsommar.
It had become one of your favourite movies.
"The horror?" Another person asks, "With that girl from that other thing?"
Yes. Midsommar, you think, inching forward to look at the crown. Matt moves curiously with you, but you're not really paying attention to him as much.
"I can't remember the name of the movie. What was it again?" The first person continues speaking.
It's Midsommar. It's Midsommar. It's Midsommar.
"It's Midsommar." He says, and you swallow because he's right beside you now, and when he turns to glance at you, and you feel your stomach flip, everything makes sense.
It had been designed all for you.
The flowers, the butterflies, the food, the drink, even the crown...
Billy had thrown this entire event for you.
It's bittersweet. There's a warmth in your heart and a pang in your throat and you love it but you're in pain and you're barely aware that Billy is introducing himself to Matt.
"Hey, Billy Russo, Anvil CEO." He says extending a hand.
"Matt Murdock. Attorney." Matt responds, not extending his hand in return.
There's an awkward moment of silence before you lean in toward Matt.
"He's got a hand out for you to shake." You whisper and Matt makes a sound of realisation, reaching for Billy's hand.
"Apologies, I keep forgetting that without my stick, I look like I can see."
You try not to laugh and fail a little.
When Billy asks what Matt's relationship to you is, you feel your heart jump into your throat. Which was ridiculous. It's not like Billy liked you anyway.
"Matt's my boyfriend." You answer for Matt, knowing that Billy would see through your engagement story. It had only been around three weeks since you'd ended things with him. Saying that Matt was your fiance would raise too many flags.
Billy's eyes move to yours. A pained expression flits across his face before his features settle into a stony mask.
He nods, leaning away from you.
"Well, I hope you two have a nice time. Nice meeting you Matt."
Matt doesn't get a chance to respond before Billy turns and walks away.
"Well now I know for a fact that he likes you." Matt confesses when you're out of earshot of anyone else.
"How so?" You say softly to him, too deep in your head, concern for Billy eating at you.
"Everytime he looks at you. His heart races."
You look at Matt. You really look at him.
"It can't be true. He broke my heart." You murmur in that same soft voice.
Matt doesn't try to protest, a comforting hand on your shoulder.
"Come on, let's go for a walk in the little maze people keep talking about."
.
Billy's hands shake as he walks away from you.
A boyfriend? So soon? Billy was still trying to get his feet back under him after losing you and you'd taken the time to find a boyfriend?
He was probably just a rebound. Someone you could use to take your mind off of him, but the thought of you getting over him was sour through and through.
He tosses back two whiskeys before he can focus.
It felt like shattering. Like being consumed from the inside out. There was you, and there was someone beside you that wasn't him and in the time it takes Frank to find him, Billy begs any god listening for a second chance.
Frank's hand slaps down affectionately on Billy's shoulder.
"How are we doing?" Frank's asks.
Billy takes a third drink.
"I'm an asshole." He responds.
"You got that right." Frank agrees.
"I didn't think she would- I just want to-" Billy sighs in frustration, frowning when he can't get the words out.
"Sometimes there's a voice inside of me calling me to do bad things. The first time I heard that voice shut up was when I was with her."
Frank takes a sip of his drink.
"I hear that brother," he sympathises, "the war never really leaves us, right?"
"...right." Billy agrees.
"Don't give up just yet. The plan might be a little longer, but it's a good plan. Castles don't quit."
Billy's mouth curves up. He was a Castle too.
"Thanks Frank. That means a lot."
He gives Billy a reassuring nod.
.
"What a fucking douchebag." Is Matt's first response when you explain Billy's betrayal.
You laugh, loudly, before catching yourself and smothering the sound.
"Yeah." You say, voice laced with humour, "It is what it is."
"Okay, but, you're not annoying. Like, at all." Matt argues.
"Thanks." You say, believing that he only thinks like that because you've been holding back on him, fighting the urge to ramble at every opportunity.
The walls of the maze are a little high above your head and you giggle when you get to a crossroads and you turn one way and Matt turns the other way.
"Come on. Let's go this way."
You don't even bother to think about it.
"Okay, sure."
He leads you down a dead end, to a statue of Aphrodite, standing behind a white marble bench.
"How did you know this was here?" You ask, amazed.
"There's something here? I have no idea." Matt responds.
"It's a white statue of Aphrodite, standing on a seashell, her hair is flowing. It's a popular one."
When you get close enough, you guide one of Matt's hands to her knee, so that he has an idea of the texture.
"You're familiar with Greek gods too?"
You look down with a little bit of shame in your expression.
"Yeah..."
"Don't be shy about it, it's really cool. What do you know about her?"
You look up at her, and you give Matt a quick summary of her violent origins. Born from the sea foam of her father's decapitated testicles.
"Ouch." Matt sympathises.
You grin at him, bumping his shoulder with yours playfully.
"Someone's coming." Matt says, turning his head to listen. You go quiet too, you think you can barely hear what he hears.
"Stacy, I think her name is... and a few more people."
"Fucking Stacy." You whisper to yourself.
Matt grins.
"You don't like her?"
"She started the rumour that you were fake in the first place."
Matt hums in thought.
"Wanna give them something to talk about?"
You smile at him.
When the group stumbles upon the two of you, they find Matt's arms wrapped securely around you, kissing you breathless.
You break apart at the first gasp you hear and you smile, apologising to the group, before tugging at Matt and pulling him past.
You're both laughing wildly as you escape the maze. You suck in air, quickly let out on staccato breaths and you only pause when you turn your head to realise how public the space you're in really is.
Your lips don't tingle, not like the first time they did when you kissed- him, but you still find that you're willing to do it again, because Matt's a very very good kisser.
"Sorry if it was bad for you." You say to him, worried that kissing you, like everything else about you, was unpleasant.
"Are you kidding? You were amazing." Matt's expression sobers.
"Did someone tell you that you were bad at it? Because they'd be insane."
"No, no, no," you say quickly, "I'm just... making sure."
He grins, leans forward, kissing your cheek gently.
"I'd do that all day if you'd let me." Matt whispers seductively in your ear, and your mouth drops open in shock and arousal.
"Oh, you are trouble, Matthew Murdock." You say, taking his hand and heading back to the bar with him.
.
It's hard to pretend you don't notice... but you catch some people talking about you. It's subtle, and it's not a lot of people, but it's the way they glance at you every now and then that gives it away.
You try to ignore it, you realise you hate the way it feels, wishing you hadn't been caught kissing Matt in the first place.
Your shoulders drop. You hated this feeling. You look up again and make eye contact with one of them. They look away, laughing.
Maybe you really should quit.
Between this and Billy- you really begin to debate how necessary your job is.
You look down at your feet.
Why weren't you made to be someone better? Why did you have to be this way?
You sip your drink forlornly, only raising your head when the caged ball begins to spin. You look up, watching the little papers inside the ball toss and tumble as it turns, curious to see which name would be chosen.
Matt, who'd been busy taking a call, returns to your side as the ball stops rolling.
"Sorry about that." He says to you, and you turn your head to look at him, smiling.
"It's okay, you didn't miss anything." You say on a hushed breath.
"I missed you." He responds easily, and you grin at him, not hearing the first time your name is called.
You turn your head in surprise as your name is called again. Marissa, who you'd learned was the new media consultant, looks around the room expectantly.
"I think you just won." Matt says, a firm hand on the small of your back pushing you forward and your mouth drops open in surprise.
You take a hesitant step, and then people begin applauding for you when they catch sight.
The lights at the front are bright, and they dazzle you when you get closer, weaving through the small crowd of people to approach a smiling Marissa.
You swallow when she ushers you toward an expectant Billy.
Had he planned this?
You can't help the excitement that simmers inside of you when he reaches for the leafy crown. It's gorgeous and it's going on your head and for the first time in a long while, you let your excitement show on your face.
You don't look at him when he places it on your head, but when it's finally there, you build up the courage to meet his eye. You can't help the genuinely happy smile that spreads on your face. He gives you a pleased look in return.
The crown prickles your scalp as you tilt your head a little, accommodating for the weight of it. He leans forward until his face is beside yours, you resist the urge to make a sound as his cheek brushes yours, his beard rubbing harmlessly against your face.
"You're beautiful." He says softly, and you close your eyes tight for a second, squeezing both hands into fists for a moment, unable to process all your feelings about this.
Thankfully, you're in public, and everyone is watching you, which means Billy doesn't have a chance to say anything else, and you can smile gracefully and step away from him without any excuse.
.
It hurts to watch you walk away.
You're a vision with the crown of flowers on your head and your dress flowing around you and you remind him of some goddess he once read about that was so beautiful that a dark being fell in love with her and he thinks he feels the same because he wants to beg on his knees for just a second more in your presence.
He'd do it so easily that it scares him. He's never knelt for another soul willingly but he would for you because he knows you.
The knowing is the worst part.
The sound of your laughter on his lips and your quiet gasps in his ear and the way he made you wriggle in the morning with ticklish kisses to all your most sensitive spots and Billy knows too much.
He knows what Matt tastes when he kisses you next, when you return to his side and Billy watches him slowly lean in to place a firm kiss on your lips. The way he felt when your lips were on his is seared into his head except that he's forgetting how it actually felt and there's something inside Billy that's cracking from the pain.
It's unlike anything he's ever felt before, like being set on fire, or breaking every bone in his body, maybe those things would hurt less than this.
You laugh at something Matt says when he pulls back, but it doesn't meet your eyes. Billy watches you take his hands and help him feel around the crown of flowers, and you both smile together.
He doesn't realise that everyone has already dissipated back into their casual conversations until Frank squeezes his shoulder.
"You're staring." Frank says.
"I love her." Billy murmurs, half in realisation, half in fear.
Frank squeezes his shoulder in sympathy, unable to say anything.
.
When Matt stiffens during your little ramble of the flowers on your head, you pause.
You watch him turn his head in the direction of Billy and Frank conversing across the room and you frown.
"Am I talking too much?" You ask in a small voice.
He turns his head back to you quickly.
"Not at all, sorry I just got a little distracted for a moment there. You were saying?"
"The um... purple ones are daisies... they're little and have a yellow centre."
"Sounds very pretty." Matt hums.
You smile, a real one, and you feel the happiness wash over you.
"They are very pretty I'm so excited." You confess.
Matt smiles along with you.
"I can tell, I bet you look beautiful. I'm sure you do."
You swallow, a little smile tilting on your face. He looks so unbelievably genuine when he says it, you have to glance away to collect your feelings.
The rest of the evening is good, so many people give you compliments on your look and you feel like your face hurts from all the smiling you've done. There are some butterflies attracted to the flowers in your crown and you're happy to allow the company hired photographer to take a few shots of you alone, and then of you and Matt and Dex and some other coworkers.
You try your hardest not to ramble on about the flowers or the butterflies, keeping your answers short and you think that it's what probably makes people like you a little bit more.
It doesn't last, and you should have known better.
You're in the corridor outside the bathroom when you hear it. A small group of people around the corner from where you are, talking.
"I heard her going on about the different flowers on the crown to her fiance. I feel so sorry that the poor guy had to go through that." One voice says, and the words make you freeze. It was clearly about you.
"I know right! Does she ever shut up?" You hear someone else speak, and you begin to back away in shame.
"He's lucky he's blind because I wouldn't want to-"
You can't listen to any more, turning on your heel and immediately stopping short when you catch Billy standing behind you.
You know he's heard what they said, same as you, standing too close to the corner to pretend you haven't heard that it's you they're making fun of, their voices loud, echoing down the hall.
His eyes are dark, and filled with denial on your behalf. He gives a little shake of his head.
It's not true, he seems to say.
Your heart screams in your chest, and you don't say a word, you keep your face calm, walking around him and heading down the corridor, back the way you came.
You dart into the first empty room you can find, a room with various pieces of art settled on the walls and a white bench in the middle for viewing. You take in a deep breath, and you let out a big sigh, felling every ounce of happiness drain out of you completely. You wonder about all the annoying things you've done and said to deserve those comments. You should have just kept to yourself. You shouldn't have left the safety of your apartment at all.
You fight the tears, numb from the pain, and aching for a release that you're not ready to give.
.
It's where he finds you, sitting on a little marble bench in the middle of the room. Your back is to him as he steps forward. Billy thinks hard about what he's going to say. He thinks simply about the revenge he's going to get on your behalf
.
You hated being you. Nothing would change that. You should have learned by not that people would never like you for you.
"None of that was true." He says behind you, and you let out another long sigh, your shoulders drop at his words.
You don't say anything, reaching up to take the stupid crown off your head and look at the little leaves and wildflowers woven in.
Billy sits in the spot beside you.
"Do you hear me? Nothing about you is even remotely annoying."
You swallow the lump in your throat. What a load of bullshit he was serving you.
You raise your head, blinking back tears. You should have known you couldn't be happy for long.
"I love hearing you talk about the things you like. You get so happy and I love seeing you happy because it makes me happy too." Billy continues, even though you haven't spoken.
"Stop." You whisper with a shaky voice.
"You can hate me how much you want. I won't have you believe lies. Those fuckers are just jealous of you."
"Jealous of what, Billy? My dumb sense of humour? My weird, niche interests? My ugly laugh?" You stop talking to take deep breaths. Trying to push the sorrowful feeling away.
"None of that is-"
"It doesn't matter." You say with a shake of your head, cutting him off.
Your breath catches when he slides in closer. Your leg is pressed to his, your shoulder to his, you look up at him in surprise as a tear spills down your face.
He reaches for the handkerchief in his breast pocket, dabbing the plum material over your cheek to soak up the tear without pulling any of your makeup off.
"You are gorgeous, and smart and witty and sure, maybe your sense of humour isn't for everyone, but no one's humour is. But I think you're funny, and I love the way you smile, and I think people are jealous of you because you've got that light inside you that makes to stand out in a room even when you're not trying." Billy says.
You don't look at him, because he's looking at you, and you're afraid to look into his eyes because you're afraid of what you might find... and what you may not.
You give a shake of your head.
"I'm nothing special." You murmur, moving to give him the flower crown, placing it onto his lap.
You watch his hands pick up the crown.
"You are the most special person. I'd spend the rest of my life proving that to you if I have to."
He raises the crown, and gently, sets it back on your head.
You finally look up to meet his warm eyes. Your heart stutters in your chest. His words couldn't be true, they couldn't be anything more than a game.
He cups your cheek, leaning in.
You wonder if this could be a part of the bet. If it is, you think you're okay with letting it happen.
You close your eyes as his nose brushes yours, his face slants a little to allow his lips to meet yours.
It's only one kiss, but it stretches for lifetimes and you wouldn't have it any other way. His hand is still on your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin in soothing movements, you feel your body relax, your mind clears. Kissing him pushes away the bad thoughts, it makes you feel whole, and for a moment, it's just you and him in frozen time, being reminded of how amazing being with him was.
Before-
You break the kiss slowly, looking away from him, feeling lighter than you have in days.
"Why did you do that?" You whisper, too afraid that your voice will break whatever link you have to him- however fragile it might already be.
"Because I wanted to." He says lowly, as if he understands the delicate nature of things.
You swallow, standing up on shaky legs, wobbling a little as your feet protest the distance from him.
"I should go." You say, turning away, never meeting his eye as you walk out the door.
You don't see the way his shoulders drop.
.
.
.
#billy russo#billy russo x reader#billy russo x female reader#my writings#the punisher#the angst#billy russo imagine#billy russo x you#billy russo x y/n#billy russo fanfic#billy russo fanfiction
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AEW Wrestlers Pregnancy Headcannons
Summary: AEW Wrestlers (Ft. Zack Sabre Jr and Nic Nemeth) reactions to finding out you are pregnant
Wrestlers mentioned: Kenny Omega, Nick Jackson, Matt Jackson, Jay White, Zack Sabre Jr, Nic Nemeth and Samoa Joe
Part 1 Part 2 Main Masterlist
Kenny Omega
It wasn't a secret that Kenny didn't want kids
He didn't even want a long term relationship as he claimed he wanted to be 100% focused on wrestling.
That was until he met you, he was instanly headover heels in love with you. Yet his opinion on children never changed
When you found out you were pregnant you were terrfied
You didn't know how Kenny would react to the news.
When you told him he broke out in tears.
Deep down inside he always wanted to be a dad
Kenny would not leave you side during your whole pregnancy
He would talk to your growing bump and fall asleep listing to the baby's heart beat
Kenny is such a girl dad, he would be the best father
Of course his daughter would come out with Kenny's gorgous curls
Nick Jackson
When Nick found out you were pregnant he was in pure shock
The two of you always wanted children but it never seemed to work out
When you unexpectedly found out when you were pregnant you coudn't wait to tell Nick, knowing how happy he would be
Nick would be all over you during your pregnancy
He would'nt let you lift a finger, he would take such good care of you. He's such a sweetheart!
He would be a great father
Matt Jackson
When Matt thought you were messing with him when you told him you were pregant. He thought you were playing a joke, although there was a bit of fear in his eyes.
Not because you were pregnant but because you were just pregnant a few months ago. He was more confused on how you were already pregnant again.
Matt would definitely keep you locked away at home constany pregnant. I know he only has two kids but I know he definitely wanted like six.
He would show you off, he was so proud of creating a life with you
He would deffinitly brag about how he got you pregnant
Jay White
You stood looking at the pregnancy test in shock
You couldn't believe you were pregant, you were so young
Jay had just taken over bullet club, this was no time to be having a child
Jay had to find out the hard way that you were pregant because you thought it would be easier to hide it from him
When you confessed you were pregnant he was shocked on why you were so upset about it.
He thought it was a great thing that you were pregnant
Although young Jay (Jay without the beard) was not the best father he sure did try his best.
He loved playing with his son, the two of them were best friends and looked identical
You practically cloned your boyfriend
Zack Sabre Jr
When Zack found out you were pregnant he was confused, almost like he wasn't sure how the two of you could have possibly made a baby when he damm well knew how you made a baby.
Zack would be the paranoid dad
He would read every parenting book to make sure he was doind everything right
He would love that child to death and protect the hell out of them
At times it was like Zack was also pregnant because he swore he was getting your pregnancy symtoms
He would get you whatever you were craving at whatever time
Sometimes he would judge your weird food combinations
Zack is the dad who would be holding three cameras all at diffrent angles to get the perfect shot of your kids christmas concert
He would play with your kid for hours outside and whever you went out it was like he was preparing for a zombie apocalypse
The man carried everyting needed to preform open heart sugery on him at all times, it was almost concerining
Nic Nemeth
Nic always wanted to be a father but he accepted early on it just simply wasn't going to happen
Relationships just never seemed to work out for him, that was until he ran into you one day. And I mean ran into you. Nic had physically run into you at a show one day.
From the moment he saw you he fell in love, you were the girl of his dreams and he knew he couldn't mess this relationship up
For once Nic felt like thing would work out for him
When you told him you were pregnant it was the best day of his life
He coudn't wait to be a father! The thought of being a older dad never bothred Nic, he was just happy he could finally do the one thing he wanted most
He would build you a beautiful nursary and love that child so much
Samoa Joe
You just know Joe would be a massive teddy bear
He would take such good care of you and your baby
If someone even dared to look in your direction he would go into attack mode, he was exteemly overprotective in the best way possible
Joe would cater to your every need, going to get everything you were craving. Even if it was in the middle of the night.
Joe would be sympathetic during your pregnancy
He would probbaly eat all of your cravings with you so you didn't feel alone
He would confort you during all of your emotional outbirsts and show you so much love
This man's love language is acts of service and physical touch to you know he won't let you lift a finger during your pregnancy
#bullet clubs bitch#all elite wrestling#aew smut#aew#aew fanfiction#kenny omega#kenny omega imagine#kenny omega fanfiction#kenny omega x reader#kenny omega oneshot#matt jackson smut#matt jackson oneshot#matt jackson imagine#matt jackson#nick jackson imagine#nick jackson x reader#matt jackson x reader#nick jackson oneshot#nick jackson fanfiction#matt jackson fic#jay white imagine#jay white x reader#jay white smut#jay white one shot#jay white fanfic#jay white fanfiction#jay white#zack sabre jr fic#zack sabre jr imagine#zack sabre jr x reader
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ER on Christmas
pairing: Matt Murdock x GN!Reader
warnings: None!
word count: 774
notes:
I don't know any medical terms, so if any doctor things I wrote sound terrible, I'm genuinely sorry.
I also wrote this in 2021 but I thought I’d bring it back and post it here
originally posted on Wattpad
It was Christmas Eve, and of course, you had the night shift in the emergency room; you hated working holiday shifts because every time you did the only people who were to come in were drunks who got into fights and people with cooking burns.
So far, it was a slow night with some drunks here and there and no cooking burns; people must be eating out instead of cooking.
You were admiring the Christmas tree the hospital set up in the waiting room when two men came in; one had an arm slung over the others shoulder while his other hand held a guide cane, "Foggy, I'm fine." the one with the cane said as they arrived at the check-in desk. "Matt, you're not okay. I found you on the floor of your apartment-" The man supposedly named Foggy whispered yelled as you cut him off. "Hello, how may I help you two today?" you asked them. "Yeah, hi, I uh was wondering if you could give my friend Matt here a check-up. He uh-" "Fell. I fell in the apartment and he thinks I got hurt." Matt said, cutting Foggy off. "Okay, follow me, and I'll make you sure you didn't bruise or sprain anything," you say to Matt, offering a soft smile to his friend, who looked angry but also nervous for his friend.
Matt denied the wheelchair you offered him, so Foggy helped him make his way to an exam room because he could not put his weight onto one of his legs; Matt sat down on the table "okay, um, ill be right outside, okay, Matt." Foggy said as he left the room, leaving you and Matt, "Okay, can you take your shirt off so I can check to make sure nothing happened to your shoulders and ribs." You requested, "Alright." He said, unbuttoning his white button-up, revealing his upper body.
As you were checking his shoulders for and sprains, you decided to make conversation with him so it'd be less awkward than just examing this poor man in silence, "So Matt, you got a last name?" You asked, moving your hands down more near his collarbone. "Murdock." He answered, not paying any mind to your desperate act of trying to make conversation because he didn't even want to be there in the emergency room at almost midnight on Christmas eve. "Alrighty, Matt Murdock I’m going to exam your ribs now, okay," "You're wasting your time; I'm fine." He uttered, and you sighed, "Listen, I know you don't want to be here, but your friend out there thinks you might've hurt yourself, so let me just finish up examing your ribs, and I'll let you go and just tell your friend you need pain killers and rest, okay?" You said continuing with the exam, and he didn't reply.
After a couple of seconds, Matt spoke up, "You know what, I never did get your name." He asked, "Y/N, my name is Y/N," you answered. "So Y/N, do you have any plans for Christmas?" "Nope, no plans. What about you?" You asked, moving your focus to his other side. "I have no plans either." He replied.
You were happy, to say the least, that he started talking to you, but your happiness soon faded when you touched a specific spot on his side, Matt flinched at the pain and you could tell something was wrong. "Matt, were you punched?" You asked, "Uh, yeah. I sorta got mugged; they probably thought I was an easier target because I'm blind." he responded, "Matt, you should've told me this earlier." you sighed, "I hoped you at least showed them whos boss." you joked, and Matt laughed "I managed to get a few hits in."
"Alright, Matt, you can put your shirt back on; you're not seriously hurt. You have a bruised side; I'm recommending you take ibuprofen and put ice on the area to relieve pain, and do not wrap anything tight around your ribs while they are healing." You recommended as Matt rebuttoned his shirt.
As you were about to leave the room, Matt spoke up, "Oh Y/N, if you're still not doing anything tomorrow for Christmas, would you like to come with me to dinner at the Panna II Garden in the East Village around six?" he asked, "Sure, I'd love to." you responded to him as you left the room.
Maybe working the night shift on Christmas eve wasn't such a bad thing.
#ao3#fanfic#masterlist#matt murdock#daredevil#matthew murdock#x reader#matt murdock x you#matt murdock x reader#x gn reader#y/n
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Foreigner's God: Chapter 3
Main Masterlist
Pairing: Matt Murdock x OFC
Chapter Summary: Life has been continuously throwing curveballs at Eliza, so it’s no surprise that she forgot about the party in honor of the Sokovia Accords that is planned to set place that very night. With Tony’s unusually hostile behavior, Eliza should’ve known that the night was bound to end in disaster. She just didn’t think it would happen like this.
Warnings: Vivid flashback at the beginning, official announcement of the age gap (about 11 years), Karen being suspicious (and executing it badly), language, mentions of mental illness, and use of the word 'sex' more than once, a lot of foreshadowing and fluff!
Word Count: 20k
Reader Chapter 3: I Think He Knows here on AO3!
“Beware, this is the age of miracles.”
She couldn’t remember when exactly everything began. She figured it must’ve been somewhere around her fifth or sixth birthday - no matter how she twisted or turned the pictures of what she could remember, there was no telling what timeline the events fell into. The day she woke up in the secluded room in a place she couldn’t recognize was unknown. Only a handful of people remembered the exact order of events, and they were either dead, exiled, or refused to talk now.
She judged by the little things she could remember, which wasn’t nearly enough to quell the thirst for information. She distantly remembered that the doctors celebrated her change of age. However, the most excited had been the man in the black suit. They didn’t celebrate her birthday for the same reason that small-town families celebrate birthday parties, it was more an act of acknowledgment of her “coming of age”. Subjecting the children to the horrors too young in life meant they would’ve died too soon. Hardly anyone passed the first stage. Most of them died after the first series of injections and those who miraculously survived the torture didn’t make it off the table when the second phase rolled around. So the doctors and the man in the black suit chose to wait until one day, their most promising candidate reached an age with which they felt comfortable.
Life before the White Room was a blur. The gaping holes should’ve been filled with childhood memories, instead, they were hollow. The things she did remember were absolutely cruel, horrendous pictures she wished she could just delete from the hard drive and never have to think about ever again. Though the demons always came to haunt her at night and sometimes, when the day was just as cruel, the pictures chased her twenty-four hours without taking a break. Her feet hurt from running.
If our memory worked like a computer, life would be so much easier. I believe it was Sigmund Freud who researched the human conscience and the hidden subconscious. He put a name on the phenomenon of preventing what’s unacceptable to the conscious mind to push all the way to the front lines. Repression , he called it. Not just the mentally ill use it as a defensive mechanism to prevent the stress of anxiety, even the psyche of the average person is capable of doing it.
Most importantly though, repression is a response to trauma.
If we could reboot our brains and build a new conscience from scratch in which trauma and pain don’t have a place, at least half of the world’s population would be much happier, but we weren’t made to forget the things that shape us as people in the first place.
The human brain is and always has been an enigma. A Rubix cube without a solution, IKEA furniture without a manual – it’s too complicated. The answers we are looking for don’t exist. Not even psychologists like Sigmund Freud or Carl Jung managed to explain the depths of the human mind without holes in their theories and just like the endless sea that’s still mostly undiscovered, chances are that we will never truly reach the bottom of the glass without drowning first.
They called it the White Room for the most basic of reasons. All the rooms in the building (she believed it was a building) were set out with white walls, sterile and smelling of disinfectants. Neon lights in the ceiling, no windows, only artificial boxes set into the wall in hopes of faking natural sunlight - the children there were ghastly pale, lacking vitamin D, but with the chemicals pumped into their veins, it hardly mattered what nutritions the body lacked and what not.
The room she grew up in only had a small sink and a bed. Bathrooms were on the outside, use only allowed when asked. She remembered it, one of the few things prominent in her mind. The years of captivity and the lack of change of scenery caused the outlay of the White Room to be branded into her brain.
When the authorities traced the building back to her and burned it down, she asked to see the pictures of the remains. Even reduced to ashes, she could see the room she grew up in vividly clearly. They burned the house of horrors down, but they could never burn her memories.
The treatment started slowly. Ankles and wrists were tied to an apparatus, a mix of an operating table and a gurney. They placed leather belts around her limbs and torso. She was strapped in so tightly, that movement posed as useless.
“Miracles are born here. It’s time the world sees the truth. And we’re only getting started.”
Two metal sensors stuck to either side of her skull. Needles supplied her veins with liquid that kept circulating through an apparatus next to her. The gurney stood in a secluded circle in the middle of the room, glass walls shielding the outside from her tiny body. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t escape the restraints. They were stronger than leather, stronger than steel. The flesh on her wrists was sore from all the pulling, and her body and soul exhausted. She was trapped like a deer in headlights, with the only difference being that she wasn’t standing on an open road - she was trapped in a cage while everyone else stood around the glass, just watching her.
He was tall, the man in the black suit. Always grinning, always smiling. He told her, “We’re gonna make you better.” He told her, “Don’t be afraid, it’s all gonna be over soon.”
She begged him to stop, but he always shushed her. He lowered the gurney and disappeared behind the glass with everyone else. His voice sounded over the speakers connected to the microphone. “This is for your protection,” he said. Somehow, she didn’t believe him.
The first time it happened, she screamed until her lungs gave out. The pain was excruciating. Her entire body boiled with jolts of electricity. The liquid in her veins mixed with something heavier, something toxic. The sensation was like a sneeze, building up slowly and then bursting at the seams. Only the size of the explosion was much bigger. Every cell in her body seemed to deteriorate, pushing power against the foreign charge. Her mind fought the intrusion with all it had to give. The room vibrated, and objects clattered against the glass. Fast-flying projectiles came in from all directions.
The pain tore her apart from the inside. Vessels, muscles, and skin. She broke, then fell back together again. Cells exploded and regenerated all at once.
The first few times, she passed out. The power surges weakened her heart. Every time she thought she saw the light, so close to touching it, the shocks returned. Her heart restarted. Her nails on the inside of her palms went stiff, digging deeper, deeper, deeper until all she could feel was the hot trail of blood. She was sure the floor was colored dark red from all the fluid she lost.
As the jolts came though, not only did her body convulse, her mind twisted too. Pictures flashed before her eyes. She saw faces that seemed familiar, tied to happy memories, but she couldn’t put a finger on them. She reached for them, reached for something to get her out of this hell, but just as she was about to wrap her small hands around the pictures, the pictures ripped apart. Lightning struck her brain. The memories burst like glass bubbles. Faces disappeared into melted skin and bones. A bonfire in the middle of nothingness. Everything burned to ashes. Instead, she heard the strange man’s voice. She heard him call for her. She heard children screaming. She heard orders shouted in all kinds of languages. The world shook. She was vibrating.
“You’re mine,” the voice repeated. “You belong to us. You live for us. You breathe for us. We own you.”
Subject number 666. No name, just a number.
Tiny needles penetrated the frontal lobe. They dug deep into the flesh, searching for something. They dove for something lodged far away in the brain's fear center – the amygdala.
The pain became unbearable. She convulsed on the chair, but the shackles kept her in place. She felt like flying. The world collapsed on her. She drowned in smoke and ashes. Instead of air, she breathed blood.
The needles finally pinched home. The red in her veins took the energy like a child to their mother. It transformed the pain into something stronger. She was overwhelmed by the sense of control that took over her entire being. Her fingers sizzled with life. She was burning again, but this time she allowed herself to feel the fire, and she used it to her advantage.
“Do it,” the man said.
She couldn’t open her eyes. The world around her was flaming red. Her hands dug into a floor of burning sand. It didn’t hurt her. If anything, she found herself able to dance with it. The smoke danced around her, the world hers. With the power of worlds, she could do anything. She danced with the smoke, the devil’s tango, and she was the queen. She was stronger than heaven and hell. The wasteland was her world. She stood high amid nothingness and it had never felt better .
“She’s not going to survive,” someone said. The voice echoed in the sand.
“She will.”
“You know how many children died, sir. If we do this and she dies… she’s the last one in line.”
“She can bare it,” he sounded so convinced. Perhaps she could. He was always right.
The needle hit a point in her brain that sent her senses into overdrive. The world lay at her feet. She carried it, though never letting it crush her underneath its weight. She felt the sand, felt the air, felt the smoke – she suddenly felt every little thing. The air was knocked out of her lungs.
She fell to the sand. Her heart was beating louder and louder, faster and faster. The light spun around her in circles, glowing ciphers. Pain formed a ball in her chest – no, this wasn’t a sickness inside of her internal organs; it was no parasite eating away at her, no tumor making her hallucinate this unspoken power. She stared straight into the depths of her soul and she could see it all so clearly. The people around her, their fear, their pain, their anger. What they felt, she could see, she could feel and she could control it. Without trying, she knew she held the reins to the horse that was the weight of the world. The emotions, the pain, and the suffering. It was all in her hands. The stories that came with the scars on the human soul, the subjective reality they lived in; she saw everything so goddamn clearly. She was the eye, the see-it-all.
She was born to serve, born to destroy, born to bend all souls to her will and make the world crumble at the root of her existence.
Before her, the red, slimy substance danced to the beat of her heart. Her hand reached out, eyes still closed. As it belonged to her, the substance slithered its way toward the girl on the ground.
The scream broke out, a lion from his cage. Her body fell back, on her knees, chest wide open. The slug entered in a stormy wave, breaking through her bones until it hit the back of her soul. She inhaled everything left to give. Red filled her veins, her bones. She came back to her body, something she had been so scared of, so dissociated from – she found the one thing that had been missing.
The world stopped shaking then.
She felt him smile. “I told you,” he said. “She’s the strongest of them all.”
“What did you do to me?” she asked quietly. She couldn’t comprehend the view of the red smoke dancing around her fingers.
He turned to the microphone, his smile wide and the insanity at home in his eyes. “You died,” he spoke to her, mesmerized. So many different feelings, so much pain. She flinched at the baggage the sole sound of his voice loaded onto her chest.
“You died.” There it was again. “But you lived.”
As far as explanations went, this one made the least sense.
She stared through the glass. Her head tilted. The urge to break through it, to tear the people behind apart piece by piece, and to feel the power again seemed to drive her. Her soul burned with the purpose of domination. She wanted to feel them, drain them and make them dance like smoke to the rules of her mind.
The ball hit the cage, but it didn’t crack. Red smoke shot through the room. The glass never once budged. She huffed, angry, and tried again, stronger. She tried to wrap the cord around one of the men. She searched for a leak. Why? Simply because she could.
Finally, his veins glowed red. She saw herself in his helpless eyes as the man in the black suit watched from a distance. They made her. They owned her. The others didn’t matter, she had been told many times before. They didn’t stop her when she grabbed the poor man’s soul through the shield. She felt every ounce of him.
Emotions are complex, she realized just when her head began to pound. So many colors at once. The pictures flashed fast, fresh and old memories coupled with the pain and the happiness she could pull with her fingers. She wanted him to burn the way she burned. She wanted him to match the pain that made her out to be who she was. She wanted them to suffer because she suffered plenty. She wanted to do whatever she wanted, and so she did.
He reached for his tightening throat, eyes wide.
The old doctor stared at the scene before him. “Do something!” he said.
“No,” the man in the black suit smirked back. “Let her do what she needs.”
“Oh, Lord. This is-”
“Incredible. You really outdid yourself this time, Joseph.”
“But sir, she’s killing one of our men.”
“So let her have her fun, doctor. This man’s death is a heroic sacrifice. This right here is reason enough to celebrate that we just opened the doors to making history.”
She savored the feeling. It tasted oh so sweet. Never had she felt more in control than the moment she took his life.
“Hm, very impressive, my child.” She saw the pride in his eyes through the now milky glass, stained by the condensation of her hot breath against the cold cage.
She gritted her teeth. “What did you do to me?” she repeated the question.
He chuckled at the useless anger she transmitted. “Oh, my child,” he said. “I didn’t do anything. You were simply born again.”
Eliza shot up on the kitchen floor. The tiles underneath her gleamed with cold sweat. She shivered. The temperature of her skin spiked, but her blood ran cold. She was freezing.
The sun was already out and shining through the windows. The oven clock read 7:23. If she remembered correctly, her alarm was set for eight.
She lifted her aching body off the floor. Every muscle protested. She downed two glasses of water to still the dry ache in her throat.
The nightmares came and went. Often, she couldn’t even remember what she saw before she woke up. It had been a while since a dream this graphic continued for as long as it did. Eliza was losing her grip on reality. Sanity slipped through her fingers like water through a sieve.
While she stood in the shower, she had to remind herself she wasn’t alone. Tony was an asshole, yes, and he didn’t believe her, but she wasn’t alone. She barely knew the masked vigilante, but Daredevil trusted her and in a way, they were connected. An invisible string tied their hearts together.
As an Avenger, missions were easily explained by the obvious. Aliens, robots, super villains – these things were certain. This new life, however, was in no way the same.
Eliza didn’t know how the story would continue or how it would end. She didn’t expect the world to turn so drastically because, in her mind, the world had already stopped. She expected a lot of things – she expected Tony to lose it, Natasha and the others to be caught, and she even expected a world-altering event that would eventually bring them together just so they could all die together in the end, but Hydra was never on the schedule.
The uncertainty was slowly killing her. Even as she tried to tell herself that some things just cannot be expected, she knew she was lying to herself. She was naked in the wrath of Hydra as they got ready to destroy everyone in their wake.
Yet none of those things brought the unlikely duo anywhere near figuring out the truth - if it was even true or just a nightmare, or a stupid trick that was played on Eliza to drive her crazy. And the fact that she wasn’t smart enough or strong enough to manage this like she was taught to do made the hate and self-doubt bubble up inside of her like a geyser.
She looked at her face in the mirror. The dark circles under her eyes were impossible to cover. Even with concealer, she could’ve passed as the zombie bride. “What happened to us?” she asked herself.
We grew up.
If this was what adulthood looked like, she didn’t want it.
At exactly 8:30 there was a knock on her door.
“Happy!” she said.
“Good morning!” he eyed her carefully. “You alright?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” she smiled. “I’m almost done. Come on in.”
“How was your night?” He took a suspicious look around, but nothing seemed out of place.
“It was good, yeah.” She’s always been an excellent liar.
Happy stood helpless in the apartment. “I brought coffee,” and he handed her the cup.
“Is that what I think it is?” Eliza grinned.
The panic in his eyes began to spread. “A- a normal cappuccino with two sugars?” he said.
She inhaled the roast. “Hmm,” she agreed, “perfect.”
He tried to look mean, but he still cracked up in the end. “We’ve got a lot of work to do today,” he told her on the way to the black limousine parked out front.
“Yeah, like what?”
“What, did you forget?” He opened the door for her.
“No,” she instantly replied. “Of course not. I won't forget something as important as this.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Great.”
The automatic window between the front and the back seat was open. He turned around to face her, eyebrows slightly knitted, and she already knew then and there that she fucked up. He didn’t even have to say it. He knew she was lying, or he suspected her to, and the guilty look she couldn’t help but put on only proved his theory right.
“Just so we’re on the same page, what am I talking about again?”
Eliza opened her mouth. Her left foot was already halfway into the trap. She gave it at least ten seconds of contemplation before she said, “The thing. You know, the important thing we have to do. Can’t believe you don’t remember.”
Happy pursed his lips. “Yeah, I’ve got a lot on my mind,” he played along. Of course, he did.
“Can you refresh my memory?” he asked her.
“It’s the thing , Happy,” Eliza said with the most conviction.
He sighed loudly. “You forgot, didn’t you?”
Snap. The trap went shut around her ankles.
“I did, yes.”
“I knew it! Can’t tell you anything. You keep it for like two seconds and then it’s gone.”
“I’m sorry!” she pouted. “I really am. Would you just tell me? If it’s so important.”
“The party, Liz,” he said.
“The party,” she repeated.
“Yes. It’s tonight.”
“Of course, the party.” She gnawed at her bottom lip. The trap was still closed tightly, with no way to escape. “Wait, what party?” she gave in to ask. Pretending was of no use, he already had her cornered.
“Seriously? You don’t even remember that part?”
“Doesn’t ring any bells, sorry. What party?”
“The Stark Party.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widened. “ Oh! Oh, God. Oh, shit. Fuck.”
The legendary Stark Party was an annual event. Every year, Tony Stark invited foes and friends alike to join him for an evening of food, drinking, and dancing. Most of the time, it went overboard. Eliza spent many years living alongside him. As chaotic as it sounded, Stark Parties were a lot of fun. Sure, the potential for disaster was great, but it made the thrill even more exciting.
That particular year though, the Stark Party wasn’t the same as it used to be. The Avengers were gone, their reputation scattered at the bottom of the ocean. They were food for the dogs. The press liked to speculate and they didn’t miss their chance to tear them down more than they already were.
The demand for Tony to come out of hiding wasn’t the occasion for the party though. Tony’s Public Relations team and his managers got together and decided it would be best for him to turn the annual event into a gala in honor of the Sokovia Accords. In light of the damning events in Berlin, he was due for an official statement, and he owed it to the people to explain.
Eliza found that stupid. Tony didn’t owe an explanation. They weren’t on good speaking terms at the moment, but back when the party first became a topic of conversation, she almost lost it. He wasn’t responsible for soothing the public’s nerves. It wasn’t his responsibility to take all the blame. He didn’t deserve to be put in the spotlight for the sole purpose of stopping the rumor mill about the Avengers.
Every side had their valid points about the decisions they made, but they missed the point of the Accords by worlds and now she was stuck between the chairs, not sure if being called a traitor or murderer was worse. She heard it all at least once.
“The Stark party,” Eliza asked. “Is that- is that tonight ? Like later today?”
“Yeah,” Happy answered - a disappointed and scrutinizing answer. “Honestly, how could you forget?”
She shrugged. “Getting old, I guess.”
“Liz, you’re twenty-three.”
“Mid-life crisis.”
“You’re not even halfway through your life.”
“I MIGHT DIE AT THIRTY!”
He sighed as loud as he humanly could. “You drive me up the walls, you know that?”
“You know you love me,” she retorted, lips quirked up behind the lid of the coffee cup.
The black glass between the cockpit and the backseat slowly began to drive upwards. The automatic whirring of the remote made the slow closing sound even more painful. Happy kept his eyes in the rearview mirror the entire time it took for the divider to slide between them.
Eliza plopped her mouth open. “You’re not seriously shutting me out,” she said. “Happy Hogan!”
She faced her reflection in the dark interior. Since all of the windows in the back were tinted one-way mirrors, she found herself between shades of black and grey leather seats.
“I’m gonna put poison in your coffee.” Chances were he could still hear her. “And then I’m gonna wash all your white shirts with pink socks and poke holes into your shoes so that every time it rains, you get wet fucking feet.”
“Woah!” The glass muffled his voice. “That is so not cool!” he said. The whirring returned as the window drove back down.
Eliza smirked. “Hi,” she said.
“I hate you.”
“I hate myself too.”
“That’s-” he sighed, “That’s so sad.”
She snapped her fingers dramatically, index finger now pointed at the disappearing glass. “If you’re not gonna appreciate my comedic genius, put that thing back up.”
“Your jokes aren’t funny, they’re sad,” he argued. “You’re sad. It’s a problem.”
“Ah-ah!” She silenced him with the same extended finger. “I’m the funniest person in this house as of late and you can’t argue with that ‘cause it’s true. I may be sad, but at least I’m not all broody about it like the rest of you. You guys can be pretty boring sometimes. Brings the whole mood down, and it honestly kills my spirit. We used to have a lot more fun around here.”
She shuffled in her seat, one leg crossed over the other. The seatbelt ran underneath her armpit, sunglasses on the top of her head, and the coffee cup piping hot in her left hand - in her personal opinion, she’d never looked cooler. She watched her twin in the rearview mirror next to Happy’s naturally annoying facial expression and she couldn’t help but notice how, even though her night had sucked more than it should have, she did a much better job at pretending than the people around her.
Happy shook his head. His lips tightened. “It’s not funny,” he said.
“At least I allow my depression to bring some sparkle to my personality,” she said. “Why cry about something you can’t change, anyway? Life’s too short to feel sorry for yourself.”
Eliza removed the sunglasses from her hair and slid them up her nose.
He frowned at the indirect insult. “I’m not feeling sorry for myself.” The defense came too quick, too fast.
“It’s called personality , Happy. If you can’t laugh about yourself, you can’t live with yourself.”
“I laugh about myself.”
“Saying haha every time I make a joke doesn’t count as laughing.”
“It does because it’s the way I laugh. You have a problem with my laugh?”
She peeked over the brim of her sunglasses. “I think you just made my point,” she said.
“I didn’t,” he said, insistent.
“But you did.”
“You know what?” He pressed the button next to the steering wheel. “I can’t hear you right now.”
The window began to separate them again.
“I only hear myself laughing. Haha .”
“Funny,” - Eliza slapped her hand against the glass - “But you’re still miserable.” The clanking of her rings against the window echoed in the secluded backseat.
The dark was a comfort, the drive half an hour long. She sipped at the expensive paper cup Cappucino Happy got from her favorite place around the corner of her apartment (which wasn’t expensive, really, she just liked to think it was). The coffee tasted like sweet heaven on her tongue. Sometimes, when she pretended to be fine, she found herself reaching a point where she believed it. It was a fun little game that came with significantly higher stakes than therapy. There are some things that the latter just can’t fix.
At least for the time being though, she focused on anything but the here and now. Reality almost broke her the previous night. Reality broke her in the mornings and it broke her during the day. The world was too full of pain to stop the inevitable.
She couldn’t allow this to ruin her day. This, whatever this was. The unknown was something that unleashed years of pent-up pain and trauma and made it so much harder to push all those feelings back down. The unknown something that had a name - Hydra, but the name alone wasn’t enough to even sum up half of it, whatever it was.
When Eliza arrived at the compound, she remembered once again just how much planning went into a party of Tony Stark’s extent. It almost matched up to his ego, and what it lacked in size, it made up for in riches. Tony never hesitated to go all out with the planning. Alone the decorations were worth a middle-class worker’s monthly salary.
The compound was the busiest it had been in years. Party planners scrambled in every possible corner, even in the driveway. The crowd of employees looked like they were closer to a mental breakdown than the main character in a horror movie stuck in the woods – Eliza felt bad for them. She saw the stress radiating off of them (literally). The explosion of colors hurt her eyes and it just wouldn’t stop. She wasn’t trying to, but the air was thick with anxiety, and she couldn’t help but absorb all the emotions that came with it. All she wanted was to make it stop, to make them stop, and to put the burning in her brain to rest for just a second so she could breathe.
She told one of the stressed-out women she passed in the hallway to hand her the clipboard she was holding because she wanted to help, as stated. Her smile lit up the room. She handed her the pile of documents and hopped off, a few pounds of stress lighter.
The deliveries came and went. Controlling the situation with bare hands was much more complicated than resolving the issue with the power of her mind. She realized soon enough that ‘party planner’ definitely wouldn’t go onto her list of preferred professions.
Trays of food arrived together with an abundance of glasses in one box – for the love of God, she had no idea where they had to go – and a month’s worth of hard liquor in the other. Eventually, the woman she freed from the dreaded work came back. She shyly asked for the clipboard, telling her Tony asked for Eliza in his office. She didn’t want to, but what did she have to lose? He already made up his mind and to be honest, so had she.
Eliza walked up to the door of his workspace. She punched in the entrance code next to the automatic doors. The lock clicked. Friday greeted her sweetly as she entered the room.
Tony stood around the big holographic table. Metal and screws littered the floor, Dum-E stood in the corner with the other robots, and used dishes from two days ago occupied the remaining free space. She didn’t even want to ask how long he’d been in there.
He finally looked up from whatever he was putting together on the hologram when he heard the AI’s voice announcing her presence. “Ah!” he clapped his hands together once, twice, and then, “There you are.”
“Hello to you, too,” Eliza said. Her eyes trailed warily around the room. She wasn’t sure what to make of the chaos - if she had to be worried or angry or impressed. It was hard to tell these days.
“I don’t often say this,” - the tone of his voice suggested he, in fact, didn’t say this often - “But Happy told me I had to. For once, I agree with the stubborn pain in the ass. I have to tell you or else I’ll feel guilty for the rest of my life.”
“Get to the point,” she urged him.
“My point is,” he said, “I’m sorry.”
He was right, the words as good as never left his mouth.
“I had no right to yell at you. You were upset and I kept punishing you and I’m sorry for that, kid. I really am. Been breaking my head over it all night.”
Tony distanced himself from the table and walked over to the messy shelves in the opposite corner. He aimlessly searched around. Typical behavior - trying to apologize but refusing to be present for the apology.
“I shouldn’t have used your past as an argument either. The drug test was uncalled for.” He still had his back turned to her. “I made a mistake. A stupid one. I admit that. It’s a new record for me. I was just trying to protect you, but I realize I might’ve overdone it or, well… executed it badly. Ah!”
He clapped his hands together again. Eliza expected him to return with whatever metal he needed for whatever he was building, but she was mistaken. He surprised her by walking up with a red box, a rather big one with a shiny bow. He placed it on the table, the blue of the holographic architectural plans reflecting off the material and shining through.
“Here.” He patted it awkwardly.
Eliza traced the paper. “What’s that?” she asked.
“An apology,” he said. “No, it’s not really an apology and more of an ‘I’ll make it up to you’.”
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
“I don’t know. I’m not good at apologizing.”
He was honest about everything he said. Even though he sucked at telling people he was sorry, he wasn’t lying. He regretted what he did. The dark circles under his eyes were signs of sleep deprivation, hours of lying awake at night and wondering what he’d done wrong, and his clothes smelled of oil and Scotch. She wasn’t the only one who’d had a rough night.
“I wanted to call, but I’m a coward, okay? I’m not made for this kind of stuff. I don’t… I don’t apologize often. I mean, I’m right most of the time. There ain’t a lot of reasons for me to apologize. The point is, I guess I was just trying to find a way to make up for it.”
“ You have been avoiding me , Tony,” Eliza said. She kept her voice calm.
Apologies aren’t easy. Not everyone is good at giving them, but there’s a difference between apologizing without a reason and apologizing because you truly screwed up.
“That’s on you. I’ve been doing what you told me to. I work with Pepper now and Happy drives me home every night,” she told him. “You had every chance to come up to me and talk it out.”
“I realize that,” he said. “Wasn’t fair. I’m sorry.”
“ You weren’t fair.”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry.”
Eliza sighed. Being mad at him was awful and as far as apologies go, this wasn’t so bad – still, she couldn’t get the words out of her head, telling her to stop, telling her she was paranoid. He couldn’t apologize for that, not as long as he believed it to be true.
Tony waited patiently for her to speak again. “I accept your apology,” she said. The mature decision. “But about what happened-”
“Oh, this again.”
“Tony-”
“I hope for your sake the next words out of your mouth are that you agree you’ve overreacted,” he said.
Her voice only strung together incoherent words. She broke off, lips parted, with a scoff. “You saw that the father of the woman I saved got shot yesterday?” she asked him.
“Tragic,” Tony agreed. He smacked his lips. “But that doesn’t have to mean anything. Even if it does, you can’t do anything about it. None of us can. You need to realize this. Things aren’t the way they used to be. Why? Are you still worried about this?”
She wanted to scream yes ! but she caught the look in his eyes, stubborn like he didn’t care about anything she said, not even the smallest word, and instantly, her guard went back up. His apology was nothing but hot air.
“No. You were right,” she said. Her smile was rock-solid; she could crash windows with it. “Just thought you wanted to know.”
He started to beam. “I knew you’d come to your senses,” he said. She bit hard into the soft tissue of her cheek. “Now, open your present.”
Eliza unclenched her fists. The anger stood dangerously close to the edge of the cliff, waiting to bubble over. The little self-control she had was barely hanging in there.
She slowly lowered the lid of the box. Play along with it, she told herself. Play along and this can all go away.
“Oh, wow!” The golden silk of the contents built a contrast to the dark inside. “ Wow .”
“You like it?”
Eliza had no doubt he paid a fortune for this piece of clothing. She struggled to find the right words. Something swelled in her chest, the familiar feeling of home. She felt appreciated. His gifts tended to have that effect on her.
“It’s a suit,” he explained.
She once told him she didn’t like to wear dresses to Stark parties. The looks and unwanted attention of misogynistic men always faltered her confidence. At least he remembered something about her. She traced the soft silk. It ran through her fingers like water. “Thanks,” she managed to say eventually. “But this was probably very expensive. I- I can’t accept that.”
He snorted at the comment. “Since when has money ever been an issue for me, huh?”
“I wish it were, sometimes.”
“Now don’t act so disappointed. This is for you , not for me. I got the designer to tailor it. I had to pull up the measurements from when I made your Avengers suit, but it was worth it. This thing’s gonna fit like a glove.”
Would it be so bad if she just accepted the suit and flaunted a little? There was nothing awful about accepting charity. Besides, he had it coming. If she ended up saving the world without him, he was the only one to blame.
“Thank you. I’ve always wanted to wear one like this.” She didn’t lie, she loved the color and mixed with the silky fabric, he fulfilled her childhood dreams with one simple purchase. In the light of the situation though, she felt less like a princess and more like an object to be presented for a cause none of them believed in.
Tony drummed his fingers against the table. He wasn’t done - he still got something in front of him that seemed like it didn’t belong there. She followed his hands carefully. He hesitated with the envelope for a second, thinking of something to say as he handed it to her.
Eliza stared down. “I don’t like to be handed things,” she said.
“You already have it,” he retorted. She waved the paper back at him. “Don’t give it back to me. No!” He raised his arms. “I’m not gonna take it back, I won’t.“
“It’s not my fault! People never hand me things. You hate it too.”
“And because I don’t like to be handed things, I’m not gonna take it back.” She was still waving around with the envelope. “Stop! Or I’ll have Dum-E spray you.”
The robot lifted his hand at the mention of his name. Eliza glared at him. “Do not!” she warned. He lowered the extinguisher with a disappointed beep .
“Tony,” she turned back to the man. “What is this?”
He flinched back once she began to wave again. “An invitation,” he said.
“For what? Tonight? Am I not already on the guest list?”
“Not for you, smart-ass! I decided to invite your attorneys. The Nelson and Murdock guys. Maverick and Goose. Men in Black. Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt.” He pursed his lips. “You know, there’s a lot more where that came from. I’m waiting for an answer here.”
“You did what ?”
“Not what I was thinking about, but yeah. I’ve been thinking. Ross might take us more serious if we were represented by a good legal team, right? Might as well give it a shot.”
“You have a point somewhere in there,” she admitted. “But you’ve got a whole list of lawyers. Top-shot law firms would lick their fingers at an invitation to this thing. These two helped me out once and even then you basically did their job for them. This is embarrassing. Why them?” she asked.
“That’s what I thought at first,” he said. “I told myself it’s a stupid idea, but then I remembered they’re technically your lawyers and not mine. So, it would be a great idea to invite them. Get some fresh blood up in this place. Spread the news. Don’t you think so?”
“Now you have no point there.”
“You’re right, there’s not. I just like them. That’s it. I like them. The guest list was looking a little meek, so I decided to add them last minute. Besides, the Murdock guy managed to keep you in check. If I could, I would give him the Nobel Prize.”
He grabbed a random pencil from the stack on the table.
“I could hire him as your babysitter,” he said. “A good-looking babysitter, a babysitter that should’ve become a model rather than a lawyer, but still a babysitter.”
“First of all,” she said, “Ouch! Second of all, I don’t need a babysitter. And third of all, this isn’t a good idea! You can’t invite them.” She was grasping at straws now.
“Why not?” he asked.
‘Because you made a complete ass out of me’, she thought. They must’ve thought she was just another spoiled child, that she didn’t have her life under control. She was a troublemaker, they read her file, and that was enough for her to blush at the thought of looking either of them in the eye ever again.
Tony tapped the pencil against the table, then followed by hitting her in the nose. “You wanna answer me or are you just gonna keep doing that adorable thinking face?”
She flinched. “It’s not adorable.”
“You’re pouting. It’s disgusting.”
“You can’t invite my lawyers!” Eliza cried out. “You can’t.” Her voice rose about two octaves higher - she sounded like a stranger to herself.
“Woah,” he said. “I know you have a crush on that Murdock guy, just didn’t think you’d be such a schoolgirl about it. I thought you were an adult, or so you keep telling me.”
Her brain went into full system failure. “Wh- Huh ?”
“Don’t act like you didn’t undress him with your eyes back at the station. I saw it. I wish I hadn’t – ugh, don’t like the thought of you liking anybody – but I did. It was even more obvious than the fact that Happy’s been carrying my engagement ring for Pepper around with him since 2008.”
She laughed. “I don’t have a crush on Matthew Murdock! It’s ridiculous,” she said. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Oh yeah, then why’s your voice so high?”
“Well… I- I mean… you’re making me very uncomfortable!”
Tony chuckled. “Keep telling yourself that, kid.” He poured himself a glass of Scotch from the tray he always kept next to his worktable. Everywhere he went, the tray of liquor was never far behind. “They’re invited,” he stated. “End of story. I need you to bring the invitation to them. Didn’t have time to prepare the mail. The party’s in–“ he checked his watch, “–nine hours. Go to their little law firm and hand it over. Maybe don’t have sex while you’re at it. I’m not ready to be a grandfather just yet.”
“Oh, my God, Tony!” The blood hammered hard against her cheeks. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Nothing, just stating the obvious.”
“None of that’s obvious because it isn’t true !” She whined in defeat, “I don’t even know the guy.”
Eliza was already sexually confused about everything and everyone and now that he’d planted the possibility in her head, she couldn’t help but overthink that she might find Matthew Murdock particularly attractive.
Tony wasn’t playing a fair game.
He set his glass down. “You have lunch break now anyway,” he said. “You can use that time to be productive. Already cleared that with Pepper. She agrees that this would be good for you. Anyway, I’m supposed to be your boss today, so I don’t want to tell you twice. Off you go,” - he clapped - “Chop, chop!”
With the suit under her arm and the envelope in her rather sweaty hands, Eliza made her way out of the workspace. She had to get down to Hell’s Kitchen, give them the envelope, and then run as fast as she could. That way she could forego making a fool out of herself again. Keeping conversation to a minimum, just hand it over and leave. Math was harder. Math would always be harder.
✧
Nelson & Murdock. Attorneys at Law.
“Hi, do you remember me?” she rehearsed, nervously jumping from one foot to the other. “I’m the girl that got herself in a fuck ton of trouble the other night and you came to bail me out. Beat up some guys in a butcher shop. The Avenger girl with anger issues? Yeah, Tony Stark paid you off. Then he treated me like a fucking child by making a huge fucking scene for everyone to watch, which is why I’m fucking embarrassed and I can’t do this !”
She turned around. Maybe she could slip it under the door. No, she had to enter the building for that. Perhaps Tony wouldn’t question it if she just told him they had other plans, like an important case the next day or any other lie that was even remotely better than this one. She could make it work.
“No!” she had promised herself once she wouldn’t avoid things just because they gave her anxiety. “You can do this,” she told herself. “It’s just an invitation. It’ll be fine.”
Her heart was beating so fast, that she felt the thudding in her throat. There wasn’t enough spit in the world to make it work.
“I can do this,” she said again.
She was still standing stiff as a tree. The envelope already crinkled at the sides from the many attempts to calm her twitching fingers.
“I can do this. Just, go in. Go.” Her legs didn’t budge. “Come on. I can always resort to shooting myself if things go wrong. It’ll be fine.”
Hesitantly, she took a step forward. “Oh, god! I can’t do this.”
The door burst open. She stumbled a few inches back. Instead of Nelson or Murdock though, an old man came out of the building. He eyed her curiously.
“Good morning,” Eliza greeted him awkwardly.
“Hello, young lady,” he said. “Were you just talking to yourself?”
“What? Me? No. No, that was someone else.”
He titled his head. “Hm. You sure you’re alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Oh, I’m fine. I just… I got a meeting with my lawyers,” she said.
“Oh, the Nelson and Murdock boys? Yes, I know them. Very nice people. Their secretary is nice too. I think her name’s Kate or somethin’. I’m no good with names. Comes with age, y’know. But the Nelson and Murdock boys? I know them. Great neighbors, and great lawyers. Great bunch of guys altogether.”
“Oh, that’s- great .” More people meant more possibility to ridicule herself. “Very nice.”
The man watched her with narrowed eyes. “You look nervous,” he observed.
“Yeah,” Eliza laughed.
“Young people these days! Dunno what’s your deal, kid, but allow me to tell you; sometimes you just gotta jump into the cold water to learn how to swim. We didn’t have any training wheels back in the day. If you don’t try, you’ll never know.”
She took a deep breath. The man was right. She could do this. She had to learn how to swim before she drowned.
“Thank you,” she meant it.
The man passed her by with a lecturing finger. “Life’s too short to think about what could happen. Sometimes you just gotta do it.”
“Thanks. That was- yeah, that helped a lot. Have a good day, sir!”
“Good day to you too, lady.”
She watched him retreat with his back slightly hunched. He seemed like a happy little old man. He probably had no idea he just gave her the best kick in the ass she ever had. Eyeing him, she could’ve sworn she knew him from somewhere, but he was gone before she could put her finger on it.
With another deep breath, she went in. Nelson & Murdock stood written on a makeshift piece of carton on the office door. She expected something a lot more sophisticated, but if you spend your life dealing with Tony Stark’s lawyers and Pepper Potts’ clientele, you get used to hot-shot stick-in-the-ass people that work and live in an expensive high-rise.
Eliza brought her fist up to the glass. She knocked carefully, afraid she might knock it out if she hit too hard.
“Come in,” the friendly female voice said from the inside.
Her hand shook around the handle.
“Hi,” she greeted.
“Oh, hello.” The blonde smiled at her. “Welcome,” – she rose from her chair – “Uh, how can I help you?” she asked.
She was a kind-hearted person, someone who always saw the good in people because she was too accustomed to the bad of her past that she desperately needed something new, something fresh in her life. Once she had that, she held onto it with all she had, even if it meant making sacrifices. The happiness of the people around her was more important than her own. She tried to keep together what belonged together even if it meant tearing herself apart inch by inch.
Eliza snapped herself out of it before the staring could get any weirder. “Yeah, hi. I’m looking for Nelson and Murdock?” she said.
The woman smiled. “You’re in the right place! I’m sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Karen Page.” She offered her hand.
“Eliza Bennett.”
“Oh, you’ve got a firm shake.“
“Jesus, sorry!” She retracted her hand. “Force of habit.”
“Oh no, it’s fine.” Karen swayed as she laughed. “So are you here for a case or…” she asked
“I’m looking for Nelson and Murdock,” Eliza said. “In, uh, person.”
Foggy gracefully twirled around the corner of his office, elbow leaning against the doorframe. “You’re in the right place, baby,” he said. “Long time no see, Miss Bennett! What’ve you been up to?”
“I haven’t killed anyone this time if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Great because otherwise, we’d have a problem.”
Eliza snorted. Upon seeing the light in his eyes she had to smile.
“Wait,” he said, “Did you say this time ? What about last time? Did you kill someone?” He whispered the last part, knowing it wasn’t true, though there was some doubt etched in his expression.
She shrugged. “Guess you’ll never know.” She tried to keep it light, but even her voice carried more weight than it should have.
She hadn’t killed anyone lately . She still committed murder more than once and so technically, she was lying. She was lying to everyone and herself, hoping it would turn her into someone normal, ordinary. It didn’t. She was still a killer, retired or not.
Foggy clapped, then opened his arms as if he was doing yoga to greet the sun. “Welcome to our humble abode. You’ve met our paralegal, Karen Page. Mister Tall And Broody over there-“
The door across the hall opened.
“Has finally decided to join us!” he said. “Matt, we’ve got a visitor. You know her. It’s our client from two days ago. You know, the one who got us paid.”
He stood with both hands on his hips. His hair was ruffled in more places than one, his cheeks flushed, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows. The red glasses looked lighter in the daylight.
He called her name distantly. “Eliza!” she loved the sound of her name on his lips. It was different from the formal title of the last name she was given. The way he said it held a special place in her heart.
As soon as Eliza stepped foot into the building, he could smell her. The scent of her lingered in the room like a thick cloud. He wasn’t complaining, not at all. She was everywhere. The distinctive smell of her got stuck in his nose the moment they met. He heard her heartbeat across the city. He heard her rehearse the speech in front of the building. It wasn’t like he’d been searching for her, but Eliza was so hard to get rid of that he simply gave up on trying to ignore his senses.
She lifted her hand, waving at him. “Hi,” she said. He felt the gush of wind coming from her.
“She just waved,” Foggy told him.
Matt chuckled. “Right. Hi .” At this point, she was sure he was teasing her intentionally. First her name, then this. He was doing it on purpose. He licked his lips, leaving a wet trail on the soft skin. “Can I- we help you?” he asked.
Eliza cleared her throat. “I’ve got something for you,” she said.
Matt didn’t miss the way her heartbeat picked up at the sight. It had a distinctive rhythm he could make out anywhere, but the change of speed was new. She didn’t have that the first time they interacted. She’d been rather curious, worked up from the events of the night. She was still worked up, but as soon as she saw him, something changed. He could smell it. He tasted it in the air. Pheromones.
“What do you have for us, Miss Bennett?”
Eliza damned him. Little did she know he could hear exactly how her breath hitched whenever he used the name for her. He didn’t need any more proof. The taste in the air was clear as day, at least to him. He made sure to lick his lips again. He was on a sugar high by then, fueled by the victory of turning her head in circles like a carousel, and the way he behaved was utterly ridiculous now that he thought of it.
She awkwardly cleared her throat again. “I come on behalf of Tony Stark,” she said. “He’s got something for you.”
Karen watched the exchange of the envelope with wide eyes. “Tony Stark?” she asked. “What’s going on?”
Foggy weighed the invitation in his hand. “She’s the Avenger chick I told you about,” he said.
“Oh, she - oh, my god! I thought I remembered that face from somewhere but I couldn’t sort it. So you’re the, uh, Avenger,” – she eyed her from top to bottom and then the same in reverse, all over again as her voice faltered in tone – “I don’t know what to say. I expected you to be…” she blew her cheeks.
“Older?” Eliza suggested.
“Yeah, maybe. I just… I didn’t think you were old, but I- well, doesn’t matter. Um, how old are you, if I may ask?”
“Karen,” Matt said. At this point, it wasn’t yet a warning, not even a threat, but it bordered on it.
“Twenty-three,” she said.
Karen chuckled in disbelief. “ Twenty-three ?”
Eliza didn’t miss the jab she sent hurling towards her with the sole power of her words. She was aware of how young she was compared to everyone else. People always talked about how she wasn’t mature enough, how she didn’t fit in because she was less experienced, less educated, less old . She was twenty-three but well aware that everyone considered her a child.
She was aware of how the people in her life always excluded her from important decisions or meetings or conversations even, simply because they believed her to be incapable of taking anything seriously. They considered her not stable or old enough for the truth. Only a handful of the Avengers ever saw her as the person she was – they saw her abilities. While trying to protect her, they still put her on an equal pedestal.
Being the youngest had its perks, sure, but it also came with a lot of prejudice, not only in her line of work but also in the response of the media when she first landed in the Bulletin at the ripe age of nineteen. She’d learned a lot since then.
She played it cool.
“I’m not as young as it sounds,” she said.
“Yeah, of course! I wasn’t insinuating anything,” Karen jumped to her defense.
“Of course, not.” She smiled sourly. “I understand.” It wasn’t her fault that the words hurt her more than they should have.
“Karen,” Matt’s tone turned into a warning. She entered dangerous territory.
Karen turned to him. “What?”
“I’m sorry about that,” he said, more to Eliza than anyone else. “Uh, h-how have you been, Miss Bennett?”
She took back anything she’d said about his chuckle. The most endearing thing about him, unchallenged, was his smile. His eyes crinkled at the sides while his teeth were full out – the kind of smile that was just so contagious that she became sick.
“I hope there hasn’t been any trouble since the other night. We didn’t really get the chance to talk. Everything alright?”
She smiled, she couldn’t help it. His smile was too charming. “I’m fine,” she said. “I’m sorry about the way things ended. I didn’t want to leave you guys standing like that.”
“Oh,” he chuckled, “It’s fine. It’s not your fault, you didn’t do anything.” He touched his glasses again, keeping them in place. They weren’t slipping, he was just so damn nervous. “I- we were more worried about you. I hope Mister Stark wasn’t too angry about the whole thing.”
“He’s a complicated person. He likes to steal the spotlight too. You guys were the ones who saved my ass. I honestly had no hope of getting out of there until you came in.”
“Well, we were just doing our jobs.”
“You’re good at your job.”
“Thank you. We, uh, don’t have many clients to compare reviews so it’s pretty hard to tell sometimes.”
“I don’t have many lawyers to compare you to either – well, I don’t have any lawyers. I usually just commit a crime and hope I get away with it. Worked pretty well ‘till now.”
“That’s awful,” he joked. “You broke your lucky streak.”
Eliza couldn’t contain the laughter. The second it left her mouth, she regretted ever making that sound. There was a reason she didn’t laugh , ever.
Matt, however, got locked in his smile. He listened to her laugh and at that moment he just prayed . Even the darkness he saw at night was nothing compared to the light lurking beneath the surface. She was just so used to the darkness that she was afraid to show who she truly was.
Someone cleared their throat next to them. “Uh, not to be a cockblock or anything,” Foggy said, “but some of us are lonely.”
A ghastly reminder that they weren’t alone. They turned to him.
“I mean, I’m not lonely. I’m pretty much in the scene, y’know. Women love me.”
Eliza squeaked, “Oh.”
Matt threw a thumbs-up. Very smooth, it was supposed to say. Well done, Foggy.
He buffed his chest. “Yeah, and I’m proud of that. Just wanted to remind you that there’s actual lonely people out there, which I am not a part of.”
His friend just shook his head. To regain at least some of his dignity, he asked, “So, this envelope. What does Stark want?”
“Right,” Eliza said. “Completely forgot about that part. Uh, I know it’s pretty late but Tony told me to inform you that there’s a party tonight, at the compound. He, uh, wants you guys there. It’s fine if you can’t make it though. He wouldn’t be mad.”
Foggy finally managed to break the seal of the envelope. He skimmed over the first few words until he found their names on the bottom and the official request, followed by the date and dress code information. “YES!” his voice boomed off the walls.
“A party?” Matt asked.
She turned to him. “Yeah, to honor the Sokovia Accords. A bunch of politicians and their dates stuffed together in a room. You know, that kind of party. But it’s not just them, don’t worry,” she instantly back-paddled. She didn’t want to lie to them, not with the excitement in Foggy’s preciously blue eyes. “Tony just wants us to get on the public’s good side again,” she said.
Karen thought it to be safe to enter the conversation again, although she treaded lightly over broken glass. “Yeah, I heard what happened,” she said. The jab was still there. She heard it loud and clear. Though she believed Karen didn’t even notice herself. “I’m sorry. For all it’s worth, I never considered you the bad guys.”
Eliza pursed her lips. “Thanks. That’s… yeah. Glad you think so.” There wasn’t more to it.
“It’s tonight?” Matt questioned again.
“Yeah.”
“Are- Are you gonna be there?”
She bit her lip to stifle the pathetic giggle. “I mean, yeah. I- I kind of have to. Joining these things is kinda in my job description.”
“So you don’t have any other plans?”
“Not really, no.” Lie.
The double life was harder than expected. Part of her wanted to come clean because damn it! She needed to talk to someone about what was happening. Though she knew she couldn’t tell anyone. The truth would only end in chaos or get her arrested again. Matt would go crazy if he knew, she figured. He was the last person she could tell, including Tony and Pepper, especially. Happy, maybe, but she didn’t want to put him in that position. It truly was an unfortunate predicament.
Matt hummed at her answer, not quite happy about it, but satisfied. “Okay, sounds fun. Foggy?”
Foggy held the invitation like it was an expensive diamond. His eyes were wide, almost loving. “Oh yes,” he whispered. “We’ll be there and we’re gonna look absolutely fucking dashing !”
Eliza chuckled. “With you, I don’t doubt that.” She turned to Karen then. “You’re coming too, right?”
Karen blinked. “ Me ?” she asked.
“Yeah, you’re their paralegal. You belong to the firm. Tony invited you all, so you’re entailed.”
“I can’t possibly- I mean, I don’t want to intrude. Parties aren’t exactly my thing.”
“Oh, come on, Karen!” Foggy said. “It’s a Stark Party. The best kind of party. A national treasure. This is-“ he lifted the black envelope, “-this is what everybody wants. Not everyone has it, it’s not an STD, thankfully. No! This thing is a rarity.”
She knew he was holding back on his excitement. He was adorable, too good for this terrible world. He was the kind of friend everyone wanted but hardly anyone appreciated just enough.
“I don’t think it’s that big of a thing anymore,” it bubbled out of Karen without thinking.
This time, Eliza couldn’t help but look offended. “I’m sorry?” she said.
“Oh! Oh, my god!” She chuckled into her hand. “It’s not- I’m sorry. Man, I’m killing it right now. I like you, I do, this is just new to me. And honestly, I’m not Foggy. I don’t think Tony Stark is such a big deal anymore.”
She was less offended now. Why is it that society always wants to pit women against each other so much that you begin to internalize it?
“Karen,” Matt warned again.
“No,” Eliza reassured her. “Tony Stark is just another rich guy with too much power and money. I get why you think that way. I just, I take easy offense when people talk about the Avengers like I didn’t just lose half my friends.”
“Yeah,” Karen smiled. “I think the same way. After the whole Wilson Fisk story, I’m a bit wary of rich people. Don’t know if you heard, but he screwed with us, almost forcing us to close our doors for good.”
“Yeah, I heard. Was pretty big in the news. Trust me, I’m not one of them. The only rich thing about me is the fact that I can steal Tony’s credit card and he would never know.”
“Really?” Foggy cut in. “Can you steal it for me?” She frowned at him. “Not that I condone credit card fraud,” he clarified. “I’m on the side of the law, of course. I was just thinking, hypothetically, could you do it?”
Eliza shook her head slightly. “I doubt that,” she said.
He stomped his foot. “Damn it!”
“I can use his Amazon account though. Claim it was my idea.”
“Prime?”
“Yeah.”
“Could you buy me a pair of sneakers? Hypothetically .”
“Sure,” she chuckled. “Why not?”
“Sweet!”
“Great.” Eliza checked her watch. “Anyway, I still gotta get lunch before I get hangry and commit homicide. I’ll see you guys tonight?”
“You bet your sweet ass we will!” Foggy said.
She snapped her fingers. “That’s the spirit!”
Matt called her name again. She turned around. Her heart sank deeper into her stomach where flowers and plants grew in bulks.
“I’m gonna walk you out,” he said.
He felt the wall down until he reached the cane placed against the corner of his office.
“You don’t have to,” she said.
Matt smiled. “I know.”
“Oh, okay. I just-“She stepped through the door first, holding it wide open. “There you go.”
“Thank you.”
Karen and Foggy watched curiously; Eliza and Matt interacted with such ease it was almost suspicious – the door fell into their faces, but Foggy knew instantly.
“He’s not gonna come back anytime soon.”
Karen turned. “What?” she asked.
“They’re gonna get lunch together, then Matt’s gonna make a move and she’s gonna act on it because these two idiots have got a lot of unresolved sexual tension that I don’t know where it’s coming from, but it’s there.”
“You- Matt and Eliza, really?” Karen sat down, head propped up on her hand.
“Yeah, you didn’t see it?” he asked. “Matt got all flustered the second she came in here. I’d be damned if he doesn’t take her ass out on a proper date by the end of this week. Nah, let’s give it a day. After tonight, I’m gonna plan their wedding.”
“Don’t you think she’s… I don’t know.”
“What, Karen? Annoying? She is, but so is Matt. They finish each other’s sandwiches or something, like in that Frozen song.”
“They’ve met once .”
“So? Ever heard of love at first sight? I’m not saying they’re in love, I’m just saying they need to have sex soon because I can’t watch that happen every day without either of them doing anything about it.”
“Foggy,” Karen tried again, “she’s twenty-three.”
He slowly lowered the envelope. “That’s what this is,” he said.
“What?”
“You think the age gap’s too big.”
“Yeah, I mean, ten years is a lot. Or, I think it’s eleven now, even. I know she’s not a child, but come on! She’s twenty-three, Foggy,” she said. “That girl doesn’t have her life figured out.”
“Neither does Matt.”
“What if they do end up together and she hurts him?”
Foggy continued to act unbothered. He made up his mind. “That’s not gonna happen.” He reached for the coffee cup he’d left on Karen’s desk. “He’s gonna hurt her before she can hurt him. Then they’re gonna hurt each other because that’s just the kind of people they are, Karen. They’re complicated.”
“And that’s supposed to make it better?”
“No,” he said. “Try not to think too hard. Just because Eliza’s young doesn’t make her less eligible than someone Matt’s age. And even if it doesn’t work out, it’s none of our business.”
“Why are you being so passive-aggressive?” she asked him.
“Because you’re acting a little jealous, Karen, and I don’t like that energy up in my shipping space.”
“ What ?”
“You heard me. Have a good lunch.”
Foggy closed the door to his office.
✧
The sun burned down on them as soon as they stepped out of the building. Eliza slowed her step. Matt stopped in front of her, cane firm in his hands. He was still smiling by the time they got out.
“Thanks,” she said. “For walking me out.”
He chuckled. “Is it too late to say that it was just an excuse to get you alone?”
“What?”
“Yeah, I, uh, I wanted to talk to you but we didn’t exactly get a chance. The walls in the office are pretty thin, so…” he said. She didn’t miss the blush he tried to hide by lowering his head.
Eliza wiped her hands on her jeans. “Oh,” was all she could say.
“I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. I-”
“Oh? No. No, I just, this all comes a little… unexpected?”
“Eliza,” he said her name again with such certainty. “Would you like to grab lunch with me?”
“Lunch?”
“Yeah, I’d like to get to know you, if you’d let me.”
Matt chuckled nervously. He mistook the change in her heartbeat for rejection. The way she couldn’t speak, too shocked to form any coherent words. He felt the doubt settle in. What did he think about asking her out, anyway? The lines were blurry; he didn’t know if this was Matthew or Daredevil deciding for him.
“You know what,” he said, “forget I said anything. I don’t know what came over me. Some lines shouldn’t be crossed. I understand that you’re uncomfortable.” He sounded disappointed, more in himself than her.
She didn’t like the way his head hung low, his stance changed, and the death grip on his cane. He was hurt, he thought she rejected him, but that wasn’t her intention. Eliza simply had no idea how to react to someone asking her out, especially not so gracefully.
“Oh, my god,” she said. “No! I’m not uncomfortable. Jesus, no. I’m flattered, actually.”
“But you don’t want to go out with me.” He opened his arms a little. His gesture was directed at his cane and the glasses on his face. “It’s fine,” he said. “I’m probably not the kind of man you’re looking for.”
“What?” Eliza said again.
“Yeah, the men you’re with are probably a lot more… able .“ he smacked his lips. “I just made a fool out of myself.”
She honestly still couldn’t comprehend what was happening. The revelation that he was doubting himself because of the one thing she didn’t even notice – made her angry.
“Matt,” she tried and this time, she found the words. Her brain finished rebooting. He lifted his head as she mentioned his name. “I’m not uncomfortable. Or, I am but not because of you. I’m uncomfortable because of myself. I’m just not used to people asking me out on dates, okay? I’m socially awkward and I don’t fucking know how to react when someone is kind to me. When someone tells me they like me I say, thank you. Who does that?” she said. “Point is, this isn’t because of you. Oh, god! I’m the idiot. And you’re… well, you’re you . Of course, I’d like to go to lunch with you. This isn’t even a question. Anyone who’d say no to that, to you, is an idiot.”
Matt exhaled the breath he’d been holding. “Men don’t ask you out?” he asked.
Eliza shrugged. “Men, women, no one does.” She’d gotten used to it fairly quickly.
“What are they, blind?”
Her eyes widened for a moment before she burst out laughing. He joined in softly. The sound of her laugh outmatched the soft singing of the birds in the trees. He wanted to frame it, tape it, and listen to it every day for the rest of his life.
She wiped at the corners of her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said. Her laughter faded into giggles. “Well, now that we’ve established we both want it, why don’t we go and find a place to have lunch? I think I know someplace around here.”
Matt nodded. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
She took his hand and placed it on her upper arm like it was the most normal thing in the world for her to do. He took the offer gladly and held onto her bicep firmly, but not too hard. He wasn’t hurting her, but his hand was there and she felt it soft against her shirt.
“I’m, uh, sorry for assuming you didn’t want to go out with me because of… well, I think it’s pretty obvious. I think too much sometimes,” he said.
Eliza smiled at him. “I promise you, I’m not that kind of person. I didn’t even notice you’re blind. I mean, I did notice, but it was more like, oh that’s Matt Murdock, not oh that’s blind Matt Murdock. ”
His heart swelled. He couldn’t help it. No one had ever touched him quite as she did. Eliza had a deeper understanding of the world that most brains could only dream of having.
“I’ve noticed you didn’t even once say something about my blindness,” he said. “I blamed it on the fact we only met once, but you don’t look at me the way others do. I’m used to people walking on eggshells around me, treating me like broken glass even though I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. You don’t.”
“I mean, yeah. You’re a person. I don’t know why so many people make such a big deal about disabilities. They consider anything that goes against the neurotypical view of humanity fragile. To your left,” she paused to pull him aside. A couple passed by them. “About ten steps, crossing the street.”
She led them to the other side.
“Anyway, where was I? Ah, yes! Once you’re on the neurodiversity spectrum, people tend to see you as less than you are because you’re disabled in some way,” she said. “Did you know, mental illness is essentially considered a disability too? Which makes most of the population disabled in one way or another. Nearly one out of five US adults live with a mental illness. That’s around twenty-six percent. Physical or mental disabilities range around sixty-one million Americans. Add that together, you have more than half of the US population that’s living with any sort of disability on a day-to-day basis.”
Matt never considered himself someone who got easily turned on. The women he was with fell for his charms easily. It was rare that he was so instantly attracted to someone.
Eliza nudged him a little. “Few steps to the right.”
He didn’t want to talk. He wanted to listen to her, savor it until his dying breath. He couldn’t get enough of it. Eliza was getting him riled up without even knowing.
“I know that’s just numbers and math isn’t really my thing, but I’ve studied the statistics and I can say they’re pretty accurate. Of course, there’s still the benefit of the doubt. You can’t generalize everyone just because someone treats you like porcelain once. A lot of people aren’t ableists. I like to think that there are still good people left in the world, and even if they treat you like glass, it’s easy to educate them,” she said. “Most let you. It’s the society that makes us wary of disabilities. The way we are brought up imprints the views we carry around with us. People involuntarily see the disability before they see the person. It’s not only wrong but it’s also incredibly offensive. Reducing yourself to your disability only makes you insecure, and no one should feel bad about who they are. What ?”
Matt tried so hard to keep himself together, but no matter how hard, he failed miserably. The way he smiled probably gave him away.
“Nothing,” he said, voice breathy.
“You- you’re looking at me like-“
“I can’t really look anywhere.”
“Wow!” but she laughed anyway. “No, seriously, you have this, like, expression on your face. What is it?”
“I like the sound of your voice,” he admitted.
“Oh.” Her cheeks flushed red.
She wished for him to place these stupidly plump lips on hers, to eat her like she was his last meal on death row. His voice left no space for interpretation. He was fucking horny.
They crossed the street again. His grip tightened a little around her arm. The corner café she wanted to take him came into view slowly, beautiful flowers of a great variety planted in painted pottery outside with red windows surrounding the exterior. A touch of color in the darkness that was Hell’s Kitchen.
“Can I ask you something?” Matt said.
Eliza hummed. “Yeah?”
“Are you religious?”
“Religious?” she asked.
“Yeah, do you believe in God?”
“I don’t- I’m not-“ she scoffed, “It’s complicated.”
“How so?” he asked.
She directed her eyes to the clear sky. ‘Do you believe in God?’ He was catholic, the question only made sense. Matt Murdock seemed like the overly dedicated type of man, after all.
If there was one thing she loathed to talk about more than anything it was the subject of humans following the guidelines of a series of books written for the sole purpose of serving a higher power in the sky. She believed there was life beyond the universe - she knew for a fact life wasn’t limited to existence on Earth and the possibility of a multiverse wasn’t so far off. Though she struggled to have faith in something as complex as the entity of God. Many people worshipped the main character of the bible. The prophets, the angels, and even the martyrs dedicated their lives to the cause. It was remarkable, but what purpose does it serve to believe in a God that refuses to help when bad things happen to his precious human race? War, famine, sexism, racism, ableism, rape, the sterilization of little girls and so much more evil continues to happen all around the world for absolutely no reason - why would a powerful deity ignore this?
Eliza actively began to question the meaning behind blind faith and faith itself, religion, and God’s existence only after she joined SHIELD. She’d only just gotten her mind back; Hydra twisted her view on religion ever since she was a child, so having the opportunity to form her own opinion by educating herself was somewhat of a blessing in disguise. Though in search of the truth, she discovered that what she had been forced to believe didn’t add up with her perception of the world.
She had huge respect for people like Matt who stood by their faith. He took it seriously. His mind was open enough to allow the concept to manifest. By believing in God, he proved his ability to believe in the good. What was broken, he tried his hardest to fix. He decided to take her case because he believed she was more than a basket case. She wasn’t a lost cause. His catholicism kept him going. It was impressive and as much as the question pained her to hear, she could understand why he chose to ask her something as intimate as her religious point of view.
“You alright?” Matt asked after she’d grown significantly quieter.
Eliza breathed out. “Yeah,” she said. Her arm tensed under his hold. He tried to soothe his thumb over her skin, but it did little to ease her muscles. She was emotionally bottled up, locked up like a maximum security prison with no means of escape, something he knew all too well.
“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” He smiled at her.
She assured him that it was fine. “I just… I don’t even know where to begin. My whole life I’ve been somewhat conflicted about God. The question sounds so easy, but it isn’t,” she explained. “I can’t tell you why exactly, but I wasn’t allowed to talk about religion, ever. I memorized prayers and I listened to preachers, but I never learned how to deal with what I heard because I wasn’t supposed to question it.”
He inched closer for maximum comfort, but his proximity was suffocating. The heat radiating off of him mixed with his scent made matters only worse and he didn’t even realize it.
“I’m sorry,” his breath tickled her ear. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
He realized she was uncomfortable. He also realized it wasn’t entirely because of their conversation. She tried to hide it, but unlike lying, she wasn’t very good at pretending. Matt heard every little change in her voice. Sometimes the pitch changed, sometimes she talked faster, sometimes slower, and sometimes she made her voice sound a certain way to divert attention from what was lying underneath the several layers of cement shielding her heart from hurt.
She could control her heartbeat to trick her body, to trick her enemies and her friends, but even completely calm, the rhythm changed significantly for his ears. A normal person wouldn’t have realized it; he knew what her heart sounded like in its natural state, when she was scared or when she was angry - when she was trying to pretend or lie, there was the smallest pick-up in heart rate and it changed the tune.
Her voice couldn’t have been softer though. She kept up the act, even as the tension rolled down her throat like acid, and it was getting harder to breathe.
She cleared her throat then, finally. “I suppose it’s not that I’m not religious,” she said. “I used to pray when I was a kid because I had to. I didn’t have a choice, you know. When I didn’t follow the rules, they would punish me. So I prayed. Not because I wanted to. I was just scared. I was scared of God, mostly. He was this all-powerful being and I was this little kid praying to him. I was promised that if I didn’t do as I was told, I would suffer a worse fate for my sins. So yeah, I was scared of God. Part of me still is, I guess.”
The clarification put space between them.
“God failed me. After I became an Agent at SHIELD, I figured it was of no use to pray and hope for a happy ending. No one was listening anyway. Why should I bruise my knees if I get nothing in return, y’know?”
Matt chuckled. “Oh, yeah. I know exactly what you mean,” he said. His voice was rough, lower than usual, maybe even bitter in a way.
She placed her hand over his where he kept it on her bicep. He flinched slightly, fingers flexing. She did it without warning, without indication. Her touch suddenly appeared and it was soft, so fucking soft, he could’ve sworn it wasn’t real, nothing but a fever dream concocted by his mind to play tricks on him and his delicate feelings.
“How about you?” Eliza asked. “You said you were Catholic.“
The memory caused him to smile. “Yeah, I’m catholic,” he said. “I grew up that way. I believe in God, I guess I always have. It’s not something I can turn off. Once you’ve devoted your life to the cause, there’s little that can sway you, no matter how bad it hurts. As you said, it’s complicated.”
“So how do you do it?”
“Honestly?”
“Yeah.”
“No idea.”
Her hand tightened around his hand as she laughed.
“I’ve lost my way more than once. It’s not easy to keep believing when everything…” he sighed, “Just doesn’t feel like it’s enough.”
Eliza stared at the gravel beneath their feet. “It won’t ever be enough,” she said quietly.
“Yeah, but I’m catholic. It’s who I am. No matter how little faith I have left, I can’t change who I am.”
“God owns you.”
They stopped for reasons unknown. He couldn’t have cared less. The comfort of her presence shut everything else out. He didn’t care about the family across the street, the child crying only a few feet away, nor did he care about the couples displaying their affection in every corner imaginable. It was just him, Eliza, and the sun.
The sun stroked his face, gentle hands on his stubbled cheeks. He lifted his chin, basking in it. Hot and heavy she made her throne on his skin. The warmth reached deep into his chest, summer in his senses. Her voice and the sweet, sweet words followed the heat. They lay in the pit of his stomach, waiting to be processed, but he couldn’t. Not just yet. He felt content in her presence, all the world deaf to him. He wanted to feel safe just a little longer.
“You take the words from my mouth,” he muttered.
Eliza pouted, “Maybe I’m a mind reader.”
“Maybe you are.” He laughed softly. “Or maybe we’re just too alike.”
“ Too? Is it a bad thing?” she asked. “For us to be alike, I mean.”
“No,” he said, certain, clear as the day.
“Good, I’m glad.” She watched him watch the sun - he wasn’t watching it, per se, he was feeling it. Matt experienced the light with all of the remaining senses. He soaked up everything the sun had to give and then asked for more, and she gave it to him. He looked so beautiful in the yellow light.
“Feels like I sold my soul to him a long time ago and now-” he scoffed. She gawked at him, surprised at the honesty, no longer lost in the feeling of attraction. Rather, she was curious. “Now I have to suffer the consequences,” he said. “I’m his disciple. I grew up in a catholic orphanage. I made sacrifices to get where I am now. I just didn’t realize the kind of responsibility that comes with devotion.”
Eliza breathed softly. Her fingers caressed his again. ‘ Oh ’, she made the sound.
“I’ve been to church a lot since the night I met you.”
“Oh!” this time, louder. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Was it something I did?”
Matt laughed. He turned away from the sun, head tilting her way. His ears searched for the source of her voice until it appeared as if he was looking at her.
“You didn’t do anything,” he assured her. He pushed his glasses back up his nose. “Faith doesn’t come to me as easy as it used to. I guess I just needed more proof that this devotion to God that I’ve, uh, mentioned is worth something. I want to be his disciple and still feel like I’m doing the right thing. Lately, it doesn’t feel that way. My gift begins to feel more like a curse than a blessing more and more every day.”
“Gift?”
“My blindness,” he stated. “I believe God made me that way for a reason.”
“Oh, Matthew.” She sighed softly. “What reason could he have to do that to you?”
What reason could God have to blind a man? If he truly believed that, his behavior and antics made even more sense than they did before.
He diverted the question. “That night at the station I realized something about the world. No matter how hard I try, there’ll always be more evil than good,” he said. “I suppose it’s one of the many reasons I’ve, uh, been going to church a lot more than before.”
Perhaps he was what the physical form of an angel looked like, or maybe he was the devil in disguise. Someone so beautiful often harbored a darker secret. Matt Murdock, the lawyer, the man who devoted his life to doing good. It was part of Catholicism, she supposed. He was the Good Samaritan, a pro-bono lawyer saving whatever hopeless cause stumbled into his arms. Little by little, he tried to make the world a better place. Too perfect to be true. She wondered what God (real or not) would think of her if he saw her in the presence of someone so faithful.
“Isn’t it bad for you to spend time with someone like me, then?” she asked.
Matt tilted his head. “What do you mean?”
“I’m no saint. Isn’t there a rule against that?”
He chuckled. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear that. No,” he said, “You’re not the kind of sin I’d need to ask penance for.”
“So I’m a sin now?”
“I may be catholic, but I’m no saint either.”
“Oh, does Matthew Murdock have a dark side?”
He smirked. “Wanna find out?”
Eliza straightened his tie. His Adam’s apple bopped. “I have a better idea,” she said.
“Like what?”
“Wanna go to lunch?”
His smirk dropped into a defeated laugh. “You got me there.”
“Take me out first, then we can talk about specifics.”
“Fair game, Miss Bennett.”
She held the door open for him. “For your information, Matthew,” - she stopped into his way as he tried to tap his way forward into the room that smelled of coffee and bread - “You’re hot, but two can play this game.“
His nose barely brushed her cheek, “All I’m hearing is that you find me hot.”
“You’re such a man-whore.“
He looked offended at the comment.
Giggling, Eliza took his hand in hers and pulled him into the warmth of the café. “Table for two,” she told the waitress. “In the corner, if it’s possible. Not too close to the kitchen.”
Matt wondered how exactly she ended up in his life, what dues he had to pay. “Thank you,” he whispered.
“Of course.”
The waitress led them to a secluded table in the corner of the room. On the opposite of the street, the sun passed behind the highrise. The glass filtered the shrill lighting and threw soft hues of daylight in the shape of a rainbow onto their table.
He tilted his head to listen to her heartbeat once again. Thud, thud thud, thud. “You feelin’ less anxious now?” he asked.
Eliza frowned. “How do you know I have anxiety?” she blatantly shot back.
“Your heart beats pretty fast when you get nervous. Happens all the time. I felt it earlier when I touched your arm. Your pulse was skyrocketing. I didn’t want to assume, but I made you laugh and now you seem less on edge.”
She pulled the chair out to him. “That’s cute but intrusive. Could easily border on offensive, too.”
“The only offensive thing is that you’re doing the thing I’m supposed to do.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She snapped her fingers towards the chair. “Now, sit!”
He chuckled. “You’re something else.”
Eliza lowered into her chair opposite him. He discarded his suit jacket again, pulling his sleeves up. The room was too hot, even with the A/C running. She watched the muscles in his forearms flex as he undid the buttons.
Fucking Adonis in a suit.
“You’re staring,” he said.
“Just admiring the view,” she retorted.
“You want me to put on a show? Take my shirt off? In a public setting?”
She laughed, teeth gnawing at the inside of her cheek. He knew exactly what he was doing. She was sure of that.
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I might,” she said.
“Is that why you’re fidgeting with your rings?”
Eliza quickly took one off and tossed it at him. The metal bounced off his face. “Ouch.” He ran his fingers over the moons that were imprinted in the small ring. “It’s a spinner,” he realized.
“Helps with the anxiety. A friend told me about it after he saw the ad on social media.”
He took her hand and slipped it back onto whatever finger he felt was still empty on the tabletop. “You’re gonna need that,” he said.
She feigned the most dramatic gasp her chest could conjure up. “Are we engaged now?” she asked.
His jaw slacked, eyebrows raised in mock excitement. “Oh, I think we might be. Waiter!”
“Hey!” The words sent a shock through her heart, yet she couldn’t help but laugh. Matt joined in soon after. “Oh, my god. Don’t do that! Someone might hear you.”
“We need champagne to celebrate,” he said. “We’re engaged now. I think Foggy already planned our wedding.”
Eliza placed a hand against her chest, the left side, over her heart. “But Mister Murdock,” she said, “I don’t have a dress.”
“That can be fixed. Let’s just steal one.”
“I heard that’s illegal.”
“Nah, only if we get caught. Besides, I won’t be able to see you anyway.”
“So I could wear a trash bag and you’d still find me absolutely beautiful ?”
“I don’t know, I can’t see.”
“Matt Murdock, you little shit!”
He reached for the hands that covered her mouth, holding back the sound of laughter he enjoyed so much.
“Don’t do that,” he said.
“What?” she asked.
“Hide your face when you laugh. I like the way it sounds. It’s… nice. The world’s usually so loud and hard. Your voice is calm in comparison.”
Calm.
She scrunched her nose. “Not many people have said that to me before.” Only one, to be exact.
She didn’t want to believe it. Her mind was screaming for her to ask the right questions, to be blankly honest with him, but the possibility didn’t seem reasonable. Why would he be the man who saved her life in a devil’s suit and a mask? He was catholic and blind. Those two reasons were big enough to cause significant doubt.
Eliza figured she just wanted to solve the riddle of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen so badly that she started to project her frustration onto Matt. It couldn’t be true. He would have told her if it were. They were a team, after all. He even promised not to let her in on his dark secrets, so the questions in her head made even less sense.
The lack of sleep was getting to her.
Perhaps she was just a calm person, after all. She’d never thought of herself that way because no one’s ever cared as much as the new men in her life. She should be proud of that.
“Not everyone listens to somebody’s voice the way I do,” he said, pulling her out of the spiral.
She scoffed. She wanted to sigh, but it didn’t come out right. “Yeah, another thing that’s special about you.”
“You think I’m special?”
“You said you like my voice,” she said. “That’s the most beautiful compliment I’ve ever gotten. Beats ‘nice tits’ by worlds.”
“Men say that?” Matt asked.
She looked at him, ‘Duh!’ “Oh, they do.”
He threw his head back and groaned, “That’s pathetic!”
“It is, isn’t it?”
“If you feel the need to objectify someone, maybe you should rethink your life choices and learn some manners before you approach people. No one likes a misogynistic asshole.”
Great, Eliza thought. The part of her brain responsible for rational decisions already glared at her for the trail her thoughts followed down into the gutter. He’s doing the bare minimum and you’re already on your knees. She scoffed at the voice in her head. The one time I’m asking you to keep your legs closed.
Being bad had never felt so good as the last couple of days. She was on a roll.
“Right?!” she scoffed highly instead. “I don’t understand why men say that. Reducing someone to their breasts… I mean, what purpose does that serve?”
Eliza restored to what she did best – rambling. The voice piped up again, There’s something seriously wrong with you. But she ignored her. Rationality was overrated, anyway.
“I don’t understand what some men think that’ll get them besides a sexual harassment suit,” she said. “I mean unless it’s your partner saying that to you, it’s the last thing you want to hear from some stranger at the bar. Men be like, nice tits! And then they’re offended when I tell them to fuck off. Like, what am I supposed to say? ‘Thanks for the objectification, now Marry me?’ Yeah, right.”
His eyebrows twitched. He smirked again, the mischief plastered on his face like a temporary tattoo. “You want me to direct my eyes that way to make you feel better?” he asked.
“Can you do that?”
“Yeah, I’m doing it right now.”
“I think you’re staring at the table.”
“I am?”
She snorted, “Yeah.”
“Oh.” he grinned, shifting, and then his head bent in her direction again. “Was worth a try.”
Eliza swirled her thumb around the cup of coffee the waitress brought them some time during their conversation. “I like you,” she stated matter-of-factly. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d felt so carefree as she did at that moment.
Matt stabbed one of the tomatoes in their shared salad. “I think we have that in common, Miss Bennett,” he said.
“Stop calling me that! Call me Eliza, or just Liz.”
“Alright, Miss Bennett.”
She kicked him under the table. “Stop it,” she warned.
He lifted his right foot and landed one kick right to her shin. “Hitting a defenseless blind man isn’t very progressive of you, Miss Bennett.”
“Right now, I don’t give a shit.”
His hand reached for her ankle the next time she kicked for him. “Gotcha!”
“You got a pretty good aim.” He ran his thumb over her ankle. The smirk that ate at his lips was darker than before.
“Oh, come on!” she pulled her foot from his grasp. “Get your head out of the gutter, Murdock! This – you and me – ain’t happening. We’re two friends having lunch, nothing more.”
“I didn’t say anything,” he said, but the smirk remained.
“You thought about it.”
“Can’t say I have.”
“Act innocent all you want, I can hear it in your voice.” She said the last part under her breath, sure he hadn’t heard it.
“We’ll see about that,” he chuckled into his coffee.
Silence nestled between them. Eliza fiddled with the rings around her fingers, spinning the one she’d previously tossed at Matt counter-clockwise. The minutes passed by like seconds. She caught herself thinking back to the night before every time the world allowed her a second to breathe. The shooting, the information, the small vial she stole. People got hurt because of her. She couldn’t change that now. She would in a heartbeat, but she couldn’t. The night was a done deal.
Daredevil could’ve died protecting her. The man she barely knew was willing to take a bullet for her, no questions asked. Hardly anyone would do that for a total stranger - he was wary of the power she harbored, yet he didn’t hesitate twice before pushing her out of the way, knowing at least one of the bullets was meant for her. He didn’t run, he stayed. He promised to listen, he promised they could do this, and they would face everything head-on, together. He promised he would come back for her and she didn’t doubt it for a second. He wasn’t the kind of man to make empty promises.
Eliza risked the lives of more than one person in only two nights. She was too nosy for her good, both Tony and Matt had told her that. The lawyer knew without personally knowing her. It was pretty damn obvious, to say the least, that she had no regard for her safety. There weren’t many people left in her life and those who were left had a target on their backs.
The thought settled in slowly. She tried to shove it away, blame it on the paranoia, but it nestled in there like a mother bird waiting to lay eggs. The eggs portrayed disasters waiting to happen. They could hatch anytime, without warning. Little birds of death ready to destroy everything in their way.
“Eliza?” she snapped back at the sound of her name. Fingers brushed over her tense knuckles.
She sucked in a sharp breath. “Sorry, what?”
The earth still spun. She was surrounded by normal people, unaware of the dangers lurking in the dark. They didn’t care about monsters, aliens, or Hydra. Their lives revolved around work, romance, friends and family, heartbreak, and sex. What was it like to live such a life, without demons infiltrating her mind on a daily?
“You just zoned out there for a second,” Matt said.
Eliza scratched her nose. Not that it was itchy, she just didn’t know what else to do with her hands besides build pools of nervous sweat. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I just got a lot on my mind.”
“Like what?”
She’d never been on a date before, not really. She doubted this was what dating would normally look like. Neither of them fit into the ordinary, but she figured it was the closest thing to ‘normal’ she’d get in a while. She had to enjoy it while it lasted.
“Work,” she answered.
“Work?” he raised his eyebrows. “What do you, uh, work? I read in your file that you work for Stark Industries, but it’s been a while since they updated it. Sorry if that’s too personal.”
Eliza shifted in the chair. “I’m,” - how was she supposed to answer that? - “I work for Pepper Potts, yeah. Run background checks on potential clients, help with selling Stark Tech, and all that. In other words, I’m a fancy secretary for a billion Dollar company. Not something I can flex with.”
“Don’t say that,” he said. “Seems like you’re an important part of the business.”
“Nah, I just like to argue and men are afraid of me.”
That made him laugh. “Maybe you should consider law school.”
The joke cut too close to home.
“I don’t think so,” she said, tensing up.
“You haven’t thought about it?”
Yes. “No,” she said.
Matt knew that it was a lie. “It seems like that’s something you’d be interested in. I’m sure I could pull some strings for you if you want.”
“That’s not possible for me.” She prayed he would just drop it.
Matt Murdock didn’t drop it though. He hardly ever did. If he set his mind to something, he was adamant to get what he wanted.
“Why not?” he asked.
“I don’t have a high school degree.”
He paused.
“And I just killed the conversation.” Eliza scoffed. “Sorry. Seems like I’m not as smart as you think I am.”
“No! No, I still think you’re smart. That just came unexpected.”
“Yeah, never went to high school. Never even set foot into one. My knowledge is limited to what I read in books or what I can find on the internet. I’m not from around here, so…”
“It’s just a degree, Eliza,” he said once he regained his composure. “A piece of paper doesn’t define who you are. You don’t need physical proof that you’re smart.”
“You don’t have to lie to protect me,” she said.
“I’m serious. I’d never lie to you. I don’t care if you went to high school. I mean, there are courses for that. You can still go to college, or you don’t. It’s up to you. I won’t tell you what to do with your life.”
The weight lifted off her shoulders. She felt less stupid in his presence. He was a lawyer, went to law school, he did all the things she wished she’d had the time for. Matt was probably one of the smartest men she’d ever met and one of the best lawyers, too. At least he didn’t take her as a complete failure.
“Where are you from, if I may ask?”
She jolted. How was she even supposed to answer that? His questions were so stupidly direct, that she had trouble making up something convincing enough to settle his need for information. Of course, those were questions that are frequently asked when first meeting someone, but she wasn’t like those people and he had no idea.
There were only a handful of people that truly understood where she came from, and Matt Murdock would never be one of those. He was too innocent for that.
“I’m Russian,” Eliza said. Still seemed wrong to admit and she still felt far from it, but the truth often hurt. The truth is the reason why people lie.
Matt tilted his head curiously. One of his thick fingers played with the brim of his cup, collecting the liquid there and pushing it back in. The action was meditative somehow.
“Your file doesn’t say anything about where you were born, so I thought I had to ask,” he stated. “Now that I think of it, I talk a lot about your file while I should be forming my own opinion. I’m sorry.” he chuckled awkwardly. “I guess I just want to learn as much about you as possible.”
“Well, I’m glad I don’t have to ask you to explain your line of questioning to me. Sometimes I forget you’re a lawyer.”
“Yeah, the questions come with the job.”
“It’s fine,” she assured him. “No one’s ever cared this much about my life before, is all. That’s why I struggle so much with answering. I don’t even know what I’m answering about.”
“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” he reminded her again.
“I want to. I mean, I want you to understand.”
“I would love to understand.”
She smiled. “I know you do. It’s what’s so great about you.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” he chuckled softly. “So, your heritage? You said you were Russian,” he asked.
Eliza licked her lips clean. “I came to the US about seven years ago, before the Avengers Initiative was even put out in the open,” she said. “The story’s a bit complicated. You just have the files SHIELD released after I joined, but Avengers aren’t open books. We have backstories and those stories are better left untold. At least to the public. There’s a reason we became heroes instead of, I don’t know, doctors.”
“Seven years ago?” He leaned back. “You don’t have an accent. That’s… impressive.”
“I learned to hide it well. I speak more than one language, so mastering accents is kind of how I grew up.”
“Really? What else do you speak?” He asked with spiked curiosity.
She shrugged. “The usual. French, Spanish, Italian, Russian, Mandarin, Korean, Latin,” she counted. “Although the last one doesn’t count, I suppose. Dead languages are dead for a reason.”
“Do you speak Punjabi?”
“What?”
“Punjabi.”
“Is that even a language?”
“Apparently. Foggy took it in college,” Matt said. “It was to impress a girl, but he still took it.”
“I’ve never even heard of it,” Eliza admitted.
“Oh, thank God! I thought I was the only one.”
She laughed, loud and clear, and this time she didn’t bother to place her hands before her face. He smiled back at her, simply happy that he made her laugh. She was a complicated person, easily made uncomfortable, and tended to lock up whenever she felt like someone was getting too close to the truth. He got her to open up. He could tell she didn’t often.
Matt chuckled again. He set his cup down, finger away from the brim. “So, Spanish?” he said. “¿Dónde aprendiste tantos idiomas?”
Where did you learn so many languages?
She sucked in a mocking, sharp breath. “Oh, is this the only language you speak?” she asked.
“Sì.”
“Si eso es así, no creo que tenga otra opción. ¿No?”
If that's the case, I don't think I have a choice.
“La verdad es que no.”
Not really, no.
“De donde vengo, aprender más de un idioma es un requisito. Me vi obligado.”
Where I come from, learning more than one language is a requirement. I was forced to.
“Where exactly did you grow up?” he asked, this time in English. His voice had lowered.
Eliza sighed. “Je suppose que vous ne le saurez jamais.”
I guess you’ll never know.
Matt frowned at her. “What was that?”
“French, my friend,” she said.
“Couldn’t have guessed that.”
“Lo sé.”
I know.
Matt cleared his throat then. “Eliza, may I tell you something?” he said.
“Yeah.”
“You’re one of the few truly good people left in this world. Whoever thinks you less than that isn’t worth your time or effort.”
She smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Thanks,” she said. She hoped he couldn’t hear the waiver in her voice. “You’re not so bad yourself, Murdock. I’ve been around some pretty awful people in my life, you’re not one of them.”
He chuckled lightly. “I’m not that good. I’m no good at all.”
“There’s a thin line between good and bad. We’re all walking the tightrope. One step too close to the edge and we might fall over and land on the wrong side. The tightrope is the grey zone, the perfect balance between good and evil – it’s not easy to keep the balance, I’ve learned. I’ve seen good things happen to bad people and vice versa.”
She took a prolonged sip of coffee, then placed the cup back down. She studied his face; where she expected rejection of her words, she only found curiosity. His attention hung on her lips and the sounds she made. The words seemed like the perfect lyrics to a song, and her voice was the only one that fit the key. His silent approval was all she needed to continue.
Eliza moved the cup a few inches to the right, making space for her hands to find his own where they lay crossed between them. He stopped fidgeting, the softness of her skin sending his senses into overdrive. She was so gentle every time she showed him affection, afraid she might scare him, but her actions were far from terrifying. They offered comfort where he only saw darkness. Every time he regretted his decision to come back to her, she did something that proved him wrong. She didn’t know half of who he was – she didn’t know the kind of effect she could have on someone as special as Matt. She was clueless.
She stammered once the warmth of him reached through her skin. “Uh,” she licked her bottom lip frantically. “Is this okay?” she choked out.
Matt tightened his hold. He was afraid uttering a single word would betray him.
“I just- I’m not good with expressions.”
Eliza grew up with little to no physical comfort. She never learned how to talk about her feelings, she never learned how to address personal problems. After she got out, it took a while for her to trust people. Even after she did, talking became a chore. Beyond the facts in her head, there was not much she truly knew. So when she realized she couldn’t possibly tell her friends and family how she felt, she began to find other ways to show her support. She found other ways to express how she felt. Finding metaphors, using her hands to touch whatever limbs she could reach, buying random things that reminded her of the people she cared about and gifting them – Eliza wasn’t the relationship type of girl, but if there was one thing she learned it was that everyone needed love once in a while.
Looking at Matt she realized he didn’t have many people in his life that cared enough to show him they loved him. He couldn’t believe those who loved him in the now because he grew up without love back then. He grew up feeling worthless. He still felt the same most of the time.
When you grow up alone, you get used to it. Back then, you weren’t worth much more, so you surely aren’t worth diamonds now. The past drives us and sometimes the road we’re on leads straight into an abyss, one we can only outrun if we allow others to take care of us.
Eliza could relate to that better than he could’ve possibly imagined.
She ran her thumb over his rough knuckles. “As someone who’s been on either side of that tightrope before, I can assure you, you’re a good person,” she told him. Her lip quipped softly into a smile. “The things I’ve seen, you don’t even want to know. It’s horrifying,” she said. “No one good is ever truly good and no one bad is ever truly bad, but there’s those that have evil in their hearts and then there’s those that want to do good, no matter what, and they treat the people around them accordingly. You fall into the last category.”
Matt exhaled loudly and his breath tickled her skin enough for the small hairs to stand up on goosebumps. His thumb repaid the gesture. “Can you back that up with a source?” he joked.
She almost scoffed. The lack of self-awareness was astounding. “You take on every lost cause you find because you believe in redemption. Maybe because you’re catholic and that’s your thing, I don’t know, but you do it well and you don’t back down until you achieve something. That makes you a good person.”
He emptied his coffee, laughing softly. Just when he opened his mouth to give another – suspected – cheeky answer, Eliza’s phone rang out. Three loud rings in, and ‘Happy’ by Pharrell Williams began to play. Heads turned at the sudden intrusion.
She swiped right as fast as she could. The song stopped playing. “ What ?” she answered.
“Woah!” Happy’s voice rang out. “What is it with you today?”
“What is with you today?” she asked back. “You’ve been annoying me an unhealthy amount in the past, I don’t know, five hours. I’m kinda busy here so what do you want?”
“Are you on coffee withdrawal? Or is it- are you having one of those episodes? The, you know .”
He was somewhere in the compound where it was beyond crowded. She heard orders being shouted on the other end, loud steps just inches away from where Happy was standing.
“What?”
“Do you need me to come and get you?” he asked. “Ice cream, maybe?“
Eliza sighed at his words. No matter how many times she tried to be mad at him, she simply couldn’t. He was too good, never angry, just sometimes really upset. She didn’t doubt for one second that if she’d called and asked him to help her bury a dead body, he would’ve jumped to his feet and been by her side in seconds. Of course, he would’ve made a whole speech about it, but he would never allow her to go to jail.
“What’s up, Happy?” she asked, softer this time.
“A lot is up,” he said.
“Did anyone die?”
“No.”
“Aliens invading New York?”
“What, no!”
“Then why are you calling me during my lunch break? I told you I had errands to run because Tony’s an idiot and doesn’t know how to do his own posting.”
“Now, I know that but shit is going down. Everyone’s, like, going crazy and they’re not good at following orders, so they end up almost bashing each other’s heads in.”
“Then tell them to pull their shit together.”
“I’m trying, but there’s too much stuff, too many people. I can’t do my job if they don’t do theirs.”
“What do you want me to do? I’m out right now. I don’t have time for this. Go ask Pepper if she can get the sticks out of their asses.”
“You’re out?” Happy asked. “Out where?”
“Lunch.” Eliza looked at Matt. She gave him a shy smile. “Which I’d like to get back to, actually,” she said.
“How long can lunch take? You’ve been out for, like, two hours.”
“I met up with someone.”
“With the lawyer guy?”
“Happy-“
“Is he there with you? Is he making you uncomfortable?”
“What? No, he’s not!”
Matt bit his cheek. He didn’t want to smile, he couldn’t. Listening to her phone call wasn’t even something he did intentionally, it just sort of happened.
Happy sighed. “I’m happy that you’re enjoying yourself with someone that isn’t me or a stray cat you pulled from the dumpster, but I’m kinda on my last straw here and I need someone with balls to help me out. Tony is nowhere to be seen and I can’t find Pepper. Please, Liz, help me !” he begged.
She switched eyes between Matt and the street outside the window. Another exasperated sigh left her mouth. “Can’t you just snap their kneecaps or something?” she asked. Matt raised his eyebrows. She covered the speaker with one hand. “I don’t mean that literally,” she told him.
“Snap their kneecaps?” Happy asked. “I can’t even punch without breaking my thumb, what makes you think I can do that? No, I need your little anger-issue ass over here or this party is gonna be a disaster.”
“Jesus! You know what, fine! I’ll come over right now. It’s not like I’ve got a life to live or anything. Don’t worry about me.”
“Oh, thank god! You have no idea how-“
“Save the speech for later. Gotta go. See you in a bit.” She hung up.
“You gotta go?” Matt asked.
She pursed her lips. “I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t apologize. It’s work. We both have to get back to it eventually.”
Eliza shuffled to get her bag. She reached for the wallet stored safely inside, but he placed his hands over hers. “I got it,” he said.
“No,” she insisted. “We can split the bill.“
“No, we can’t. I asked you out, it’s fine. Next time, you ask me out and then you can pay.”
“Next time?” she cocked a curious eyebrow.
He chuckled. “Dinner, maybe?”
“I’m fine with dinner.”
She stood up. He tried to follow her movements with his eyes. She was still standing there, heartbeat suggested she was contemplating. His lip twitched as he tried to figure out what exactly she was contemplating.
Eliza fidgeted with her sleeves. “See you tonight?” she asked, unsure.
“We’ll be there tonight,” he said. “All of us.”
“And then the day after that, you wanna go to, uh, dinner? Do you eat dinner? Of course, you eat dinner. That was stupid. I meant, do you like dinner? Would you be fine with it?”
There it was. The smile fell into laughter. Bubbly, carefree. No, she mistook it; he was giggling. “Yeah, I like dinner,” he said.
She exhaled the breath she’d been holding. “Oh, thank god! I was afraid you might’ve just said that to ease the mood.”
“No, I’d like to do this again, maybe not with your work, my work, Foggy or Karen to interrupt us.”
“You forgot Happy,” she said.
“Right, your bodyguard . I hope he won’t interrupt us again if- when we go to dinner.”
“I’ll just block him.”
They chuckled together.
“Oh, shit!” she realized, “Hey, are you gonna be alright if I leave? I- I mean can you walk back by yourself? I didn’t even think of that.”
“I’ll be fine,” he told her. “I know these streets like the back of my hand. Besides, I remember the turns we took. The way to my office is the easiest for me.”
Eliza watched his face for any indications that he was lying, but she found none. He was as content as always.
“Okay, but um-“ she reached for the phone in his suit jacket. “Here,” - she typed in her number - “Call me when you’re back safe just so I know you’re not dead.”
Matt chuckled. “You worry too much. I’m a big boy, I can take care of myself.”
“Yeah, but you’re gonna ease my conscience. So just contact me once you’re back at the office.”
“Okay, I will.”
“Thank you.”
She still stood awkwardly at the table, Matt sitting with his torso turned in her direction. Neither of them considered making a move, but they didn’t know where to start.
Eliza ended up doing what she previously contemplated. Her hand caressed his cheeks, lips pressed to the soft skin there. He considered moving the missing inch to the right.
“Tonight!” she blurted out. “I’ll see you tonight! At the, uh, party.”
He cleared his throat, straightening his tie – it wasn’t even crooked. “Yeah, see you tonight,” he said.
She almost stumbled over her own feet on her way out. “Call me!” she shouted across the room.
“I will.”
#matt murdock#daredevil#foreigner's god#matt murdock x original character#matt murdock x oc#matt murdock x ofc#matt murdock angst#matt murdock fluff#matt murdock smut#matt murdock x female!oc#karen page#foggy nelson#human disaster matt murdock#matt murdock imagines#canon typical violence#daredevil fic#matt murdock fic#charlie cox#marvel#avengers#reader insert#ofc
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ONESHOT ALERT
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries.
Ship: Klaus x Damon
*saves lover with stealth*
It's been months. A small comment here and there, turned into a complex web of lies. All to save the one man his friends were trying to kill. It started simple, with an extra drink to keep him in the bar, or a comment leading to a brunch date, to keep him from going to the scene of his planned murder. Then it turned into presenting plans to his friends that are bound to fail, establishing every detail in advance to ensure a safe and seemingly coincidental escape for the man he cared for. Finally it escalated into lying to his friends about his location and smuggling the man into his house, where he now lay in his bed with the man wrapped in his arms, out of harm’s way.
Two men walked into a bar, looking for different things. Damon sat down in front of the bartender and asked for two shots of tequila. Klaus talked with some friends before joining the lonely man at the bar.
“Hello Damon, don’t you think you’ve had enough of this for today? You were here a few hours ago.” He spoke in a smooth British accent, while stealing the shot glass from Damon’s hand and downing the addictive substance in one gulp.
“What do you need Klaus? I had a rough day and I am not nearly drunk enough to be having this conversation.” Damon grabbed the second glass from the table.
“I need to know what those wannabes you call friends are planning. And you, my dear Damon, are the perfect source of information. So, care to share?”
Damon knew they were planning something, something big. Stefan had suggested not making the plan location-dependent as past attempts had failed. Tonight, Bonnie, Stefan, Elena, Caroline, Tyler, Jeremy, Matt and Alaric were going on a full-blown manhunt to find Klaus. They would search the entire town, each armed with a white oak stake. The plan was simple; track him down, hide, call the others and everyone pounces on him while one stabs him in the heart. The issue was that Damon couldn’t tell Klaus this as he would seek revenge, but he couldn’t think of a non-obvious place to hide him.
“No plan that I know of.”
“Oh love, my knowledge may be limited when it comes to you, but I can smell a lie from a mile away.”
“I have no clue what you are talking about?” Damon squeezed the glass between his fingers.
“Well then, I’m going to sit here until you tell me all about this super secret plan. Even if I have to force it out of you.”
Damon laughed bitterly, “Then enjoy your stay.” It was foolish, keeping Klaus in an open bar, where he can easily be spotted. He knew that. The search began at nine, it was eight-fifteen. He needed to think of something and fast. He lied to Stefan earlier, telling him that he was unable to participate in the hunt, as he was feeling sick. Stefan was skeptical but let it go.
Then it hit him, he needed Klaus to follow him back to the Salvatore Boarding house. There they would hide in his room as no one really goes up there. He quickly downed the shot, signaling for another. Klaus looked at him, questioning his sudden change in Damon’s demeanor.
“Slow down there, mate. Being drunk makes you easier to compel.” Klaus said after Damon ordered a third short of branded tequila.
Damon had a plan. He needed Klaus to think he was helping him. It wasn’t the brightest idea to get drunk right before an escape plan, but it was necessary. He needed Klaus to take him home for the night and in his drunken state he would convince the wanted man to stay with him.
It needed to be real, so neither Klaus nor Stefan would be suspicious of him. So he downed another shot… and another…. and another. The amber liquid burned his throat with every sip.
Klaus was looking concerned at this point. He would never admit it, but he cared for Damon. They had spent the last few months drinking together, eating together and chatting to each other about common things.
Klaus was oblivious to Damon’s friends’ attempts on his life and Damon shielded him from the violence. It was getting more difficult by the day but Damon didn’t care, he needed to save his friend.
He was getting tipsy, swaying in his seat and starting drunken conversations with Klaus. After every shot, his words became more jumbled and slurred and the discussions became weirder. After fourteen shots, he couldn’t walk straight and it was eight-fifty. He jumped up off the stool, slammed a one hundred dollar bill on the countertop and made his way to the exit. Klaus grabbed his arm, steadying him and keep him from going too far.
Damon stumbled forward, dragging Klaus with him into the woodland behind the bar. He couldn’t go back to the boarding house through the town, they would be spotted. Klaus squeezed his arm, stopping Damon in his tracks.
“Hey, where are you going? Your car is still there.” Klaus was concerned at this point.
“It’s fine, I’ll get it in the morning. W-walk with me?” Damon grabbed Klaus’ hand, dragging him further.
The forest was smelled like rain, it was refreshing to be away from the smoke of the town. Every fallen leaf crunched under their soles as they walked together. Every so often Damon tripped over the root of a big tree or a tall branch that had fallen. Klaus managed to catch him almost every time. Even in this drunken state, Damon had enough sense of direction to know where he was going. Klaus on the other hand was completely lost, to him every single tree looked the same.
Klaus gave up on asking questions. He just clasped Damon’s hand and let him lead the way. The chatting started up again after a while and the sound of their voices mixed in with the sounds of the forest. Every silent moment was eerie, so Klaus was thankful for every noise Damon made.
After twenty minutes, the back of an old building came into view, the Salvatore Boarding House. Damon shakily strolled over to the house, Klaus followed while making sure Damon didn’t fall. Damon pressed an ear against the wall, listening for the sound of a heartbeat. It was silent. He smiled and trotted over to the front door.
Klaus was lead into the house and hauled up the stairs into Damon’s room. Damon collapsed onto the bed, immediately reaching for Klaus as the warm hand left Damon’s upper arm.
“Stay… please?” He hadn’t forgotten about his plan, but this reaction to Klaus was real. Drunk but real.
Klaus chuckled and sat next to Damon on the bed. “Well, if we are going to sleep together, we might as well get more comfortable.” He took off his shirt and threw it to the floor. Damon started with discarding his shoes first and getting rid of his belt. Klaus followed soon after.
“If you are about to tell me you sleep with a shirt on, you are a fucking liar.” Damon laughed at the remark and took off his shirt.
He slipped in under the covers and dragged Klaus in with him. He wrapped his arms around the older man’s waist keeping him still. His head rested against Klaus’ chest.
Klaus looked down at him and draped him arm over Damon, returning the hug. Damon grinned against his chest.
After a few minutes, Klaus was asleep. Damon was still struggling. He held his loved one close, listening to the slow and steady heartbeat of the hybrid. Just seven hours, then the hunt would be over. He could do this.
He found himself laying there for the next few hours, awake but not daring to move. He couldn’t sleep, not with the danger lurking outside. The danger he couldn’t prevent.
He bathed in the heat Klaus’ body provided and smiled every time he heard Klaus take a breath. It was nice laying there, next to the man he loved. But he hadn't admitted that to anyone yet, not even himself.
He leaned over, catching a glimpse of the red numbers on the screen next to Klaus. It was almost seven already. It didn’t feel like ten hours had passed, but he knew it wasn’t unlikely. The manhunt was over, he could relax. So he fell asleep for the first time in 25 hours.
BANG-
Damon fell on the floor with Klaus tumbling down onto him. Both men groaned. Damon looked up to see Elijah and Stefan looking down at him. He gave them a sheepish smile as Klaus got up off of him.
“Damon, what are you doing?! Did you sleep with him too?” Stefan was yelling at him, a weekly thing these days.
Damon and Klaus laughed at him before Klaus responded, “Unfortunately not.” That earned him a punch to the arm.
“Niklaus, why are you here?” Elijah asked calmly.
“I dragged him here, through the woods. Sorry, I kinda stole him.”
“It’s fine, great in fact. For the first time ever, Nik looks like he actually slept. Damon, I’m impressed.” Rebekah told him with a smile, making her presence known.
Stefan was livid. He knew something was up, but he never could’ve expected this. His greatest enemy… in his brother’s bed.
“How dare you?!” Damon knew Stefan was angry but he couldn’t admit to trying to kill Klaus in a room with three Originals. Damon was thankful as he was not ready for Stefan's righteousness speech, he was going to get later.
“It was you…”, Stefan spoke quietly with shaky breaths in between, “It was you every single damn time… how could you do this to us, your friends. How could you do this to me?!” Stefan was almost laughing.
“Listen, Stef, I’m sorry. I needed to do something…”
Klaus was beyond confused, he shared a glance with his siblings before stepping between the Salvatore brothers as Stefan slowly approached Damon. “What did Damon do?”
Stefan snapped.
“He saved you! That’s what he did. We were planning your demise for months now! And every damn time, Damon saved you! He kept you from going to the old witches house on the night of the 23rd. He kept you from staying at your house on the morning of the 16th. He kept you from approaching the bridge on the 20th. He kept you from following Rebekah at the party on the 5th. And now he took you to the place he knew we wouldn’t look, while we were tearing the town apart looking for you! He ruined every plan we had and he did it so flawlessly, it looked spontaneous. He was there for most of the attempts and yet with a text, a call or a voice message he ruined every single one. We thought it was a coincidence that you never showed up where you were supposed to, but now I see the truth. And I will rip him apart!”
Klaus couldn’t believe it. This man saved his life so many times and he didn’t even notice. He turned to look at Damon. The man just nodded at him. No expression was visible on his face.
“A little help here?” Rebekah’s voice broke the silence in the room as she stood in front of Stefan, keeping him from ripping Damon to shreds. Elijah stepped in, helping his little sister. They dragged Stefan out of the room, shutting the door behind them, leaving the two alone.
“So every time you invited me to the Grill or to go on a roadtrip with you, you were saving me? Dragging me away, so your friends won’t get to me?” Klaus asked bewildered.
“Not every time, but most of them, yeah.”
“Why? Why would you save someone like me?”
“What do you mean ‘like you’ ?”
“Damon, I kill people because I’m bored. I don’t deserve this, what did I do to make you save me? I tried to kill you multiple times. I took your brother away. I sacrificed the woman you love to break a curse that only affects me. I nearly killed your best friend by possessing him for a month. I would’ve used your friends in that sacrifice if it wasn’t for you and I made you pay for my drink. And yet you saved my life more times than I almost took yours.”
“Stop making me sound like an idiot. I saved you because you didn’t try to change me. Every night I sleep here, I am made out to be the bad guy. They keep asking me to change myself to fit their needs. When I talk to you, I can be honest, share my opinions, voice my thoughts without being judged… without being told to change for someone else. You actually enjoy my company.”
Klaus smashed his lips onto Damon’s, wrapping his arms around his waist. Damon grinned into the kiss. He was successful.
#oneshot#klaus mikaelson#tvd damon#tvd oneshot#damon salvatore#gay men#lgbt pride#why am i like this
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Choose the Right Countertops for Your Kitchen
New Post has been published on https://thekitchnpro.com/choose-the-right-countertops-for-your-kitchen/
Choose the Right Countertops for Your Kitchen
Countertops! You have a huge number of options to choose from. If you walk into any home improvement store, you’ll probably see at least two dozen different types of countertops. This can be overwhelming, but it doesn’t have to be! Here are the basics on how to choose the right countertops for your kitchen or bathroom.
-Typically there are three main types of countertops material: natural stone, wood, and man-made composites such as laminates. Each material has its own benefits and drawbacks depending on budget and style.
-The easiest material to maintain is a laminate countertop because they don’t stain easily and all scratches can be easily buffed out with a damp cloth. A disadvantage is that laminates cannot withstand heat from ovens or dishwashers.
-If you want to add character with organic materials but also need durability, then stone is an excellent choice for its resistance to heat and other abuse while still being easy to maintain because it does not require sealing as marble does.
Granite Countertops
Granite is one of several types of solid-surface countertop materials. Solid surfaces, which include granite, quartz, and engineered stone, are durable and easy to maintain. However, they’re also more expensive than laminate and manufactured stone countertops. To find out if a solid surface is a good choice for your home or business, here’s what you need to know about each type:
Granite: Granite has natural variations in color and texture that make it an attractive option for the kitchen and bathroom counters. It’s hard but not as hard as engineered stone; however, it can be damaged by acidic foods or cleaners. Granite tends to cost more than other solid-surface materials because it requires careful cutting and shaping during installation. But it still considered a fairly affordable countertop option.
Quartz: Quartz offers many of the same benefits as granite, including low maintenance and high durability. The material has been popular since roughly 2010 because of its timeless appeal. It can be found in different colors ranging from neutral whites to reddish hues. Quartz does require sealing, but it doesn’t stain easily, unlike some woods.
Quartz Countertops
Before you dive into your quartz countertop project, it’s important to learn about different types of quartz and their pros and cons. Different types of quartz include brushed, polished, matte, vintage-finish, and high-gloss. You can also choose between solid or engineered quartz. Another thing to consider is whether you want commercial or residential grade; most homeowners will opt for residential grade for its durability at an affordable price point. However, if you’re planning on selling your home anytime soon (within three years), commercial-grade may be worth splurging on since it won’t show signs of wear as quickly.
If cost isn’t a factor, other considerations might be aesthetic appeal and ease of maintenance. Ultimately, determining which type of quartz countertop is best for you comes down to personal preference. To help make your decision easier, use our guide below to compare the pros and cons of each type. Once you have decided on what type of quartz countertop is best for your budget and lifestyle, move on to choosing a color. Then find out how much does it cost to install quartz countertops in five easy steps.
Marble Countertops
Granite is considered to be one of, if not the most popular type of stone used for kitchen and bathroom counters. With thousands of colors, patterns, and textures available it’s no wonder that granite is so popular. However, some people prefer other types of stone over granite because granite can be quite expensive and they want a more unique look.
If you fall into that category then take a look at these other types of stone that are also used in kitchens and bathrooms. And while we’re on the subject don’t forget about quartz countertops. Quartz isn’t technically a stone but rather man-made material made from silicon dioxide (sand). It does look like a solid surface or marble and is almost always more affordable than actual stone options like granite or marble.
No matter what type of stone you choose though make sure to consider maintenance issues before buying your new kitchen or bathroom countertops. Maintenance requirements vary widely depending on which kind of stone you choose. Stone counters require periodic resealing by professional contractors who coat them with clear sealants; unless you enjoy doing things like that yourself I would recommend against using stone as your primary choice of countertop material. No matter what kind of budget you have though there’s definitely a good choice out there for anyone looking to update their home’s kitchen or bathroom!
Concrete Countertops
Concrete is a versatile and robust material that’s easy to work with. Formed from cement, water, and aggregate materials such as pebbles or recycled glass, concrete has a number of distinct advantages over other kitchen countertop options. It can be used for large solid slabs or as thin tiles affixed to plywood or particleboard.
Lightweight and durable, it’s also easy to clean and maintain—so you won’t need to seal it as often as some other surfaces. But if your goal is to create a unique piece of architecture, consider some options for decorative finishes on top of your concrete slab: You can opt for colored cement or paint that provides a consistent look throughout. Or add texture by placing multiple layers of matte-finish stucco and sealing them together. The possibilities are nearly endless when it comes to creating your own custom style, whatever you choose.
There are a few guidelines worth following: Always choose natural stones like granite or marble over-engineered stone products. While engineered stones may seem cheaper initially, they tend to have inferior qualities in appearance and durability after installation (not to mention environmental factors). Engineered stones don’t hold up well against wear-and-tear as natural ones do; at least half will crack within 5 years of installation due to their soft composition.
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weekend work
it’s the busiest month of the year - i’m doing work on the weekend so that i’m not bothered by emails coming in and i can actually focus on meeting deadlines. this busy month was specifically tough this year due to all the changes in series (voluntary, GSR, and housestaff specifically).
the anticipatory anxiety that i experience is always worse than the actual event. the red eye was more than fine. the subway was more than fine. meeting with a group of work friends was more than fine. being alone in my apartment is more than fine. i’m now having some anxiety about my therapy session on monday, as it will be my first time doing a video call for individual therapy. i always hid behind texting or phone calls. i’m “prepping” myself by finding negative things that i want to bring up which is most likely not helpful.
B officially asked me to be her bridesmaid. we are texting a lot more often, and working to be on better terms. i’ve let go of any hard feelings.
the newlyweds R&T are planning a move to NYC in two months! yay for having more friends in the area. we’ll be meeting matt’s friend H for dinner tonight and couple A&H will be visiting sometime next week so i’ll most likely meet with them too.
update: i had my first therapy video call with joel, an old white man from florida. i found it easier to talk to a male; he was really calm, and made me more introspective. he even poked some fun at me because my worries can be a bit ridiculous. he recommended i read a book called the worry trick, which i ordered immediately after the session. since i was young, i’ve always liked a sense of harmony and peace, which often means i stay complacent or i shut myself out from new stimuli or challenges. however, the new stimuli and challenges are usually what makes life more interesting and fulfilling, and i am robbing myself of that. there’s a lot more i want to explore in therapy and am excited for our session next week.
regarding anxiety, he gave me an analogy of being in the woods and seeing a bear. will i stay calm in this scenario, or will i start a scene, run away and have the bear chase after me? we are often faced with uncomfortable challenges. we can choose to see the challenge as it is, or intensify the situation and make it worse than it needs to be. another analogy was having a headache. when we have a headache, will we take the necessary actions (rest, drink water, go for a walk), or will we start freaking out believing that it’s a brain tumor and make the situation worse?
after completing my degree, my life in nyc has become lackluster, and i understand my dread. my remote work offers some purpose and pays the bills, but it is overall quite boring and doesn’t offer excitement. i immediately wanted to run back home to the comfort of family and friends. there’s nothing wrong with this, but i think i can learn to grow to be independent as well. i’d like to move back not on a whim and worry (of like omg, what do i do with myself now), but rather, a feeling of contentment and readiness.
it’s a weird transition, kind of like i don’t want to start anything new (including new friendships) because i know i’ll be leaving in the next half year or so. but i still have to continue to look forward to things, meet new people, and continue living life in general with the understanding that i am still here NOW. that being said, the next things i’m interested are: running club, more hot yoga, checking out more coffee shops, possibly pursuing a CPA, and cherishing the time we have left with our current friends.
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ok so i try to not be negative or call Critical Role (or Matt’s writing) out for being ~Problematic~ ...but Matt my dude you can’t name a monster/villain that, EVEN AS A LAST NAME. Like. That’s LEGIT RACIALLY HARMFUL ....i really really really super hope i just seriously misheard Ira’s last name bc its dark out and im jumpy. bc if i heard right i WILL post abt the issue w it and i dont like that Matt would do that.
#critical role spoilers#critical role liveblog#also w Robbie here????#that is SERIOUSLY NOT OK#it was easier to take Matt's White Man Things#when it was my place (as a jewish person) to keep going along w it#but with this i am just kind of#he really needs to take a fucking long look in the mirror#matt mercer critical#god maybe i just misheard and this isnt anything i hope so#did anyone catch a text view of Ira's full name who can help me
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Coffee Shop Woes
Part 2: First Date Jitters
Part 3: Late Night Confessions
Matt Murdock x AFAB Reader
Word Count: 3900
Summary: You’re pretty sure you want to have his babies, but you don’t even know his name. Maybe you’ll actually speak to him next time you see him, but it’s unlikely. Very unlikely.
Trigger warning: the devastation that is Matt Murdock's charm.
Masterlist
You see him every Tuesday.
This little coffee shop, in the heart of Hell's Kitchen, had become your favorite place to frequent for your mid-morning pick me up shortly after you had moved to New York. You found yourself there often, sneaking away from the office for a small chunk of time to grab a latte and one of their to die for blueberry muffins. It was just a few blocks away from where you worked, and the quick walk usually provided enough time to shake off the drowsiness that set in from an 8am boring as all fuck team meeting.
One morning, you had stumbled into the shop half an hour later than usual, bleary eyed and head pounding from staring at too many spreadsheets, only to see him there, calmly waiting on his cup of coffee. Dark hair, a devastatingly charming smile, and dark red glasses you'd sell your digity for to see behind.
He had been flirting with the barista, his ever-so-slightly raspy baritone floating through the shop, and you had struggled to remember your own coffee order, clumsily spitting it out to the woman behind the register. Before you could even finish paying, he had his fresh coffee in his hand, and was making his way to leave, white cane tapping on the floor in front of him. Someone opened the door for him, and he was gone.
If you stared longingly after him, people were polite enough to ignore it.
Despite your frequency at the coffee shop, it took a few weeks for you to nail down his routine.
He was there every Tuesday around the 10 o'clock hour. You had adjusted your schedule slightly to fit his, hoping to catch a glimpse of him when you could. Sometimes you were there before him, sometimes he was on his way out as you watched from half a block away, but for the most part, you got to see his stupidly handsome face for at least a few seconds.
It was barely enough to get you through the day, and by the following Tuesday, you were more than ready for your weekly fix sighting of him.
You often had to remind yourself that following him to his next destination would be borderline stalker behavior, and the last thing you wanted was a restraining order from the man of all your dreams and dirty fantasies.
For five long weeks, you waited for someone to randomly blurt out his name, or for him to introduce himself to someone close by so that you could overhear it. This seemed to be the best way to learn it, you reasoned, as you were too chicken shit to actually say a word to the man.
Like you, he was a regular at the coffee shop. The baristas seemed to know him well, and when he ordered his drink, they never needed to call his name out when it was ready. But one day, much to your ever-lasting happiness, a new barista asked him his name while taking down his order, and you had arrived just in time to hear him give it.
Matthew.
Names shouldn't carry so much on its shoulders, but his held your heart, and it didn't even know it.
You cursed the traitorous muscle that beat inside your chest.
You found yourself mouthing his name, standing a few people behind him in line, a helplessly dopey smile on your face that you're sure looked absolutely ridiculous, and you didn't notice the way his head tilted slightly in your direction as he handed the woman his credit card.
For months you found yourself watching him. You felt like it was on the edge of creepy, but you told yourself that coming to this coffee shop had already been your Tuesday routine, long before you had seen him for the first time. You were able to pine from afar, made all the way easier by the fact that he couldn't actually see you do it.
You weren't sure if that made your pining more or less creepy, now that you thought about it.
"You could always just talk to him, you know," Brittany said to you one time as she made your latte.
"What?" Your eyes snapped up to her face from your phone, the Facebook personality quiz you'd been taking momentarily forgotten.
"Oh, please," she laughed. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. Your heart eyes are so obvious it hurts."
Horrified, you looked at her, feeling the blood draining from your face. "Did he...? Did you...what do you mean by that?"
"You come here every Tuesday like clockwork, and I see you scan the shop for him every damn time. I can't decide if it's pathetic or adorable," she snickered. She finished making your drink before handing it to you from across the counter. "Maybe you should actually talk to him some time. He's a nice guy. Single, in case you're wondering."
"What...I don't...how would you even know that?" You demanded, trying to come across as nonchalant and failing miserably.
"Because sometimes his friend Foggy comes in with him, and that man is always trying to set Matt up with whatever barista is working."
"Oh."
"He's always joking, of course, but you can tell deep down that he's kinda serious. Seems Matt has probably been single for a while."
"How is a man like that perpetually single?" You asked incredulously. "You've seen his face, right? The gods sculpted that jawline themselves. The gods, Brittany."
Brittany snickered. "And that suit isn't hiding anything. You can just tell he's probably ripped underneath."
You groaned. "Ugh, I know. I've spent too much time staring at those straining buttons on his button-up."
"Same here, my friend."
You shook your head at her, a look on your face that could only be described as exasperated, even as you smiled. "Was your point to get me worked up before going back to work? Or was it to point out that he's extraordinarily out of my league?"
Brittany shrugged her shoulders, grinning. "My point was that Matt's a flirt, but he's not seeing anyone. Shoot your shot. He may not be able to see you undressing him with your eyes, but everyone else can. Maybe it's time to do something about it."
You nodded your head awkwardly, before making a beeline for the front door, cursing Brittany for putting dangerous thoughts in your head. To your horror, the man in question entered the coffee shop on your way out, and you audibly squeaked before stepping around him, avoiding his cane as it tapped in front of him. Brittany's laugh followed you out the door.
In the following weeks, even as you continued to bury your head in the sand when it came to the man you secretly hoped would father your children, you couldn't help but ask Brittany what she knew about him.
"You really should just ask him yourself," she flat out laughed at you.
Rude.
"Come on, Brittany," you groaned. "You know I have the social skills of pre-7th year Neville Longbottom. I am awkward as all fuck and my flirting skills are non-existent."
She snorted.
"I think you can manage a hello, at the very least."
"Please," you all but begged her. It definitely wasn't your proudest moment. "Just a tiny bit of additional information so I know what I'm dealing with."
"Fine," she said with a look of fond exasperation as she handed another patron their coffee. "He's a lawyer, has his own practice with his friends. Known around here as someone who takes cases regardless if the person can pay all the legal fees. Just wants to make sure people have full representation, even if they can't always afford it."
"So he's attractive and an actual good person. That's just.. perfect. Why couldn't he be an asshole?" You resisted the urge to smack your head on the counter, repeatedly. "That would make things easier."
"Would him being an asshole make you stop staring at him like you want to have him for dinner and dessert?"
"Absolutely not."
Brittany laughed again, certainly taking no pity on your apparent misery. "Just talk to him. You never know."
The coffee shop was large enough to avoid speaking and bumping into people, so it justified your reasoning for not striking up a conversation with the man. And despite Brittany's teasing encouragement, it was two more weeks before you actually said anything to him.
To be fair, speaking with him that random Tuesday morning hadn't necessarily been by choice, so you couldn't take credit for the idea. For all of Brittany's nudging, you were still far too shy to say anything.
You entered the coffee shop, unsurprised to see a line ahead of you, and were disappointed to see that Matt wasn't there. Perhaps you had missed him, and you mourned the loss. Sighing, sad that you were doomed to go without your weekly dose of Matthew, you tried not to show the disappointment on your face, knowing would Brittany notice and mercilessly call you out on it.
When it was your turn to order, you took a step forward towards the counter, smiling at Natalie, the young woman behind the register. She greeted you by name, throwing a smile your way, but stopped you before you could place your order.
"So, our credit card system is down right now," she said apologetically. "We've tried rebooting it a few times, but it's still causing issues. Are you able to pay with cash?"
The bell on the door chimed behind you as it opened, but you didn't pay any attention to it.
Your hand reached into your purse and immediately dug out your wallet, frowning when you realized you didn't have any cash stuffed in it. You sighed internally as you looked back up at her. "Uh...no. I don't have cash on me. Do you happen to know where the nearest ATM is?"
"No need," a familiar baritone interrupted Natalie before she could answer. "I've got it."
You didn't need to turn around to know who had just spoken. Days, weeks, months of fantasizing and memorizing that voice had made sure of that.
Your heart skipped a beat, a strangled noise unwillingly clawing its way out of your throat.
Slowly, you spun around to face him, noting the wide smile on his lips and your reflection in his red glasses. He stood a few inches taller than you, just under six feet, and his tie was ever so slightly crooked.
It was so downright charming that you almost hated him for it. Almost.
"No, no, it's ok," you rushed to get out once you finished not-so subtly running your eyes over his lean, but clearly muscled frame. Did he have to fill it out so good? Jesus. "You don't have to do that. It's fine, I'll just go grab cash."
"Or you could just buy me a cup of coffee next time you're in here at 10am," he shrugged, his fingers already opening up his wallet as he leaned around you to rest his cane against the counter. Your eyes widened at the implication behind his words.
"How would you-"
"How would I even know you're in here?" He asked, eyebrows raised, sly grin on his lips. "I'm good at picking out voices and recognizing them. You're always here on Tuesdays, too, and oddly enough, usually at the same time as me."
"It's a coincidence."
"I'm sure it is." He was smirking.
You hesitated slightly, before you slowly put your wallet back in your purse, gulping loudly. You were glad he couldn't see the way your blush had spread to your chest, and the way your hands were shaking noticeably.
He had just completely called you out on your (apparently) pathetic stalker-like tendencies and you were absolutely reeling.
Matt's smile widened even further, as if he knew some secret you didn't. "So, are you gonna let me buy you a cup of coffee?"
"I...yeah, if you're sure." You turned back to Natalie and placed your normal order, before swinging back to him. "Thank you, truly."
He waved it away. "No issue at all."
Unsure of what to do next (Should you continue the conversation? Should you move to Antarctica in hopes he'd forget how awkward you are?), you moved out of the way so that he could order. You waited over to the side as Brittany made your drink, an amused glance thrown your way. She wiggled her eyebrows at you, mouthing a sly "make your move" before she turned around to grab something on the shelf behind her. You glared at her back, heart still hammering in your chest.
Christ, you really were that obvious, weren't you?
A white cane clicked on the ground to your right and you looked away from the barista, noticing that Matt had come to stand next to you. He was without his suit jacket today, and you couldn't help but...want. The sleeves on his button-up were rolled up to his elbows, and you eyed his toned forearms in appreciation.
Even while your head was spinning, you felt the warmth of desire spread down your spine. The man inhaled sharply, but shook his head slightly before opening his mouth to speak.
"So," he began, head tilted in your direction. His cheeks were a little flushed now, too, and you watched as his lips curved into a smile. You briefly wondered what else those lips could do. "Do I get go know the name of the girl who is always checking me out?"
Whatever you had been expecting to come out of his mouth, it certainly wasn’t that.
"W-what?" You sputtered. Eyes widening, cheeks flushing, you stared at him in alarm, all lustful images abruptly exiting your brain. You were glad you weren't drinking your coffee already, or else it would be all over the floor as you choked. "What are you talking about? I don't...I haven't...why would you think I'm always checking you out?"
"It's just a feeling that I have."
"I don't think you're talking to the right person," you objected weakly as you shifted from foot to foot awkwardly. His grin sharpened.
"Oh, I'm positive I am."
You heard Brittany snort, and your eyes snapped to her. She refused to look at you, but you could see the way she was snickering and shaking her head.
Your eyes narrowed even as your panic flared up again.
"Brittany told you."
"Brittany told me," he confirmed, shoulders shaking as he downright giggled.
"God damn it, what a traitor," you swore. Brittany was still laughing, and you had to resist throwing your phone at her. "Why is this happening?"
"She said something about a pretty girl always staring at me, but who was too shy to say anything," he smirked, and even while your horror continued to flare up underneath your skin, you felt a twinge of relief, grateful he couldn't see the grimace on your heated face. "I thought maybe I should buy you a cup of coffee sometime, to at least put you out of your misery."
"How kind of you," you said dryly. You internally begged Brittany to make your latte faster before you died of embarrassment right there in the coffee shop.
He carried on as if you hadn't said anything. "But it turns out that I like listening to the sound of your voice anyway, and I think maybe I'd like to hear it more often."
"Oh God, you totally say that to all the girls, don't you?"
"I plead the fifth," he responded easily, but he didn't deny it. You squinted your eyes at him.
"So that's a yes, then."
"Doesn't mean I'm not being honest," he told you teasingly. His body was turned completely towards yours now, no longer just at your side. You couldn't help but shiver under his complete focus, feeling like he was observing you with an intensity you hadn't felt before as he lay the full weight of his charm at your feet.
"You sure are a smooth talker," you accused him. You were still blushing ridiculously, to Brittany's utter delight. You were never going to hear the end of this.
"So I've been told." Matt continued to grin. "So, dinner?"
Your eyes bugged out of your head as you gaped at him.
"D-dinner? You literally just asked what my name is like 30 seconds ago." You cleared your throat audibly, trying to sound indifferent but failing miserably. "Moving a little fast, don't you think?"
He laughed. "I already know your name actually, I was just trying to be polite about it and not come across as weird."
"You're not doing a very good job." You hated the way your voice shook, mentally berating yourself for how socially inept you were. The man couldn't see, but you were 100% sure he knew the effect he was having on you.
"As if you don't already know my name," he scoffed in a good natured fashion.
You objected immediately. "That's not the point! You're the one using all the pick-up lines on me, here."
God, how embarrassing.
"I get the feeling you're enjoying it though," he shrugged as your jaw dropped even lower in indignation. For all of your apparent protests, you knew that he was right, and it wasn't fair that he knew it, too. "Italian? Seafood? I also have a few amazing pizza places up my sleeve."
"At this point I'll be shocked if you don't have my phone number already since you apparently know all my secrets."
"Now that's just pushing it," he said, no doubt aware of the irony. "I want to respect boundaries, of course." His sly grin told you he was only half joking.
"Of course," you muttered, bemused. The man shook his head and took a small step closer to you. You fought against your impulse to take a step back. Being in the same coffee shop as him was one thing, but him being within arm's reach was another, and you were having a difficult time adjusting. Vaguely, you wondered if he could feel the heat of near humiliation radiating off of you.
"But seriously," Matt said when you went quiet for a moment, toning down the flirtatious smile on his lips, though it didn't disappear entirely. You found yourself staring at the ridiculously adorable dimple on his cheek, almost hating how he had you completely under his thumb without realizing it. "I'd love to take you to dinner, if you're interested. Or drinks, if that works better. No pressure if not."
"Do you ask out every girl that you find out has a crush on you?" You had no idea how you'd ended up here, the man you had been ogling for months suddenly giving you his undivided attention. If you'd been asked how you imagined your day going, this would not ever be on your list of possible scenarios.
You'd have ranked a second alien invasion of New York City higher on the list of possibilities before ever imaging something like this would happen, despite being in the general vicinity as him every Tuesday.
"No," he shook his head, his cocky grin back on his face, "just the ones who alter their schedule just to catch a glimpse of me. Who am I to deny you a chance to see me in a different setting?"
"Oh my god," you moaned in horror, hands reaching up to cover your face. "This can't be happening."
"It's cute." He continued to smile brightly. You watched him grab your drinks from the barista through your fingers. He handed you yours.
"It's embarrassing," you grumbled.
"Let's agree to disagree," he remarked cheerfully.
You were silent, willing the floor to open up and swallow you whole. Matt observed your silence, tongue peaking out to lick his lips, as if suddenly nervous. If you hadn't been so flustered, you would have found it endearing, but as it was, you were completely overwhelmed.
Matt had caught on to that, it seemed.
"Tell you what," he said suddenly. "I've put you on the spot, I know. If all you want this to be is a stranger buying you a cup of coffee, no hard feelings. But if you'd like to go out sometime, have Brittany give you my number. We can go from there." He gave you one last warm smile before taking a long sip of his coffee, and turned and left. You didn't say goodbye, too distracted by the way his mouth had curled around the lip of the coffee cup.
What the f-
Still in a haze, you stood there in the coffee shop, mouth slightly open, unsure of what the hell had just happened. Brittany called out your name suddenly and you jumped, forcing yourself to snap back to the present. Waggling her eyebrows, she waved a slip of paper, a series of digits written on it in black ink, forming what you knew would be his phone number.
"I hate you," you said halfheartedly, willing the flames in your cheeks to settle down. You knew you looked like a lobster with how bright your face was burning.
"No, you don't," she denied in a sing-song voice. "I just gave you the man of your dreams. I'll accept a bottle of my favorite wine as my thank you gift, and an amazing basket full of artisan cheeses and crackers."
You opened your mouth to argue, but you caught sight of the gentle encouragement in her eyes, buried beneath her smug grin. Your objection to the whole situation slowed to a stop as you considered it for a moment. Shoot your shot, her words echoed in your head.
Fuck it.
You took a deep breath, straightened your spine, and ignored the voice in the back of your head that was telling you to run. With a wave of newfound determination, you strode forward, taking the paper from its position between her fingers, and ignored the exaggerated wink she threw your way.
"Get it girl," you heard her call out to as you left the coffee shop. "Don't forget to name your first born after me!"
To your credit, you made it all the way to your office before dialing the number, heart pounding in your throat. And if you'd made it back there faster than usual, knocking into at least two old women in your haste, you didn't acknowledge it.
The phone rang only twice before he picked it up, but each second felt like a lifetime as you nervously bit at the hang nail on your thumb.
"This is Murdock."
God, his voice still managed to hit you like a brick over the phone. How would you ever recover from this man? You were in trouble already, and had been from that first Tuesday all those months ago.
Words were monetarily caught in your throat, unable to get out, but you pushed past the nerves that had seized your body and been put into hyperdrive since he had offered to buy your latte.
"Hey, it's me...uh, the girl always awkwardly staring at you in the coffee shop that you apparently knew about the whole time," you rambled. You heard a brief huff of laughter from the other end. "So...dinner?"
A beat of silence, but when he finally answered, you could practically feel his smirk of satisfaction.
"I'd love to."
----
5 months later
"So, wait...you're telling me that you always knew when I was in the coffee shop, or if I had already left?"
"Yes."
"Because of your super duper sense of smell?"
"This answer is also yes."
"And you could hear my voice from blocks away?"
"Still yes."
"So you could always hear the way I professed my undying love for you and your chest."
"Yes, and those were absolutely my favorite conversations to listen in on."
"You have absolutely no shame."
"None at all."
"God, this is embarrassing. All those times I thought I was getting away with stealthily admiring you from afar."
"In case you're wondering, I could also hear your heart rate spike whenever you looked my way, or smell how aroused you were when you-"
"Shut UP."
We all know Matt Murdock is a smooth, charming son of a bitch when he wants to be
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#daredevil#human disaster matt murdock#marvel#i love him your honor#matt murdock#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock x AFABReader#x reader#matt murdock x you#fanfiction#matt murdock's charm#meet cute
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I'll Always Find You
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Febuwhump Prompt - Kidnapped
Prompt - ‘Some things you don't have to promise. You just do.’
The city lights blurred together as you sat in the car, unsure exactly how you ended up there, unsure how you had let Karen talk you into heading upstate with her and Ben. She hadn’t told you much, told Ben even less from the sounds of it, but you knew it involved Fisk and that was enough for you.
Ever since that man had come onto the scene it felt like everything around you had started falling apart. Matt had become distant, everytime Fisk’s name was brought up he’d turn away from the conversation and shut himself off. You knew something was wrong with him, hell it didn’t take a genius to piece that together what with all the bruises and cuts and the sneaking around.
Maybe that’s why it hadn’t taken much convincing on Karen’s half to get you to tag along to some care facility.
Meeting Fisk’s mom wasn’t what you had expected from the visit though, neither was finding out that Fisk had murdered his own father but you knew the information was useless, whilst Karen excitedly chattered on about how this was the edge you needed to bring Fisk down you sat in the back of the car knowing full well the information from an old woman with dementia was unusable.
That didn’t mean you were going to give up but you knew that getting anything on Fisk wouldn’t be legal and as much as you loved Matt and Foggy you didn’t believe in their plan to take fisk down using the law. It was shockingly easy to find the right people hanging around in shady areas, even easier to get them talking, though the firm of Nelson and Murdock would definitely be seeing an influx of criminals seeking their promised legal representation.
You already knew a fair bit about Fisk from what Ben had collected with the help of the Man in the Mask and even though the people you had spoken to tonight hadn’t given much new information, they had fit a few of the missing pieces together for you.
Night had fallen, the streets of Hell’s Kitchen felt eerily silent as you made your way through them. On the walk back to your apartment you frowned but resisted the urge to turn around when it felt like somebody was following you.
You took a deep breath in an attempt to control your breathing before making a detour and decided to head to Matt’s apartment instead, it was closer than yours and you knew he wouldn’t mind you showing up, especially if he knew you didn’t feel safe.
As you walked you pulled your phone out of your pocket as casually as you could and typed a text to Matt, if you were being followed you didn’t want them to know you were onto them.
I think somebody is following me - five minutes from your apartment.
You hadn’t passed a single person and nothing seemed out of place but yet you couldn’t push the feeling of being watched away and practically melted in relief as you ran across the street over to Matt’s building.
Just as you grabbed the door handle you let out a hiss of pain as you felt yourself being pressed against the door, somebody grabbing your arm and bending it painfully behind your back before placing a gun on the small of your back.
“Let’s take a drive,” A voice said in your ear before you were dragged back and a piece of white cloth was being held to your mouth and try as you might all you could do was breathe it in.
You didn’t know how much time had passed from you being drugged to waking up though you had yet to open your eyes, trying your best to figure out your surroundings without alerting anybody who was in the room that you were awake. It was impossible though, the room was silent, no groans of pipes, no echos for you to try and figure out what size room you were in.
Finally you opened your eyes, blinking harshly against the sudden dizziness.
“You’re awake,” A steady voice said from opposite you causing you to pry your eyes open to see the man who had come to Nelson and Murdock however long ago, the man you now knew to be Fisk’s right hand man.
You swallowed against the lump in your throat, trying to show you weren’t scared but not doing a great job hiding it, desperately hoping Matt had gotten your text and realised something had happened.
“You’ve been very,” Wesley said, trailing off with a wave of his hand, “troublesome regarding my employers- excuse me Mr Fisk’s cause.”
You couldn’t help but smirk at that, long nights researching into Fisk, getting files that weren’t exactly legal and noticing money trails, hell if Karen hadn’t found those files on his mom first it was only a matter of time before you found them yourself.
“Can’t say I’m disappointed to learn that.” You told him smugly, moving your hands against the restraints tying you to the chair.
“No, I didn’t suppose you would be.” Wesley told you, “You realise there isn’t a version of events where you leave this room, don’t you?”
You chuckled to hide your fear because though he didn’t look like much there was a calm in Wesley’s eyes that set you on edge. Fisk trusted this man for a reason and you really didn’t want to find out just how far Wesley would go to protect Fisk.
Come on, Matt, you begged silently, not exactly sure what Matt could do to help but knowing he was your only way out of this situation.
“I like my chances.” You told him boredly, desperately shoving your fear and anxiety away.
Wesley chuckled at you, he had to admit you were pretty convincing but he could see the terror you were trying so hard to hide. He watched as your eyes widened, barely noticeable but he was watching closely, as he pulled a gun and placed it on the table, watching you look from it to him.
“Let’s have a chat, shall we?”
Matt had finally finished convincing Melvin to make him a suit, promising protection he hoped he could keep before he finally made his way home, leaping from rooftop to rooftop. It didn’t take long before he was entering his apartment from the rooftop entrance and pulling the mask off.
He grabbed his phone from the bedside table where he had left it to charge before heading out in the mask and clicked through it, sitting on the bed and having a text message read aloud to him.
Y/N, 11:42PM, I think somebody is following me - five minutes from your apartment.
Matt felt his heart stutter as he practically smashed his hand on the talking clock on the table, his heart practically stopping when the clock told him it was currently 12:30 AM.
“No, no,” Matt said, standing up with a shake of his head as he wracked his brain for where you could be and hated that he was coming up empty.
Since the Fisk business the two of you had drifted apart and Matt took full responsibility for that. He knew Foggy was right, knew you deserved to know about the Mask but he couldn’t bring himself to tell you and now you were gone.
“Foggy,” he said into the phone, desperately hoping his friend had any information.
“Matt, wha’time is it?” Foggy asked groggily, squinting his eyes closed as he tried to wake himself up.
“Where has Y/N been the last few nights?” He asked.
“Y/N, I don’t know man, um-” Foggy began but Matt cut him off.
“Think Foggy!” He snapped, feeling bad but also more worried about you than anything.
“Matt, calm down, tell me what’s going on.” Foggy said calmly, sitting up as he did.
“Y/N’s gone, Foggy, and I don’t know where.” Matt told him, breathing unsteadily as he paced the room.
“Shit,” Foggy cursed, suddenly feeling more awake, “Um, ok, well I know her and Karen went somewhere the other day but Karen didn’t tell me where and I thought it was odd because you know they don’t get on but I figured maybe they were-” Foggy told him, rambling slightly.
“Foggy,” Matt cut him off, “She was with Karen?”
“Yeah, crap you think they did something to piss Fisk off?” Foggy asked in fear, knowing how determined the two of you were to get something on Fisk.
“Yeah I do,” Matt said, fear and rage running through him, “You should go to Karen, make sure she’s safe.”
“What will you do?” Foggy asked, already moving off the bed and throwing some shoes on.
“I’m going to get Y/N back.” Matt said in a cold, determined tone.
“So who were the people you took on your little adventure?” Wesley asked calmly.
You swallowed again, there was little doubt in your mind that Wesley knew exactly who had visited Fisk’s mom but you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of confirming it.
“It was just me,” You told him, easily lying with a shrug, enjoying the way his face darkened for a second before falling back to its neutral position.
“Yes, well, Mrs Vistain remembers you which is rather surprising considering her illness.” Wesley said with a sympathetic nod, “she also remembers the pretty blond lady and a man.”
“I was the only one who had the pleasure of meeting her,” You said, fighting back a smile, “You know how it is, memories get muddled around and she thinks she remembers more people than there were.”
Wesley chuckled as he brought his hand to the gun, toying with it as he looked at you. You took a steadying breath as you began to twist your wrists against the restraints, trying to find a way to slip out of them.
Then all you had to do was grab the gun even though the thought sent a shiver down your spine.
“She was quite sure, actually,” Wesley said, “I’d take a guess that you were there with a Ms Karen Page and Mr Ben Urich, am I correct?”
You smiled at him, suppressing a wince as your wrist cut against the restraints.
“I assure you, I don’t go anywhere with Karen Page and as for Mr Urich was it? Well I’m afraid I’m not acquainted with him but I do know of his work, I was especially fond of his piece on Union Allied.” You told him, watching as he shifted in his seat, hating that he wasn’t getting what he wanted out of you.
“Well as a precaution I’ve already had them dealt with.” You felt your blood run cold at that, not sure if it was just a bluff or whether Karen and Ben really were dead.
“What do you want with me, Mr Wesley?” You asked, shifting in your seat and feeling blood trickle from your wrists.
“What do I want?” He asked back, raising an eyebrow at you.
“You said yourself that I don’t leave this room alive and yet here I am, still alive. I’d be dead if you didn’t want something, so tell me what do you want?”
You didn’t know how long you’d been here now but you knew you didn’t have much time left before Wesley realised that you weren’t giving him whatever he needed. You needed to buy yourself time, time for Matt to do something from the outside and time for you to free yourself from the restraints and find a way out of here.
“I did say you won’t leave this room alive but perhaps that wasn’t true. You’re determined, skilled and you could be a worthy ally.” Wesley told you and this time you couldn’t control your facial expressions as you raised your eyebrows at him with a scoff before realisation set on your face.
“Fisk doesn’t know,” You said with a laugh, “you haven’t told him I went to see his mom.” It wasn’t a question and you watched as Wesley's eyes narrowed as you laughed again in disbelief.
“He doesn’t know you’re here.” You realised and you fought not to let your eyes flicker over to where Wesley had left the gun on the table again.
You rotated your wrists, feeling the blood that was rushing out of the cuts, almost got it.
“He does not,” Wesley forced out through a fake smile. “And he doesn’t have to know you were involved, should you agree.”
“You want me to work for that man? The man who wants to see Hell’s Kitchen, the real Hell’s Kitchen, burn to the ground? I think I’ll take a pass on that offer.” You said, trying to keep the pain off your face as you pulled at your wrist, feeling whatever was holding them to the chair cut deeply into your hand, just below your thumbs.
“Mr Fisk loves this city,” Wesley told you, “Me, I don’t care for it much though, the crush of the unwashed garbage stacked on the sidewalk, the air that seems to adhere to your skin, the layer of filth you can never completely wash away but Mr Fisk he loves this city and I would do anything to help him accomplish his goals. The only thing that comes close to his love of this city is perhaps the love he has for his mother. So I will give you one final chance, pick a side.”
As Wesley was talking, distracting himself, you bit your lip and with a harsh tug managed to free your hands. They bled and ached but you knew you had one chance and you couldn’t mess this up.
As his speech came to an end you quickly reached out and grabbed the gun, aiming it at him, pushing yourself out of the chair and standing up, looking around the room without taking your eyes off of the man opposite you who looked shocked before he relaxed his face.
“You really believe I’d bring a loaded gun in here?” He asked you with a raised eyebrow.
You jutted your chin out as you clicked the safety off, fingers on the trigger.
“Yeah, I really do.” You said, tone hard as you swallowed around the lump in your throat trying not to show him how scared you are.
“I promise you, Y/N, there are no bullets in that weapon so you might as well just drop it,” Wesley told you, trying to look bored.
“Not happening,” you told him with a huff of laughter, taking a step away from the table and watching as he went to stand. “One move and I pull the trigger.”
Matt lost count of how many people he’d punched and threatened that night, becoming more and more desperate as the minutes ticked by. Eventually he found somebody, who knew somebody who heard about a place Fisk had.
Matt practically flew over to the location, bounding across roofs and leaping over gates and a few blocks away he heard a voice causing him to pause and tilt his head as he listened to the words.
“I did say you won’t leave this room alive but perhaps that wasn’t true. You’re determined, skilled and you could be a worthy ally.” No doubt that was Wesley, Fisk’s right hand man.
Matt felt the fury coursing through his veins as he went to move again but was frozen in place as he heard you.
“Fisk doesn’t know,” He heard you say in disbelief before you laughed, “you haven’t told him I went to see his mom.”
You’d gone to see Fisk’s mom? Matt finally started moving again, quicker than ever as he thought about all the ways he was going to kill you himself once he finally got you back.
As he ran across rooftops he continued listening to your conversation, fear spreading through him, scared Wesley would kill you at any moment, terrified he’d be too late.
Just as he made his way down the fire escape he heard the sound of the safety clicking off a gun and felt his blood run cold. He quickly but quietly made his way over to a window, climbing through it and making his way over to the only door in the room, thankful that there were only two heartbeats.
“One move and I pull the trigger.”
Wesley clearly wasn’t afraid as he stood up and took a step towards you.
Matt was quicker though and had Wesley on the floor just before you pulled the trigger, once, twice, three times. He didn’t look over to you as he made quick work of punching Wesley several more times than needed in order to knock him out and only then did he stand and turn to you.
You were still standing there with the gun raised, both hands clutching it. You felt like all the blood had drained from your face as tears filled your eyes and you let out a panting breath as you stared ahead, not even noticing the Man in the Mask until he was in front of you and placing his hands over yours.
“Hey,” He said, soft and low, “You didn’t kill him.”
Matt felt his heart ache as he listened to you gasp for breath, your heart beating so fast Matt was worried it’d be right out of your chest. He heard you choke on a sob as the tears fell down your face uncontrollably and he could smell the blood from your wrists.
“Look at him, Y/N/N, you didn’t kill him.”
You did as the Mask said, looking over at him and choking out a relieved sob as you let the man take the gun out of your hands slowly and placed it on the table before he turned back to you and pulled you into his chest, thoughts of secret identities out of the window as he felt you against him, sobbing into his chest.
“You’re good, I’ve got you Y/N, you did good.” He continued to murmur praise until you had your breathing under control and pushed away from him to rub your eyes and you sniffed.
“You ok?” He asked softly.
But you didn’t answer. Instead you looked up at him with furrowed brows and calculating eyes, tilting your head slightly because even without the Man in the Mask using your name, how many times had you been held against that chest, how many nights had you spent curled up against that chest?
Your mouth opened with a silent gasp as you looked up at him in disbelief before you lifted your hands, grimacing at the blood caking your wrists and fingers before you rested them on the edge of the mask.
Matt tensed, his own hands coming up to rest on your arms, not wanting to touch your wrists. He cursed himself for not being more careful, cursed himself for completely disregarding his identity but you were safe and that had been the most important thought in his head.
He felt you shift under him and he let you pull the mask off of his face, listened to you huff of disbelief as you stared up at him without saying anything. Moments passing in silence before Matt spoke.
“I’m sorry, Y/N,” He began but you cut him off by wrapping your arms around him, tighter than you had before and began sobbing into his chest again.
Matt froze, unsure of what was happening because out of all the outcomes he had pictured over you finding out he was the Man in the Mask this reaction was never one of them.
“I knew you’d find me.” You whispered against his chest and Matt’s heart fluttered at the words that were spoken with such sincerity.
“I always will.” He promised as he let his hand come up to rest on the back of your head, holding you close until you had calmed down again. “We have to get out of here.” He told you as he gestured towards Wesley.
“Thank you for getting here in time.” You told him quietly and Matt had no words for that, so he just kissed your hair before he pulled away and grabbed the gun that was covered in your prints.
It wasn’t long before you and Matt got back to his apartment. There were barely any words spoken between the two of you as you made your way back but Matt’s hand rested in yours, his thumb gently brushing against the skin that wasn’t cut.
“Take a seat,” He told you, gesturing to the sofa as he grabbed the first aid kit.
He cleaned the cuts as gently as he could, whispering apologies as you winced against his touch and didn’t speak until he was wrapping your wrists.
“What were you thinking?” He asked softly, causing you to hum questionly at him. “Going after his mother.” He clarified and heard your heart speed up as you stared at him.
“How do you know I went after his mom?” You asked him, pulling back slightly.
“I heard you and Wesley talking,” He told you quietly, finally realising this is when the other shoe dropped and you gave him the reaction he was expecting.
“You heard that and you waited until I had the gun to come in?” Your voice was shaky as you stared questioningly down at him.
“No,” Matt said, clearing his throat as he sat back on his knees, “I heard you from two blocks away.”
“Two blocks?” You asked, watching as he nodded. “Impossible.”
Matt felt his lips twitch into a smile at your statement but quickly dropped it as he began to explain himself.
“It’s true, I heard him tell you that you could be an ally, work for Fisk and I heard you tell him exactly what he could do with that offer.” Despite everything Matt couldn’t help the pride he felt for you, how well you’d held your own against Wesley.
“How could you have possibly heard that from two blocks away?” You asked him, thoughts running wild.
“You know how I told you about the accident,” He said, gesturing vaguely up to his eyes and he waited for you to nod before he carried on, “It did more than just blind me, Y/N. It gave me these…abilities. Suddenly it was like, I don’t know, I was blind but I was seeing the world differently, I could hear everything, I could smell everything.”
“What does that mean, you can hear everything? You heard a conversation two blocks away, what else can you hear?” Confusion and fear were the two main emotions you were feeling right now and they only got worse as Matt carried on talking.
“I can hear more than two blocks away, I would have heard you sooner but I was more focused on getting there than listening. I can,” Matt began but cut himself off as he remembered Foggy’s reaction to him being able to hear a heartbeat.
“Matt,” You prompted gently, hesitating before taking his hand in yours.
“I can hear a heartbeat from across the room,” He confessed quietly, hearing your own get quicker and quicker. “Helps determine threats in the room or when I need information I know if they’re being honest.”
“You know when people are lying?” You asked, voice small as you thought back to all the times you hadn’t been honest with Matt, “You knew every time I was lying to you and you never said anything?”
“Yeah.” He told you honestly, his own eyes welling up with tears.
“Matt,” You breathed out but nothing else came out.
“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He managed around the sudden lump in his throat.
“I’ve heard about what the Man in the Mask does, Matt. Are you-” You started but had to pause to push down more tears, “Are you really blind?” You finally managed to ask.
“I’m blind,” He told you, not going down the world on fire route he had with Foggy because that didn’t end well, “but my other senses, they allow me to see more than any seeing person could ever hope to.”
You let out a shaky breath as you nodded, taking in his words. Yes, you were shocked and you were so, so scared for him but ultimately you were really glad it was him in that mask tonight because you don’t think you would have managed without him.
“Does anyone else know?” You asked him quietly.
“Foggy, he-uh he found out recently,” He told you with a nod, “and um-Claire knows, she’s a nurse and she found out when I landed in her dumpster, half dead. She’s been patching me up ever since.”
You nodded too, glad, relieved, that Matt had somebody looking out for him. You were shocked Foggy had only recently found out but then again you knew Matt and you knew the guilt he carried around and that made it easy to figure out why he hadn’t told either of you.
“I’m really glad it’s you in that mask.” You told him quietly and he heard your heartbeat settle into that steady rhythm that never failed to ground him.
He couldn’t help but smile up at you, huffing out a small laugh as he did.
“You’re taking this better than I thought you would.” He said, shifting so he was sitting next to you on the sofa instead of on the floor.
“I nearly killed a man tonight, finding out your Daredevil is second on my list of things that I should probably freak out over.” You told him, leaning into him and relaxing as his hand cupped your cheek.
“You did good.” He told you again, leaning down and giving you plenty of time to move away before he brushed his lips against yours.
You happily kissed him back, soft and slow, feeling the stress melt from you as you did.
“You did good,” He repeated as the two of you pulled away, him resting his forehead against yours causing you to smile.
“I knew you’d find me.” You told him and he smiled as he listened to the comforting drum of your heartbeat.
“Always,” He promised, “C’mon, you need to sleep.”
It wasn’t long before the two of you were wrapped up in silk sheets, your head tucked under Matt’s as he held you close, not planning on letting you out of his sight any time soon.
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X me + brettsey at the hospital maybe some type of hurt/comfort scenario? 😊🥰
It was a freak accident Sylvie thinks as she and Violet rushed Matt to Med. There’s no other explanation for it. She knew it wasn't Matt's fault. It couldn't have been but one of these days, that man is going to give Sylvie a heart attack.
Calls at construction sites were common. With all the heavy equipment around, someone was bound to get hurt if they weren’t being careful. Sylvie had brought a lot of workers over the years to various hospital emergency rooms - those who got sliced with a chainsaw or accidentally stapled themselves with a nail gun or got stuck under some machinery.
So when Truck and Ambo got a call at a nearby site, they quickly got to work. 81 managed to pull out the trapped construction worker and luckily, he didn’t need to go to the hospital because the next thing Sylvie heard on the radio was a mayday call from Gallo. She and Violet sprung into action bringing the backboard into the site. Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach when she saw all the blood staining Matt’s white shirt, a rebar impaling his stomach, Gallo was crouched in front of his Captain, assessing the injury. Sylvie rushed to them as she took a better look at the rebar. Thank God it didn’t go through. She had no time to panic as she centered herself and took care of the wound, barking out orders.
She told Violet to floor it as she watched over Matt in the back of the ambulance. He was coherent, still having the energy to joke about it with her. She radioed ahead to Med to make sure it would all go smoothly.
They wheel him into the ED as she hears Maggie calling out for Crockett. Her voice is steady as she recites his vitals and a brief explanation of what happened. She sees Crockett smile at her briefly before closing the curtain and it makes her feel just a bit better. Matt’s in the best possible hands and that’s what matters.
Two hours later, 51 is camped out in the ED waiting room as they anticipate an update on Matt’s condition. Sylvie sits quietly with Stella and Violet praying that the rebar didn’t puncture any vital organs. When Violet excuses herself to go to the restroom, Cindy Herrmann slides next to Sylvie with a tray of brownies in hand. She offers it to Sylvie who gratefully accepts.
“How are you, hon?” Cindy asks.
Sylvie glances at the older woman and she knows that Cindy isn’t just asking about her feelings, there’s something deeper in her words. She and Matt have only been dating for a month but since the house knows, she’s sure Herrmann’s told Cindy about it.
“How do you do it, Cindy?” She inquires softly. Cindy and Herrmann have been married for so long, maybe it gets easier with time. All this worrying about somebody you love being in such a dangerous line of work where anything can go wrong at any moment.
Cindy pats her hand, “trust me, it never goes away. You just have to have faith that they’ll come back safely and in one piece. You know that Christopher’s been through a lot but he loves this job and I think only retirement’s going to pry him away from it.”
“Yeah, Matt’s the same. I don’t think this will slow him down even a bit,” Sylvie mentions, taking a bite of her brownie, relishing in the sweet chocolate-y taste.
“Christopher told me the two of you finally figured it out,” Cindy tells her, smiling.
“Finally?”
Cindy nods, “he said something about knowing how the two of you would get together before you did and another thing about Casey’s awkward hand gestures when he’s around you?”
Sylvie lets out a giggle, remembering about that particular moment in the locker room.
Her short chat with Cindy manages to calm her down. She knows she’ll always feel her heart hammering out of her chest every time Matt runs head first towards danger but it’s the line of work they both chose and like Cindy said, you have to have faith that they’ll always come back.
Thirty minutes later, Crockett makes an appearance and everyone crowds in front of him, anxious looks on their faces.
“Hey guys, he’s doing well. Rebar didn’t hit any major organ although, we did have to take out his spleen. He’s in the recovery room now but should be up for visitors in an hour or two. I’ll have Maggie come get you once he’s settled in a room,” the surgeon informs them.
“That’s great news,” Herrmann cheers.
Sylvie feels Stella squeeze her hand as she lets out the breath she’s been holding.
When the Med staff is able to get a room for Matt, Maggie comes to find them. 51 cram into Matt’s hospital room, laughing and joking about all the mind numbing paperwork that he gets to file while being stuck in the bull pen since he'll be out of commission for at least a few weeks.
She ends up staying back when everyone starts to file out.
“Hey,” Matt says, smiling at her, completely cheerful for someone who had a metal rod sticking out of him just three hours ago.
“I remember we talked about you never doing this again,” Sylvie chastises, “scaring me half to death.”
“I think I said I’d try my best,” Matt replies teasingly.
“Matt” Sylvie begins warningly.
“All’s well that ends well,” he reassures her.
“You lost your spleen,” Sylvie points out.
Matt raises an eyebrow before responding, “I heard you could live without those pesky spleens.”
“I was terrified, Matt, all that blood. I know you say how you have things in control but this particular one, nobody could have predicted that,” she confesses.
“Come here,” he beckons to her. He slowly scoots over, careful about his new stitches, so she has some room to sit on the bed.
“I can’t promise you that it’ll never happen again but what I can guarantee is I’ll always fight my way back to you,” he tells her, holding her hand.
Sylvie murmurs, “you’re going to make my hair go prematurely grey.”
“I heard grey hair’s pretty in,” Matt jokes, trying to lighten the mood.
Sylvie laughs despite herself, the rest of her worry starting to melt away.
“You know you’re stuck with me, right? I mean, for as long as you’ll have me, of course,” Matt says.
She looks at him, at this man she’s loved for God knows how long, “sounds about right. You’re stuck with me too.”
“I don’t mind,” he grins lopsidedly at her.
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Loving You Is Easier Than I Had Expected - Matthew Tkachuk | Rock Band AU
Summary: Being one of the most popular rock band’s personal assistant was never easy: between rushing through traffic, running around, and listening to music, Chordback was part of Deborah Miller’s day-to-day life. As if her schedule wasn’t already busy enough, the band’s drummer - Matthew Tkachuk - stumbles into her life like a tornado, unexpectedly turning her world upside down.
A/N: Oh. My. God. This fic has truly become my baby. No Joke. I’ve worked on this for almost a month and I’m so proud of what it came out to be. Hope you enjoy it!
Word Count: 18,4k (damn)
Warnings: swearing (lots of it), anxiety, fighting, cockiness (also lots of it), drinking and partying, physical fights, wounds, blood, perverts, bad relationships with families, angst, mostly fluff
Chordback needed her. More than anything.
The thought made its way into Deborah’s head as she watched the band sluggishly walk around their shared penthouse, bags under their eyes as they scrambled for their luggage and important belongings. They moved without a care in the world, as if their schedule wasn’t packed with things to do, and she didn’t need to be a genius to realize that they had partied too hard the previous night.
“Move out of the way,” Noah muttered Johnny’s way, pushing past him with his suitcase in hand. “Deb, when’s the flight?”
“The flight isn’t the problem,” she stated, holding back a sigh as Elias came out of the bathroom with toothpaste still painting the side of his lips. “There’s a reason why you decided to fly privately,”
“Then why are we rushing?” Johnny said matter-of-factly, shaking his head sassily while he closed his own bass case.
“Because you have places to be after the flight,” the only woman in the house finally let her sigh out, pushing past the men to clean the white remnants off of Elias’ face, ignoring the smug smirk on his face. “Where’s Matthew, now?”
“Chucky!”
The room fell silent for a moment as she prayed - for anyone up there - that Matthew hadn’t fallen back asleep just when they needed to leave. His frame pushed past the threshold of his bedroom soon after his name was called, his signature drumsticks in hand as a relieved sigh left Deborah’s parted lips when their eyes met.
His phone was pressed to his ear, eyes far too awake for the early morning hour that made her wonder if he had gone to sleep the night before or just stayed up until sunset rolled around. His eyebrows were furrowed, the look she saw just so often painting wrinkles on his forehead as he stayed in silence.
“Taryn, I don’t have time for this right now. I’ll call you later,” the words were rushed, his voice dark and sporting a tip of annoyance before he pressed the red button on the screen. The phone was discarded in the back pocket of his jeans a second later, his eyes finding Deborah’s and making her realize she had been staring, pushing her back into action.
“Are we ready?” She asked, loud enough for everyone to hear. All she got as responses were a few grumbles, followed by the familiar sounds of the luggage the band carried around way too often moving through the penthouse.
The ride to the airport was spent in silence, a few moans and groans leaving the guys’ lips whenever something would be too loud or, in general, too exaggerated. Going through security was just as boring, with Deborah being able to share just a few hushed words with Jean - the band’s manager - before Elias or Noah would shut the two of them down.
“I told them not to drink too much,” Jean muttered under her breath, taking a look at the way Johnny’s eyes had closed. “God, is this what being a mother feels like?”
The older woman looked exasperated as she frantically walked around the boarding area, restraining herself from giving the tired men another lecture about partying like animals and how it affects their public image.
With her arms folded over her chest, Debby watched over the guys slightly older than her. She was still wondering why Matthew was carrying himself better than the rest of his friends, but it was the look on his face that truly left her curious.
His gaze was fixated on his phone, fingers tapping quickly as the wrinkles on his forehead stayed in their place. She was staring. Again. Frustrated with her own self, Deborah turned around to face the floor-to-ceiling windows of the airport, the early sun illuminating the world before your eyes.
She felt peaceful, mind clearing from the stress of the morning right before the flight attendants led her and the band towards the private jet. The luxury of its insides were nothing new to the personal assistant, and it was the same for the inappropriate glances the captain had been sending her way ever since she had started the job.
Noah dropped on one of the leather seats, eyes closing as he shut the world out, Johnny following his actions. Elias and Matthew settled in the seats opposite them, giving Deborah a clear view of the drummer’s features even from your position in the far back.
“We should get there on time,” Jean sighed, gracefully settling down next to the young woman just as the captain started to walk away. His eyes met Deborah’s one last time, a chill running up her spine when he sent her an unwanted wink, as he always used to.
To say she felt uncomfortable was an understatement.
With her heart beating loudly against her chest, she let her fingers play with the bottom of her shirt, eyes trained in front of herself. That man needs to take a hint, was all Deborah could think, so focused on blocking out the rest of the world she didn’t even notice Matthew’s eyes on her.
He had been glancing her way curiously ever since he’d noticed her body stiffen, right when she had walked inside the plane and greeted the conductor. Her demeanor had changed, and he wanted to know why.
He stayed in his seat, though. He watched from the distance, let his eyes trail over her features until she relaxed and hoped she wouldn’t notice. Because that’s what he’s always done: admire her from far away.
-----
“Listen, why can’t you just shut the fuck up and get in there?” Noah hissed, the heated conversation between him and Elias taking place inside the control room of the studio in New York. “You’ve argued about this track ever since I put it down- thank you, sweetheart,”
He grabbed the coffee Deborah handed him with a thankful smile, the flirty nickname not even impressing her anymore as she silently sat down on the closest couch.
“Dude, this track doesn’t represent us!” Elias said, pushing his sheet music around angrily before citing the words of the song. “Oh, why can’t I have you, sweet love of mine? Are you joking, Noah?! These lyrics are pop bullshit. New album is not gonna work if we write shit like this,”
The lead blew out a heavy sigh, fists turning into balls at his sides as his eyes closed. “Actually, you know what? I need to get some air,” was all Elias mumbled, pushing past his best friend with nothing but anger painting his features. Deborah was about to run after him to make sure everything was okay, but Noah’s hand dismissed her attempt.
“Let him go, he needs to cool off,”
The singer didn’t seem too pleased with his friend’s shenanigans, turning to face the empty booth in front of his eyes as another sigh turned his body stiff. Fights had occurred before: Deborah wasn’t new to arguments about where the group was going to eat, or even fights because of girls; but things had started to become too tense, too complicated between the four men.
“Chucky, your turn,” Noah mumbled, snapping the only woman in the room out of her trance to see Matthew walk past her, drumsticks in hand.
He was silent as he sat down in front of the drum set, pushing the pair of headphones over his nest of curls. His tattooed arms were in full display as he gave Noah a thumbs up, a cocky smile painting his lips. Matthew was the living description of a rock star, and Debby couldn’t keep her eyes off of him.
The drummer’s eyes closed as the music started playing in his ears, his drumsticks making a quick turn between his fingers before he began doing what he loved the most. Watching him play had Deborah mesmerized: the way he attentively looked in front of himself to catch Noah’s reactions, or just the movements of his hands as he gave his everything into the performance, even if his only audience were her and Noah.
Deborah was lost in his gaze, his light, stormy eyes making her heart skip a beat. The sounds coming from him came to a halt before she knew it, a satisfied smirk coating his lips as he waited for Noah’s judgment.
It was silent for a few seconds, heavy breathing coming from the singer as he revived the moment and the melody in his head. “Jesus, Matt,” he breathed into the speaker, trying to muffle the shock in his features by batting his eyelids. “You got it perfect on the first time, damn,”
Matthew’s smirk grew bigger, taking its usual cocky mark as he stood up and finally noticed the assistant. When he strutted back inside the control room to grab his belongings, he snickered at her mesmerized gaze.
“Close your mouth before you catch flies, honey,” was all he said, cocking his brow as his smug smile still sat on his lips. The remark had Deborah’s face turn into a scowl, his cocky words engraving themselves in her mind as he walked away.
She bit her lip as she turned back around to face Noah, trying to push Matthew and his cockiness out of her head, with no success. The lead, on the other hand, looked in distress: he was hunched over the console, clearly in his own head as silence engulfed the two of them in a stressful hug.
“Tell me you know how to play the guitar,” he mumbled, rubbing his tired eyes as he turned around to face Deborah. “Or at least how to book a place for us in a bar, tonight,”
“I can do the latter,” she sighed, knowing that Noah’s plans to finish the song would need to involve a night out, alcohol, and girls willing to drool all over Elias’ charm.
“And please, come out with us, Deb,” he continued. “Jean doesn’t want things to go too wild, so we might need you to keep us on track,”
She held back a sigh. Her plans for a relaxing night at the hotel had been crushed. Again. Though a night by herself looked way better than a packed club, Deborah’s job was calling, and she couldn’t refuse.
“Alright, I’ll be there,” she said, taking her phone out of her bag to start the search for the night’s location. “I’ll text you the details,”
“Drinks are on us,”
-
Debby’s ears felt like they were going to bleed soon, and the headache was making her head throb so hard she was hoping not to faint in the middle of the most popular club in New York.
The VIP area was everything she had expected it to be: leather couches that probably cost more than her apartment back in Calgary, enough drinks to make an army drunk, and the entire female population of the city. What could she say? It was Chordback worthy.
Elias’ cheeks were tinted a dark shade of red, eyes gleaming even in the darkness of the club as he held two blondes close to his body. The smirk Deborah knew so well was painting his lips - the one he reserved for flirting purposes only - as she watched him charm another set of girls in his hotel bed.
He was the second oldest in the band, but it hadn’t taken the assistant years to realize his maturity level wasn’t what every girl on the internet expected it to be. Clad in his tight, pitch-black skinny jeans and shirt - not exactly what people would expect a rock star to dress like -, he knew how to attract girls.
Noah had tried to convince him to record his guitar solo the moment their drinks were placed in front of them, but he had ended up with no success when the guitarist had left the table mid-conversation to go dance. The lead’s patience was running low, and Debby was sure his night wasn’t going to turn out as good as he had thought it would.
If that wasn’t enough, she felt stared at. Everywhere she went, a pair of eyes was following her. Debby would turn around to find scowls coloring the groupies’ faces, their orbs giving her disgusted once-overs whenever she’d go as far as to grasp Noah’s arm to avoid falling over, or even lean close enough to ask where Matthew had gone. She had never liked being the center of attention, hence why she had decided to work behind the scenes.
By the time midnight hit, though, she had had enough. The day had been tiring, the club was anything but enjoyable, and the glaring had gone from bearable to annoyingly uncomfortable. Almost stomping her way towards the couch, Debby’s arms folded over her own chest as she stood before Matthew Tkachuk’s relaxed body.
“Okay, I’m done with this bullshit,” she yelled loudly enough to be heard over the thumping bass of the music. “Do I have something on my face?”
Matthew’s smirk paired with his arched eyebrows did its job at making the younger girl feel embarrassed. In some ways, it sent her back to the days in high school, where the popular girls only needed one of their disgusted glances to make her shut herr mouth and feel embarrassed.
Deborah ignored his expression, waiting for a response as a girl sat next to him - so close she was almost straddling his lap. “No? Why would you think that?”
“Because everyone is staring at me as if I have shit smeared all over my face,”
The words snatched a chuckle out of his system, tongue wetting his lips as he gave Debby’s body a once-over. “They think you’re a new one. One of them,”
Her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to unravel his riddle, but nothing seemed to make sense in her mind. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“They think you’re a new groupie, that you’re stealing their place,”
“I’m not a fucking groupie,” she said, confusion clear in her features as she watched him sling his arm over the girl at his side. “I’ve been your PA for two years now!”
All Matthew did was shrug, smirking as he watched the look of annoyance spread over the personal assistant’s face. She was done. She wanted to leave the busy club behind with all the nasty glares and go back to the hotel to sleep.
Skimming past sweaty bodies, she reached Noah’s side after a few minutes. She had expected him to be having fun, but his features were still sporting a bothered scowl. “Noah!”
His attention snapped towards her in a second, his eyes boring into Deborah’s as he waited for her to speak up. “I’m heading to the hotel, I can’t stand this club anymore,”
A small nod was all she got in response, her eyes falling among the crowd to see Johnny making out with a smaller brunette, his hair sticking all over the place. Glancing towards the side of the room, she found Elias sitting on the couch, enjoying the sloppy kisses being spread all over his neck by the two blondes from earlier. Matthew, on the other hand, was still sitting on the couch - this time without his companion - his light orbs focused on Noah and their assistant.
“Can you please keep an eye on the rest of the guys?” She asked Noah, looking up at him as she waited for his response. He gave you a curt nod. “And don’t stay out too late,”
She left the club soon after, strutting out of the packed room with relief. Debby still felt eyes on herself, but not the ones of the rabid fans that had hated her since the moment she had stepped inside the room. Matthew’s eyes.
They watched her walk away, ignoring the pair of manicured hands touching his arm to catch his attention. He had been the reason why everyone was looking at her, and it wasn’t hard to tell. Yet, she was oblivious.
They had thought Deborah was a groupie because of the way he looked at her, because what his eyes held whenever he’d let himself glance her way wasn’t just curiosity. It was fondness, hunger, a cocktail of emotions that he had been trying to avoid for his own sake.
But, that time, he had lost at his own game.
-
“What the hell were you thinking?!”
Jean’s voice was sharp, so shrill it sent bolts of pain through Deborah’s temples. She had watched the scene unfold in front of your eyes, starting with the unexpected awakening in the middle of the night, ending with all the band members getting lectured by their agent.
The woman in her forties looked like she was about to tug her dark hair off of her scalp, an angry look on her face as she looked at the men sitting in front of her. “Jean, calm down. It was just a fight,”
“Don’t tell me to calm down, boy!” Jean pointed her finger sharply at his face, nostrils flaring. “Just a fight, Elias?! It’s all over the internet!”
Guilt washed over Debby as she took in Noah’s beat-up face, including his cut lip and purplish left eye; Matthew, next to him, wasn’t doing any better. She was supposed to be there, to keep an eye on the guys.
Jean had woken her up in a rush an hour after coming back to the hotel, mumbling under her breath as she dragged Deborah to her personal room. Chordback was already sitting on the edge of her bed, their eyes cast on the floor as the assistant noticed their bruises and cuts.
“I hate to say this, Elias, but you’ve been causing problems for the past month,” Jean sighed, rubbing her forehead with the palm of her hand as her tired eyes focused on the landscape out of the hotel’s window. “First the schedule, then Noah’s song, now whatever happened at the club,”
She let another sigh slip past her lips before her voice took a gentler tone. “John, what happened?”
There was a beat before the bass player spoke, and Deborah took a moment to examine his face. He was by far the one that hadn’t been affected by the fight, at all. “I- uh… I don’t know,”
The assistant had to refrain from holding back a sigh herself, her tense body language catching Elias’ eye. “Why are we the only ones getting lectured? Deborah was supposed to stay with us,”
“This is not about Debby,” Jean stated harshly, sending him a glare. “She wasn’t getting paid to follow you at the club, and she had every right to leave when she felt like it. John, keep going,”
“I said I don’t know anything,”
“Matthew?”
The curly-haired man sighed, his head lifting upwards just then to let his eyes meet the wall briefly. “I was talking with a girl, people started yelling, and I heard Elias talking shit about Noah’s song”
Deborah’s stomach filled with an unknown feeling when he mentioned a girl, sending her head in a spiral to ask herself what the hell was she experiencing. That wasn’t supposed to happen.
“And I just couldn’t take it,” Matthew stopped, his fingers ghosting over the cuts on his knuckles. “Man, that’s a heartfelt song and you went around to talk shit about it to strangers,”
Elias kept his mouth shut, jaw clenching as his friend continued talking. “Noah and Johnny also came in, but just in time to separate us,”
“Then what happened to your face, Noah?” Jean asked, concern evident in her voice.
“I- uh… I was seeing red,” Matthew mumbled, silence filling the room soon after the words left his mouth. Deborah was left to look at a desperate Jean - clearly close to having a mental breakdown - and hope things would get better by the time morning would roll in.
Her mind, though, couldn’t focus on anything but Matthew. He looked beaten up, both physically and mentally; he looked like he was holding so much on his shoulders, so much pressure she wanted to relieve him of.
“Matthew, John,” Jean sighed, looking behind his shoulders at the two men briefly. “You can go get some sleep. You too, Debby,”
She had never shuffled out of a room that quickly in her entire life, the tension being so overwhelming she needed a breath of fresh air. Johnny and Matthew were silent as they stepped out of the room, a physical and emotional distance separating them as they parted ways.
The moment was awkward, Matthew turning around just in time to see his friend shut the door of his room behind himself, a sigh leaving his lips. His eyes met Deborah’s for a quick second, a wave of shame flowing through them.
In some way, she felt like part of that shame was directed at herself too: his snarky, cocky words were still impressed in her mind, but she could see his regret. She wished her heartbeat hadn’t started picking up, but looking in his eyes, she couldn’t help it.
He was asking for forgiveness, and who was she to not give it to him? He was the only person she couldn’t stop thinking about day and night, anyway, for some reason.
“Come with me,” Deborah whispered, her voice shallower than she had thought it would be as her hand caught his. He didn’t ask questions when she opened her room’s door, he didn’t speak a word as she led him towards the en-suite bathroom, and he didn’t run away when she made him sit on the edge of the bathtub.
More silence settled between the two of them as Debby grabbed the first-aid kit the hotel supplied, wetting a cotton ball with disinfectant before letting her hand grab Matthew’s again.
There was a soft hiss when she first let the material touch his bloody skin, his jaw clenching as he closed his eyes. “I feel like a monster,”
His words made the woman’s heart clench, her stomach turning into jelly. “You’re not a monster, Matthew,”
“I hit my best friend because I couldn’t hold myself back,” he breathed out, voice unexpectedly shaky as he kept his gaze on the tile floor. “I’m a monster,”
Deborah sighed, letting her fingers grasp his chin so he could lift his head up. Their eyes met as she prepared another cotton ball, ready to clean the cut on his bottom lip as they let silence fill the room.
Cradling his head in her hands, Debby took a few minutes to wipe some dried blood off his skin. Matthew was tired, she could tell from the way his eyes were struggling to stay open, but regret was keeping him up, keeping his brain active.
She let herself gaze at him for a small moment before patting his shoulder. “Get some sleep, Matt,” she whispered. “Really,”
He nodded gingerly, following her towards her door. “Thank you, Deb,”
“Don’t worry about it,”
He took a moment to admire her, letting one of his hands gently push a strand of stray hair out of her face. Her body heated up, heart rate quickening as she watched him leave silently, a small smile on his lips.
In a trance, Deborah went back to bed, sleep not on her agenda anymore. Her mind kept repeating the moment she had had with Matthew, every single second of it, and it felt new, unexpected.
Matthew Tkachuk was making her feel things she had never felt before, and everything was so unknown to her.
That night, Deborah struggled to fall back asleep.
-----
“You’re gonna catch a cold,”
The evening air was making Deborah’s hair flow around herself, her eyes focusing on the sunset before turning around to meet Matthew’s. A small smile formed on her lips, her arms folding over her chest. “Nah, my body won’t betray me like that,”
The chuckle that left his lips was enough to push the butterflies in her stomach back to life. His body reached Debby’s side as he focused too on the setting sun disappearing behind the New York skyscrapers.
“Truly the best time of the day,” she mumbled under her breath. “Sunsets are just so beautiful,”
Matthew sent a quick glance her way. “But the night,” was all he said, voice holding a tone of fondness as he looked in front of himself. “The night is just so beautiful,”
“The night is lonely,” the assistant pointed.
“The night is peaceful,” he corrected her, the smile on his lips so tender it made her melt. “Everyone goes to sleep at night, and it gives you time to think,”
There was a beat of silence as she took in his words, heart racing as she unconsciously scooted closer to him. The question was risky. It rushed through Deborah’s lips, and her eyes almost closed in fear of rejection. “What do you think about? At night, I mean,”
“I think about good memories,” his answer was quick, no sign of discomfort on his face. “About my childhood, or people I miss,”
He glanced her way with a smile on his lips, the air from the top of the building making his curls move slightly. “And what do you think about? At night, I mean,”
“Life, I guess,”
There was a nod from his side, his eyes turning back to focus on the landscape as another round of silence filled the distance between the two of them. Deborah’s mind started to think about his words, pushing her away from reality as she tried to keep herself at bait. You weren’t his type, and what about Taryn?
The identity of Taryn was still unknown to the girl, but something was telling her she was eventually going to find out. She was so into her own world that she barely registered the soft material of Matthew’s leather jacket slipping onto her shoulders, his eyes glancing her way.
His body leaned against the railing of the terrace, slipping unbelievably closer to hers as the two of them admired each other. “God, Deborah,” he whispered, letting one of his hands graze over her cheekbone. Her heart was beating out of her chest so loudly she feared he could hear it, his palm slowly cupping her cheek as he let his eyes admire her. “I wish I could have met you earlier,”
His lips were extremely close to Debby’s, so close she barely even paid attention to what he had said. As the words registered, she opened her mouth to ask for an explanation, but the ringing of his phone interrupted the moment.
His eyelids shut in annoyance as he slipped the device out of his back pocket, answering as soon as he could. “I’ll be down in a sec,”
He was off the railing before he even ended the call, leaving Deborah on her own on the terrace of the building that hosted Chordback’s recording label. He turned around just when she called his name, voice strained by the sudden end of just what had been about to happen.
“Your jacket, Matt,” she pointed, starting to shrug it off just so she could hand it back to him. His hand rose in the air, putting her movements to a halt.
“Keep it,” he said, smiling gingerly before opening the door to head back inside the warmth of the building. “It looks better on you anyway,”
-----
“I wanna do it again,” Johnny said from the booth, looking at Noah as he strummed lightly his bass. “I fucked up the last part,”
From her spot on the smallest - and most uncomfortable - couch she had ever seen, Deborah watched Noah nod his head, pressing a few buttons on the console. The bass player’s head started bobbing when the music started filling his headphones, eyes almost closing as he started playing his melody.
Her tired eyes fell down on her phone, the brightness of its screen almost making her curse out. It was well past midnight, and Deborah’s day had been more than busy: the boys had to record a podcast episode with a famous producer, and she hadn’t even had a moment to settle down at the studio before a call from Jean pushed her up on her feet and around New York.
Her head was pounding, but she wasn’t allowed to leave the studio until the band decided to finish their session and go back to the hotel, so she sat in silence next to Matthew. He was silent too, glancing in front of himself as the faint sound of Johnny’s bass sent him in a trance.
As Debby’s eyes struggled to stay open, she stretched her back, holding back a moan when she felt just how tense her muscles were. Her movements snapped Matt out of his daydreaming, his orbs finding hers in the dimly lit studio as she settled back into her initial place.
“You okay?” He asked, voice uncharacteristically soft as he kept his gaze trained on the assistant.
“Just tired,” was all she said, pushing out a sigh as she folded her arms over her chest. Who turned on the AC, for fuck’s sake?
“Johnny prefers working in the cold,” Matthew murmured, almost reading her thoughts. “You want me to turn off the AC?”
Deborah shook her head, trying to hide a veil of shock at his unexpected words, kindness spilling out of them like a fountain. “No, no. It’s fine, don’t worry,”
Though she had been trying as hard as she could to keep herself awake, her body found itself scooting closer to Matthew’s, his warmth making her eyelids finally close. Debby’s head dropped to his shoulder, finally letting her relax for the first time of the day. A content sigh left her lips.
Matthew’s heart was beating out of his chest, emotions he had felt just once making him shiver. One of his arms wrapped itself around the girl’s waist, holding her close and hoping the moment would never end.
She was so close, so soft in his hold he never wanted to let go.
So he closed his eyes, putting his world to a stop just so he could hold her for a little more, just so he could imagine what it would feel like to be hers.
He was woken up after what felt like hours, Noah’s smirk being the first thing he saw after the midnight nap. Deborah’s head was on his chest, eyes closed and a relaxed smile painting her lips as she peacefully slept.
“And then I’m the obvious one,” Noah joked, referring to all the chirps he had gotten for always looking smitten, when he liked someone. “Should I be waiting for a love song from you?”
“Shut the fuck up, man,” Matthew hissed, a smile forming on his lips even after the chirps. “What time is it?”
“One a.m.”
“Damn,” Matthew sighed, rubbing his eyes before looking down at Debby again. “I’ll wake her up. Just wait outside for us,”
“Don’t fuck on the couch,” Noah joked, making Matthew roll his eyes. The lead shut the door behind him and Johnny, leaving Deborah and the man able to make her heart skip a beat on their own.
Matt took a moment to admire her peaceful state, one of his calloused hands cupping her cheek before pushing a strand of hair out of her face. The movements had Deborah stirring, her eyes slowly opening just to see - and feel - Matthew close to her.
With her cheeks burning, she pushed herself off of him, an awkward chuckle leaving her parted lips. “I’m, uh- I’m sorry,” Debby stuttered, running a hand through her hair. “How long was I out for?”
“An hour, maybe?”
She looked down at her phone to check the time, nodding her head when she saw the digits at the top of the screen. “Everyone is done?”
“They’re waiting outside,” he said, voice tender as he watched her rise to her feet. With a nod, Deborah grabbed her purse and let her eyes meet with his. She didn’t know what to say, so the two of them were left in silence before she muttered something and left the room in a rush, heart beating quickly against her rib cage.
By the time Debby reached the rest of the group outside - Elias still missing in action -, she was faced with grins. Nobody talked, though, and by the time she shut the hotel door behind herself, she was a nervous mess.
What the fuck had just happened?
-----
The last morning in New York was sunny. Deborah’s sunglasses barely could do their job as she sat between the band on the outside of the overpriced café they loved. The slight breeze was bringing the first few hints of summer in the busy air of the city, and the woman enjoyed her last moment in the Big Apple by taking a sip of the warm drink sitting in front of her.
It was the first time Chordback actually sat down together after the fight between Noah and Elias, and it felt refreshing. Johnny and Matthew - who was sitting beside her - were talking, just like the old times, and Elias was taking a moment to admire the city.
Noah, on the other hand, wasn’t paying much attention to his background: his eyes were focused on his phone, a smile that Debby could only refer to as smitten painting his lips.
“So, what are the plans for the day, hun?” Elias caught the assistant’s attention, the pet name making her chuckle.
“Hun? Oh my God,” she giggled, pushing the conversation behind herself before opening her mouth again. “We gotta catch the flight back to Calgary and then you’re free,”
A whistle came from Johnny, happy chuckles filling their surroundings. “A day off? Wow,”
“No partying, though,” Deborah warned, pointing a finger Elias’ way, who shrugged innocently. The moment was short-lived, being interrupted by a younger fan asking for a picture. The guys all put on a smile, rising to their feet and getting in position. Noah took more time than necessary to put down his phone, but eventually joined his friends and greeted the girl, who looked like she was about to faint.
By the time the photo was taken, the girl was running off to her family holding back happy tears. The band members sat back in their places to finish their breakfast, silence thickening at the table.
Deborah’s eyes met Matthew’s, remembering what had happened during the band’s last studio session, her cheeks heating up. There hadn’t been any moments where the two of them could discuss not only the cuddling, but also the time when she had helped him clean his wounds up after the fight at the club, and Debby was feeling torn.
She didn’t know why, but in some way she didn’t want to discuss the events. She thought it was ridiculous that she couldn’t figure out what she was feeling, what Matthew was doing to her. Debby couldn’t figure out her own feelings, and figuring his out was more difficult than she had expected.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the devil himself, pushing her back to reality with his voice. “Hanifin, what the hell are you doing with that phone?” Matt teased, his signature smirk painting his lips.
“I, uh-” the lead stuttered, finally putting his device on top of the table as he looked up at the assistant and his friends. “I was just sending a text,”
“Just one?” Johnny chirped, chuckling when Noah’s cheeks turned a dark shade of red. “I think he’s hiding something from us, guys,”
“I sent the demo of ‘As Long As I’m With You’ to the person it’s written about,”
There was a beat of silence as Elias, Matthew, and Johnny all took in their lead’s words. “‘As Long As I’m With You’ as in the song we fought over?” Elias asked, voice filled with surprise as he waited for a response. Noah just nodded, biting back a smile as his eyes met with Matthew’s.
“Chucky knew,” he mumbled. “That’s why he punched you in the face when you talked shit about it,”
“Oh! That’s what he meant with ‘heartfelt’,” Elias laughed, shaking his head before breathing out a guilty sigh. “I’m sorry, man. Should have just kept my mouth shut,”
“I told you, it’s fine,” Noah said, his eyes glancing down towards his phone when the screen lit up, the guys finally finishing their breakfast.
“What’s her name, man?”
“Aleena,” just the mention of her name made the lead smile. “She’s back in Calgary,”
“And you didn’t tell us?!” Matt exclaimed, dramatically holding a hand to his chest. “This one hurts, man,”
“Did she like it?” Elias asked.
“The demo? She loved it,” Noah chuckled, cheeks turning uncharacteristically red. He gulped down his coffee, eyes glancing Deborah’s way as he stood up. “Ready to go?”
And by the time they reached the airport, the band was back as if the fights, bickering, and internal annoyance hadn’t happened. She had always been surprised at how strong their bond actually was that she found herself hurting when the thoughts of them possibly separating even crossed her mind.
The wait at the gate was not as long as the one from weeks prior, the private plane already waiting for everyone by the time they had gone through security. Deborah had to repress a groan when she realized the pilot was going to greet her, just like every time.
His dark eyes were on her before she could even walk inside the aircraft, the edges of his mouth turning upwards into a creepy smirk as he shook Johnny’s hand. It felt like a routine: Debby would greet the two kind flight assistants, share a knowing look with them before sticking her hand out to shake the pilot’s. The wink he sent her way wasn’t new, and neither was his hand squeezing her waist before he walked back to his seat.
Her eyes portrayed the usual emptiness they always did after entering the plane, and Matthew was quick to notice. That time, though, he knew why she turned the world off as soon as they’d board. He had been guessing Deborah was afraid of heights, or that flying made her sick, but he would have never guessed it was because of the pilot.
He elbowed Noah without even thinking, his eyes still glancing the assistant’s way as his best friend hissed. “What the fuck, Chucky?!”
“We need to talk,”
Noah sent Matthew a confused glare, eyebrows scrunched together as he followed the drummer’s gaze. He looked at Deborah, then back at his bandmate with a look of confusion still coloring his face. “Well, talk, then,”
“Later,” Matthew mumbled. “We’ll talk when we land, this needs to stay private,”
Noah nodded his head, trying to ignore his friend’s weird manners before pushing his earbuds back in. Matthew, on the other hand, stared at the girl a few seats away. Anger made his skin boil as he thought about the man that had harassed her. If the fucker hadn’t been driving the plane she was on, he would have already been dead.
The newfound protectiveness sent a thrill of shock through his spine, but he ignored it. Deborah didn’t deserve it, and the man was going to regret every single glance he had sent her way. You don’t mess with a Tkachuk, Matthew thought. The man was going to pay.
-----
The city of Calgary held something Deborah couldn’t quite place. In her eyes, it looked like home.
Home, though, was back in Arizona - the complete opposite of what Calgary is. With the hot sun burning your shoulders almost the entire year and the endless summers, Arizona was the place Debby went back to just for her family. She had always preferred the cold, after all.
Thanksgiving was around the corner, the Canadian air was starting to thicken with the winter cold, and home was calling. And she was single, again. It wasn’t because of her parents - they truly knew she was one to put work before anything else -, but rather the rest of her family.
Deborah had grown up knowing that her father’s side of the family was ruthless when it came to getting back home alone, and it had been bothering her ever since she had first moved out. The snarky remarks coming from her aunt and her husband had always been following Deborah around the walls of her childhood home and, no matter how hard she tried to push them away, she just couldn’t.
And, God. She hated it so much.
In some way, it made the woman want to spend the holiday on her own, away from the prying eyes of her relatives and away from the stress they caused. But she loved her family too much, and leaving them behind wasn’t an option.
When Deborah walked inside the band’s penthouse, she was met with unexpected silence. The entry hall was tidy, the guys’ respective coats hanging one next to the other; the kitchen was clean, plates and cups stored in their designated cupboard; the living room, on the other hand, wasn’t empty.
Matthew was sitting on one of the two couches, a notepad in his hands as he looked out of the window. His eyes were glancing at the gray clouds painting the sky, covering the first few rays of sunlight of the morning.
“Good morning,”
Her voice seemed to shake him out of his trance, body snapping around to meet her eyes as she slowly pushed her coat down her shoulders. “‘Morning, D,”
“Where are the guys?”
“Still sleeping,” Matthew mumbled, watching Debby’s every move as she let her purse sit on one of the kitchen stools. She made her way towards the couch, sitting down next to him as she tried to ignore the tension rising between the two of them, just like it always did.
The trip to New York had seemed to make a big difference in what their friendship - if you could even call it that - was, even if anything barely happened. Seeing him play, falling asleep on his shoulder, taking care of him after the fight - in some way, it all made a difference, and Debby was sure Matthew could tell, too.
That night she had fallen asleep in the car and he carried her to her hotel room? The tea he had brought her that one morning when she was feeling sick? And the talk. The sunset talk.
He didn’t seem to notice the way her heart beat for him and him only, he was so oblivious it made Deborah frustrated.
“How are you doing?” He asked, the soft thud of his notepad hitting the floor making the assistant bat her eyelashes and bringing her back to reality.
“I’m okay,” she admitted, running a hand through her hair as her eyes focused on him. “Just thinking about Thanksgiving,”
He chuckled. “You going back home?”
“I mean, I probably should head back to Arizona,” she sighed, shaking her head before opening her mouth again. “I’m just not ready to have the ‘oh, why can’t a pretty girl like you find a good man to marry?’ talk again,”
“Oh, God,” the man in front of her chuckled. “Been there,”
“What about you? Are you going home?”
There was a beat before his voice darkened, eyes glazing with something Deborah couldn’t quite place as his hand toyed with the hem of his shirt. “No,”
He let his answer linger in the air, the penthouse turning silent again as he stared ahead of himself. From Debby’s spot next to him, it seemed like he was in his thoughts, his lips pushed in a straight line as he let the emptiness of the house hit the two of them.
Another beat. “My family and I are not too close,”
“Oh,” she murmured, eyebrows furrowing as she let her eyes focus on something else other than his face. He looked saddened, in some kind of way, but mainly pissed. “So, uh- spending it with anyone special?”
“Oh no,” his tense jaw slowly turned back to normal as he repressed a chuckle. “I’m single,”
Then who the hell was Taryn?
He seemed to catch on to Deborah’s confused gaze, an eyebrow cocking as he looked at her. “What?”
“Nothing,” her cheeks heated up, embarrassment making her heartbeat quicken as shee looked at her fingers. The look on his face spurred the woman on, her voice becoming shallow as she spoke. “I just- I heard you talking to a girl named Taryn, so I just kind of assumed-”
His laughter interrupted her, waking up the mass of butterflies in her stomach just when his head lulled back against the couch’s headrest. “Oh my God,” he laughed, holding his stomach before looking back at her. “Taryn is my sister,”
“Oh,”
Deborah erupted in a fit of laughter too, shaking her head before letting it lean against his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, I don’t even know why I thought that,”
“Don’t worry,” he chuckled. “Some groupies went as far as to call her to tell her to leave me alone,”
The confession made her eyebrows scrunch. Girls did that to him?
Silence settled back between the two of them as Debby’s eyes focused on the city starting to wake up outside the window. The thought that crossed her mind felt wrong from the moment she even tried to phrase it. But there’s nothing worse than spending Thanksgiving on your own, was all her heart could say.
She glanced quickly at Matthew, who was scribbling something on his notepad. The light redness painting his cheeks had her heart clenching with longing, her hands tingling, begging to run through his messy curls. He was truly breathtaking, Deborah couldn’t get enough of him.
“Come to Arizona with me,” the words were rushed, unexpected. They had her surprised when they left her own mouth, and Matthew’s shock was evident as he turned his head around to glance her way.
“I-”
“Spending Thanksgiving on your own fucking sucks,” Debby pointed out. “And I won’t let you experience that on my watch,”
He laughed, shaking his head before letting their eyes meet. “I don’t want to intrude,”
“You would never intrude,” the woman said, voice gentle as she restrained herself from cradling his cheek. “And my mom has been begging to meet you guys ever since I started working for you,”
That confession made a laugh ripple out of his lips, the sound making her body feel alive. “So? Yes or no?”
There was a moment where he let his gaze meet Debby’s, his fondness hugging her warmly as she momentarily forgot how to speak.
“Only if the tickets are on me,”
She frowned jokingly, biting her lip to hide a smile before speaking. “We’re set,”
-----
“Oh my God, I missed you so much,” Deborah’s mother wept as she left her arms around her daughter’s frame, the crispy wind of Thanksgiving Eve making the afternoon air unexpectedly chilly. “I told you, you should come home more often,”
Debby chuckled at her comment, pushing herself away from her mother to introduce Matthew - her boss and her date. She was fucked. “Mom, this is Matthew. He’s the drummer of the band I work for,”
“It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Miller. Thank you for having me,”
From the smile on her mother’s lips, Deborah knew she was sold. The older woman had never been one for tattoos, but Debby had caught her admiring Matthew’s full sleeves from the moment he had crossed her vision; he had helped his date carry her luggage, and she was sure her mom had also noticed that, hence why she was smiling at him as if he had just proposed to her only daughter.
“Come in already, guys. Grandma has just arrived, too,” she mumbled, waving a hand in the air as a signal for the two to get inside.
“Grandma?”
The sight of her sitting on the couch, eyes focused on knitting made Deborah almost tear up. Grandma was home. Her voice shook the elder out of her trance, her body slowly rising to its feet to embrace Deborah in a longing hug. “Oh, Peaches,” the nickname still held all the memories from her childhood, and her arms circling the assistant made her feel at peace. “I missed you,”
“I missed you, too, grandma,” Debby sniffled, pulling away to introduce Matt to her, too. Her grandmother’s eyes were curious as they scanned him, probably blocking out her granddaughter’s introduction to focus on him instead.
“Where are you from, son?” Her phrase - especially the name she gave Matthew, who was almost twice her height - had the youngest woman in the household repressing a giggle. Matthew, on the other hand, grew quite nervous.
“I was uh- born in Arizona, but grew up in St. Louis,”
The grandmother gave a curt nod, sitting back down on the couch and motioning for Debby to sit down next to her. Her mother joined the room with quick steps, her hand finding Matthew’s shoulder to push his eyes off of the woman that stole his breath away every passing day.
“Deb, I figured Matthew could stay in the basement? Would it be okay?”
The man in question nodded, a smile forming on his lips as he thanked Debby’s mother. He was led towards the stairs before she knew it, a reassuring smile being sent her way before she was left on her own with her grandma.
“He seems nice,” the older woman mumbled, eyes still focused on the hat she was making. “You said he plays the drums?”
“Yes, he’s great,”
There was a beat of silence before she looked up at her granddaughter, eyebrows wiggling jokingly. “You together?”
Deborah’s cheeks heated up, her head shaking quickly soon after as her eyes focused on her lap. There wasn’t a response from her grandmother, who silently went back to her previous tasks and letting her think.
What the hell were the two of them even doing?! Matthew was practically her boss, if something went wrong, she’d probably get fired, for God’s sake. Deborah’s life was literally walking on a thread: one wrong decision and she would be done.
No more working for Chordback, no more traveling with the band. No more Matt.
And she couldn’t let that happen. Her heart was beating for the drummer, and there was nothing she could do about it.
Whatever was going to happen during the holidays, she was hoping it wasn’t going to end everything between her and Matt before it even started. She wasn’t going to let that happen.
She felt like her happy ending might have been closer than she had thought.
-
The morning after Matthew and Deborah’s arrival was busier than the latter had expected. The loud noises coming from the kitchen woke her up from her deep, peaceful slumber, and by the time she made it downstairs, the house was in full swing.
Her mother and grandma were zooming around the family home, rushing around with pots and pans, not a care in the world when it came to waking up the rest of the household. Her father, on the other hand, was sitting at the kitchen island, a comical look of exasperation painting wrinkles on his face.
The stairs leading towards the basement weren’t empty either: a quite shocked - and still sleepy - Matt stood right on the last step, watching the net of nerves Deborah’s family had created unfold in front of his eyes.
“Well, good-fucking-morning,” the woman giggled, turning around just in time to catch him chuckle, his body clad in an old band tee and a pair of plaid pants she had never seen him wear. His arm lifted itself up in the air, hand signaling her to come closer before he could wrap the limb around her body, his relaxing scent filling her nostrils.
“Good morning,” he hummed, voice still hoarse after the multiple hours of sleep. “Looks pretty chaotic in here,”
“And you haven’t seen Christmas,” Debby giggled, the sound of his laughter making her heart skip a beat. “Dad’s having breakfast, I’m sure he won’t mind if we join,”
The curls on top of Matthew’s head bobbed along with his nod as he followed her towards the main source of sound - and chaos - in the household. Deborah translated her father’s grumble into what she could only guess was a ‘good morning’, and took it upon herself to make coffee for her and Matt.
Debby longingly watched him talk to her father as she waited for the warm beverage to get ready, realizing that with each day passing, she was falling for him even more. It was a shock to her, if she had to be honest. She was falling deeply in love with someone she hadn’t even shared a kiss with, but God, she was more than smitten.
The beeping of the coffee machine shocked her out of your lovesick trance, Deborah’s eyelashes batting a few times before she grabbed their mugs and headed towards the island.
“Yeah, the Oilers are definitely having a good season,” Matthew agreed to whatever her father had said. “Leafs have been doing pretty well too,”
“You’re right, son,”
“What are you talking about?” Debby asked, a smile on her lips as she sat next to Matthew.
“Hockey,” her father said, tipping his head back to finish his dark coffee. “Matthew told me his brother plays for the Senators,”
The girl’s eyes widened, searching for Matthew’s face. “Really?”
“Yeah,” he chuckled, eyes not moving from his coffee until he changed the conversation, leaving her utterly in the dark about his family situation. Deborah thought it was funny that just a few minutes prior, she was thinking she was falling in love with the man sitting beside her, when in reality she knew just a few things about his life. “So, uh- should I wear anything specific today?”
“Just something slightly elegant, mom doesn’t care too much,” she said, smiling when he nodded his head.
“Should I wear a tie?”
“Oh, God,”
“Hey, I brought one with me just in case!” He said, a hint of joking in his tone as he sipped on his coffee. “Ties are cool,”
“I’ve never seen you wear one in your life, Matt,” Deborah giggled. “And I’ve been working with you for two years,”
“Maybe I wear them in my free time, how could you know that?”
She laughed, shaking her head as the world came to a halt around them. It was just her and Matthew, joking in the kitchen at half-past-eight in the morning, voices still hoarse as they sipped on their coffee. Debby’s brain could only think that, maybe, she could get used to it.
By the time dinner rolled around, she felt nervous. She watched herself twirl one last time in front of her mirror, the flowered dress she was wearing moving with her as she breathed out a sigh.
Another Thanksgiving. Debby was secretly hoping it would be better than all the other holidays, and something in her was telling her it was going to be the best Thanksgiving of her life. Because Matthew came along.
Closing her childhood bedroom door behind herself, Deborah heard the familiar voices of her relatives coming from the first floor, her aunt’s shrill tone standing taller than the rest.
“And who’s the new addition to the family?”
Debby’s eyes widened, a muttered curse leaving her lips as she sprinted down the stairs, all the attention being lifted onto her when she almost fell face first in the middle of the living room.
“Debs! Happy Thanksgiving!”
The greetings were all quickly sent her way, followed by hugs and small talk as she greeted the new guests. Deborah’s aunt, though, didn’t take long before going back to Matthew, a mischievous look on her face as she gave him a once-over.
“Back to you, darling. New addition to the family? We haven’t met yet,”
“I’m Matthew,” Debby’s - well... - date said, a charming smile that would be able to make millions of girls swoon painting his lips. Your aunt’s hand moved in the air, spurring his presentation on in an embarrassing way. “I’m uh- I’m Deborah’s boyfriend,”
The silence that filled the room only highlighted the assistant’s shock even more. Matthew Tkachuk literally had told her entire family he was her boyfriend. What the actual fuck.
“Oh my God! And you weren’t gonna tell me, Debs?!”
Her aunt pulled her in a bone crushing hug, hopefully not noticing the panic evident on her features. “Finally! I thought you were going to stay single forever!”
Deborah pushed out a fake giggle, looking up at Matthew with confusion in her eyes. What she got in return was a wink, the smile on her fake-boyfriend’s lips spurring her to keep the act going.
“Dinner is served, everyone!”
Debby had to refrain herself from pushing out a sigh of relief, her hand lacing with Matthew’s as she tapped her mother’s shoulder. “I gotta talk to Matt, we will be back in a second, I swear,”
Without waiting for a response, Deborah pushed past the people surrounding them before reaching the closest bathroom, locking the door behind the two of them. “Matthew, what the hell are we doing?”
The chuckle that left his lips made her eyebrows furrow, arms wrapping over her chest. “This is no joke! Now my entire family thinks we’re together!”
“Let’s just act like we are, then,” he pointed, shoulders shrugging as he let his fingertips play with the edge of her dress. “You look beautiful, by the way,”
Ignoring the way her cheeks heated up and her heart started racing, Debby pushed him down to sit on the edge of the bathtub. “God, why did you do that?”
“You said you didn’t wanna face the usual nosy questions, I helped with that,” Matthew smirked, his hands inching higher until they ended up holding her waist. “All we need to do is act as if we’re in love, and that’s not hard,”
Normally, Deborah wouldn’t have paid much attention to his last remark, seeing how easy it had been for Noah to fake a relationship for PR once, but his tone held something. She couldn’t quite place it, but it made it sound like the words had a deeper meaning.
On the other hand, he was right: acting like she was in love with him would be easier than expected, because she looked at him as if he hung the stars in the sky, and she couldn’t deny it.
Deborah smiled at the genius in front of her, though, taking one last look at his glacial eyes before letting their hands slip together.
“I knew you were trouble, Matthew Tkachuk,” but God, she loved him for it.
-
Dinner went better than expected, and for the first time in years, Thanksgiving brought a smile to Deborah’s lips. Was it because Matthew was by her side? She didn’t know. What she did know, though, was how good his arms around her felt, how addicting his lips on her cheek and temple were.
By the time her relatives left her house, Deborah was still buzzing. She had drunk a glass of wine, but she wasn’t buzzed on alcohol. She was buzzed on Matthew’s attention.
The two of them stood by her parents as they waved her aunt’s white car goodbye, his strong arm wrapped around her waist as he smiled oh so tenderly.
“Dad and I are heading to sleep,” Deborah’s mother mumbled. “We can take care of the dishes tomorrow morning,”
“Alright,” was all the daughter said. “I’ll be upstairs in a few,”
Matthew wished her mother goodnight, tugging Debby along inside the household as soon as the older woman reached the top of the stairs. His eyes filled with their familiar glimmer Debby knew too well, a smile forming on her lips as he twirled her in his arms. “We should get into acting,”
“Totally,” she giggled, her arms wrapping themselves around his neck as their eyes stayed in contact. “We slayed it,”
“I knew we would,” he admitted, head so close to hers his breath fanned over her nose. “Loving you is easier than I had expected, Deborah,”
The words were unexpected, but they engraved themselves in the woman’s mind as soon as her brain recepted them. The butterflies in her stomach were making every single muscle in her body tingle, and when one of Matthew’s hands cupped her cheek, Deborah feared her legs would give up on her.
His scent invaded her senses the second he came closer, his lips ghosting over hers as the newfound moment became sweet, tender. “Can I kiss you?”
The sudden ring of his phone snatched them out of their trance, Deborah’s lungs inhaling sharply after what felt like hours. The two of them separated, her cheeks feeling warmer than normal as she watched him look at the screen with what she could only call annoyance.
The device was vibrating in his hand, but he looked like he was contemplating on whether picking up the call or not. The screen read ‘Dad’, and the grimace on his face was what made Debby’s heart clench.
“You should take it,” the words left her mouth before she could even stop them.
“I probably should,” was all he mumbled, sending her a quick look before letting his eyes focus back on the device. Just as he swiped right, Debby pushed herself to the tip of her toes, pressing a swift, lingering kiss on his cheek.
“Goodnight, Matthew,”
As she made her way up the stairs and towards her room, Deborah let her cold fingertips graze the spot where his hand had rested, right on her cheek. She felt like a teenager in love again, a frustrated one, though.
Though they had almost had their first kiss together twice, something had always been in the way. First Noah, then Matthew’s father. Why was everyone keeping her from kissing him?
She wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him again and let their lips meet, but the universe had been thinking otherwise for what felt like ages. As Debby sat on her bed - still too happy to give up on all the newfound emotions -, she wondered what his lips would taste like, what it would feel like to be his.
After another moment of thinking, she forgot about everyone and everything and rushed down the stairs. The first floor was empty, but the lights in the basement were still casting shade over the stairs, inviting her to step closer.
As she rushed down that smaller flight of stairs too, Debby wondered if it was the right time to do it. To finally live her life a little. She swung the door open, Matthew’s light eyes rushing up from his dark phone screen to her face, a look of shock evident in them.
He sprung to his feet and caught her right before she could fall in his arms. She took a second to wrap her arms around his neck, letting their lips meet in the sweetest kiss she’d ever experienced.
His lips felt softer than clouds, so gentle against hers she thought she could faint; his arms - tight around her waist - were keeping Deborah close to his body, their warmth familiar. Everything about the moment was perfect, from the way their bodies fit together, to the way she started to struggle for breath.
They parted ways just when they couldn’t take it anymore, their foreheads meeting tenderly as they caught their breaths. “Wow,” the breathed exclamation made Debby giggle, Matthew’s plush lips painting with a smile as he admired her. “That was-”
“That was fucking awesome,” she finished his line, giggling at how childish she sounded. With a shake of her head, she let herself untangle from him, her body missing his warmth. “I uh- I probably should go to sleep,”
Deborah’s gaze was stuck on her feet, rising to meet his eyes just when his thumb and pointer finger lifted up her chin. There was a second before he leaned down to give the woman one last sweet kiss, his lips tenderly moving against hers before parting again.
“Good night, Debby,”
-
Deborah wrapped her cardigan tighter around herself as she leaned on the railing of the balcony overlooking her garden, watching the sunset longingly. The silence surrounding her was peaceful, and she felt relaxed, happy to be free for one last day.
“You’re gonna catch a cold, again,”
Debby turned around to face Matthew with a smile on her lips, jokingly rolling her eyes as he wrapped an arm around her. “I’m pretty sure colds don’t work like that,”
He chuckled, turning around to face the setting sun too. A feeling of déjà vu sent shivers down the woman’s spine, even if she knew that it wasn’t just a sensation: her and Matthew had experienced the sunset together before, it wasn’t just a feeling.
“Thank you for letting me come along,” he mumbled, a hand soothingly playing with her hair as he looked at the sky. “Your family is great,”
His words held a small hint of sadness, so subtle yet present enough to let Debby catch onto it. A part of her wanted to know what caused this sadness every time someone’s family was mentioned, the other wanted to let him take his time, talk about it whenever he was ready.
She had never been too patient in her entire life: as a kid, she’d stay awake during Christmas Eve’s night just to wake up as soon as the sun rose to open presents; as a teenager, she felt frustrated whenever she’d have to wait months to see her favorite artists in concerts. It was something she had always hated, but was never able to control.
For Matthew, though, Deborah was willing to wait.
“You know, I haven’t really had a Thanksgiving like this ever since I was sixteen,” he admitted, voice taking a gravelly tone as he avoided her eyes. “Ever since uh- the band grew famous, I guess,”
Debby watched his features take a bitter tone as he kept his gaze focused on the orange landscape. “You don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t feel like it, Matt,”
“Someone needs to know,” he sighed, shrugging gingerly before glancing her way. “The guys know I’m not close with my family, but they don’t know why. I trust you, and I want you to know,”
Panic set Deborah’s body on fire as she realized she was the first person to know about his family situation. He trusted her.
“My dad played hockey professionally for almost twenty years, it was in my blood to follow after his footsteps,” he started, interrupting her inner panicked conversation. “I was on skates before I could even walk, had a stick in my hand before I learned how to write, skated behind a puck before I even made friends. He thought it was in my blood.
“But, fuck, when I first saw a drum set at the age of five and heard my first rock song a few days later, I couldn’t care less about hockey and what my dad wanted. I started playing at a friend’s house: his sister owned a drum kit and let me use it twice a week, and music made me happy in a way hockey couldn’t,” Matthew admitted. “I played behind everyone’s backs just so they wouldn’t get disappointed in me. I’d go to hockey practice and work my ass off to make my father happy, then I’d get on my bike and ride to my friend’s neighborhood to play the drums.
“I took music during High School, and my teacher saw me play. He wanted me to join the school’s band, but I needed my parents’ signatures for that, and I didn’t want them to know. Eventually, he accidentally told them I should have pursued my dreams and that night was a fucking mess,” he sighed. “My mom, she- she didn’t mind, she was proud of me. She was happy I was doing what I really wanted to do, even if it was behind their backs. My dad, on the other hand, was pissed that his firstborn son wasn’t following his father’s footsteps. He had never been one for music,”
Debby let one of her hands slip into his, squeezing his palm gently to send him a non-verbal message of comfort. He was safe to speak, with her. “You know, I was his pride and joy growing up. He saw me playing ever since I was a child, and when he lost all hope in me when he learned about me playing the drums, it hurt. He loves my brother and sister because they do what he did, my brother even plays professionally like his old man. I was the disappointment of the family, in his eyes.
“I barely even remember how Chordback got together, but we got famous quickly, and I moved out as soon as possible. I wanted to enjoy my life without being under his disappointed glares, you know?” He sighed, shaking his head slightly. “Now I barely go home, and my mom hates it,”
There was a moment of silence as Deborah took in his story, shock filling her body as she breathed out shakily. “Matthew, I’m so sorry-”
“Don’t be,” he chuckled, shrugging as he let his eyes meet hers. “Mine isn’t a sob story,”
“So, he called?” She asked, remembering Matthew’s father had called a few nights prior.
“He wished me a happy Thanksgiving. Mumbled the usual bullshit about the fact that they miss me, that I should go home to at least see my mother,” he sighed. “Same stuff Taryn said over the phone a few months ago,”
Debby bit her lip, watching his tense body as he ran a hand through his hair. She didn’t know what to say. She had never expected him to have a story like that: he always looked fine, not a worry in his eyes as he went along with the flow. Yet, so much was hidden behind the barrier that kept the world away from his fragile heart.
Debby did the only thing that seemed to make sense in her mind, which was wrap him in a hug. He didn’t reciprocate the embrace for a second, but when his arms wrapped around her waist and his head dropped to the crook of her neck, she knew he needed it.
He needed someone to stabilize him for a second, to silently tell him everything was going to be alright, even if he felt like life was not okay.
She held him until he let go of her, because she remembered her grandma’s words: you never know how much someone needs a hug, so don’t let go until they do.
And by the time the two of them went back to watch the sunset, the future looked clearer.
-----
Life went back in full swing the moment Debby set foot in Calgary, Matthew by her side. Her phone rang with a call from Jean when the two of them went to pick up their bags at the airport, and the overwhelming nerves that came with working in the music industry made their way back in her system.
Days went by before she knew it, her head living in a limbo where all that mattered was her job. And Matthew.
Thanksgiving night couldn’t leave Debby’s head, and she didn’t want it to. She found herself thinking about it at night, alone in her cold bed as she begged for some rest, but her mind always thought otherwise.
Seeing Matt at work wasn’t easy either: her hands tingled, wanting to touch him; her lips begged to be kissed again, and she couldn’t just take it anymore. Staying away from him was what she was bound to do with her job, but all she wanted was to be his.
But it almost seemed like he didn’t reciprocate the feeling. There was distance, a lack of communication that was needed between the two of them. How could she figure out what the two of them were, if he didn’t talk to her? That was what Debby kept asking herself.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a familiar hand on her shoulder, Noah’s eyes the first thing Deborah saw after daydreaming. “We’re boarding,”
“Alright,” she nodded her head, inhaling sharply before rolling her suitcase behind herself. The band was headed to New York again, and her and Jean were coming along for the ride, as per usual.
Growing up, traveling was something Debby had always wished to do, especially when she had reached her teen years. Taking the opportunity to become Chordback’s PA meant that she would have been traveling non-stop, and she had been ecstatic when she landed the job.
Looking back at it, Deborah’s happiness was still there, and saying she loved her job was an understatement. Did she wish for a break every once in a while - even from traveling? Yes, but the music industry never went to sleep.
Debby followed the band towards the plane, her eyes focusing on the sunny sky until the back of a familiar hand ghosted over hers. She looked up to see Matthew’s side profile, a trail of warmth filling her chest when his skin brushed hers, the sleeves of their coats hiding the motions from everyone else surrounding them.
Shivers rushed down her spine as the cold wind pushed her hair out of her face and, eventually, Matthew left her side, her high hopes of seeing any kind of emotion from him slowly lowering. Debby walked up the few small stairs that led inside the jet, shock stopping her right on the last step.
The woman that was greeting the team was smiling widely, her brunette hair pulled into a tight bun as she sported the sharpest uniform Debby had ever seen. She looked beautiful, confidence spilling out of her body as she shook the personal assistant’s hand.
“I’ll be your new pilot,”
A smile broke out on Deborah’s face, so wide she was scared it might get stuck there. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,”
By the time she reached her spot next to Jean, she felt quite confused, though. Why had the pilot been fired? Debby was sure nobody had caught onto the way he had been acting with her and how uncomfortable he had her feeling, so why was he gone?
Jean seemed to read her mind. “Matthew fired the old pilot right before Thanksgiving,” she whispered as she touched up her signature red lipstick. “He said the guy was a perv to the flight assistants,”
Deborah nodded her head along, eyes meeting with Matthew’s. She knew he had been listening to her conversation with Jean all along by the smug look on his face. “Yeah Jean, I also beat him up. Just thought you should know,”
The lipstick in her hand almost fell to the floor, a smudge of red painting the corner of her mouth as her eyes widened. “You what?!”
“I gave him his last paycheck to make him keep his mouth shut, don’t worry,”
“Matthew, that’s even worse!” She screeched, hands shaking as she searched through her purse to find her phone. “Oh my God-”
“The guy deserved it, Jean,” Matthew continued, voice becoming serious. “He was harassing the assistants and- and Deborah,”
The attention inside the plane shifted towards the woman in question, her heart beating out of her chest as an infinite amount of questions rushed through her mind. How did he notice? Had it been that obvious?
“Debby, is it true?” Jean said in a whisper, shock evident in her voice as her eyes stayed on the assistant’s features.
“I-I mean,” she stuttered, shrugging slightly. “It wasn’t anything too big, but it sure was creepy,”
“You could have told me sooner,” the manager said, her warm hand resting on Deborah’s forearm in a reassuring manner. “I would have tried to fire him as soon as possible,”
Debby gave her another shrug before shutting up, not wanting to discuss the matter any further. She felt embarrassed enough to let a man do that to her and not react, but when Matthew - the man she had more than a crush on - found out about the entire situation? She had never been more embarrassed.
She popped her earbuds in and watched the land fly past her from her window, hoping that everyone would forget about the matter by the time they landed. It wasn’t the case, though.
It was almost night by the time the band arrived in New York, to say Debby was more than tired to reciprocate the kind smiles coming from the hotel clerks was an understatement. Her room card was handed to her after just a few minutes, and the thought of crashing on a bed almost had her yawning.
Matthew walked past her, sending a small smile her way before the doors of his elevator closed. She had been successful at blocking any thought regarding the flight, but the questions still kept her curious, even in her tired state.
Deborah headed towards her room, catching one last glimpse of the drummer disappearing behind her neighboring door. She blew out a sigh, getting inside her room and letting her suitcase fall to the floor, ready to slip into comfortable clothing and get in bed.
With the covers up to her chin, though, her eyes just couldn’t close. Debby found herself staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city still awake at the ungodly hour, just like her.
As pathetic as it sounded, she wanted nothing more than to know how Matthew had found out, or even why he had taken it upon himself to fire the pilot. Why had he been so selfless?
The questions kept her awake, and all she wanted was just to sleep. She knew, though, that her body wouldn’t rest until her mind shut down, too.
She pushed the covers away, slipping a pair of slippers on and leaving the room sluggishly, eyes tired. As Deborah stopped in front of Matthew’s door, she felt suddenly awake. Nerves started to make her anxious, and she had to push herself to knock before she could rush back to her room with her tail between her legs.
There was a second before the door opened, Matthew looking quite tired too as he ran a hand through his messy hair. “Deb?”
“How did you find out?”
From the look on his face, Debby knew she didn’t need to elaborate her words, to explain what she really wanted to know.
“Come in,” was all he mumbled, opening the door wider for her. She followed his instruction, entering the room that looked the exact copy of hers before sitting down on the corner of his bed.
There was a moment of silence as he stood in front of her, tattooed arms folding over his chest as he bit his bottom lip. For a second, Deborah’s body lit up on fire, craving to feel his lips pressing against hers. She came back to reality and cooled down when she remembered why she was in his room. She needed answers.
“I uh- I noticed you always disassociated when we boarded the plane,” Matthew started, the look on his face turning serious when his eyes met with hers. “And at first I thought you were just scared of heights or something, but it didn’t make any sense,
“Then the other week I boarded the plane behind you and that motherfucker started hitting on you,” his voice became darker, a hint of protectiveness in his tone Debby had never found before making her hands tremble. “And it was clear you weren’t reciprocating,”
“You didn’t need to do that for me, you know?”
“I wanted to,” he admitted. “I couldn’t stand seeing you like that. I have a sister, and I wouldn’t be able to be at peace with myself if I knew something like that was happening to her and didn’t do anything to keep her safe, and same applies to you,”
Deborah tried not to acknowledge the warmth inside her chest as her eyes fell to her lap, a sigh leaving her lips. “It wasn’t worth it, Matthew. If people find out you hurt him, there will be chaos,”
“Everything I do for you is worth it, Debby,” he whispered, pushing her chin upwards so their eyes could meet, his orbs laced with fondness. “Even if it means I’ll have to punch a perv and ruin my career. Why can’t you understand that?”
The woman shook her head, repressing a small smile before sighing again.
“I need you to be safe, Deborah,” he whispered, voice as tender as a cloud as he spoke to her. “I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened to you without me even noticing,”
The words had tears well up in her eyes, but she fought the urge to let them streak down her face. Nobody had ever cared that much about her, and she felt full of something she couldn’t quite place. Love? Fondness?
“Promise me you’ll stay safe,” he asked, voice shallow as he cupped her cheek.
“I promise,”
His body inched closer to hers, the only thing separating the two of them being a thin layer of air. His lips fell on Deborah’s after a second, sweetly carefree as she got lost in his scent, his presence.
He was kissing her. She felt more than confused from all the times she felt like he had been avoiding her, but he was kissing her, and she ignored any red flag she could have possibly thought about.
Debby wished to never let go, but her body reminded her that she was more than tired by making her legs give out on her, her embarrassed laugh ending the kiss. “I’m uh- I’m exhausted from today, I should probably go to sleep,”
Matthew nodded, a silent smile painting his slightly swollen lips as he pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Of course you will,”
-----
Tomorrow was quite eventful, though. Deborah woke up late, the sound of her alarm not being loud enough to wake her from her deep slumber; she stumbled around her room to get dressed up, sending a quick text to the band to tell them she was going to be late to breakfast, receiving a string of messages explaining they were going to wait for her.
When she left her room, Debby was still half asleep. She registered the voices of the guys, and she registered Matthew’s soft smile, but she went on autopilot when she followed the boys towards the breakfast spot.
Her rough, real awakening happened in front of the café, where an unfamiliar girl was waiting for them - or, at least, Noah. She was tall, hair a beautiful shade of blond as a breathtaking smile painted her lips, directed to Noah and Noah only.
It looked like she only had eyes for him, and from the way the lead didn’t shy away from her attention, Debby realized who she really was. Aleena.
There was a brief moment where they hugged, sharing a laugh as Noah bent down to press a kiss on her cheek before turning around to face Deborah and the rest of the band. As the assistant looked around in pure shock, she noticed that Johnny, Matthew and Elias all shared her same expression.
“Guys, this is Aleena,” Noah said, holding back laughter at the looks on their faces. “She’ll be joining us for breakfast, I hope this isn’t a problem,”
“Uh, no! Not at all!” Debby exclaimed, pushing herself out of her trance to shake the girl’s hand. “I’m Deborah, the band’s personal assistant,”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Aleena said, a gentle smile on her lips. The few minutes that followed the encounter were spent with introductions, a thin layer of shock still coating the air as everyone got inside the café to place their orders.
“Damn,” Matthew whispered from behind Debby, chuckling as they queued behind other people. “I wasn’t expecting him to introduce her this soon,”
“Me neither,” the assistant admitted, looking at him with a smile. “She’s nice, though,”
He nodded, agreeing with her as she moved forward, repeating her order in her head. “You think they’re going public?” Deborah asked, checking her phone for the time before looking back up, waiting for an answer.
“I think Jean is in the dark about this as much as we were,” Matt mumbled, letting his hands rest on her shoulders subconsciously, her heart skipping a beat at his touch. “So I think he has to tell her first,”
Debby nodded her head, a smile forming on her lips when she came face-to-face with the barista. She placed her order calmly, reaching for her wallet when the moment to pay arrived.
“I’ve got it,”
Matthew placed his order and paid for the both of them, not even giving the assistant enough time to fight and pay for her own stuff. “Well, thank you, then,” she said, jokingly rolling her eyes as they grabbed their drink and headed for their table, the drummer sitting next to her after a few seconds.
He had talked to her, paid for her drink, touched her shoulder. At that point, Debby was asking herself where they really were standing. There were moments when she felt like a stranger to him, when he barely even sent a smile her way; other times - mostly behind closed doors -, it felt like she was his, but just when it was needed, not always.
The empty table became quite crowded after everyone sat down with their breakfast. “So, new album and tour this year, boys,” Elias smirked, taking a sip of his coffee. “Missed that shit,”
“Album drops in a month, so you’ve still got some time to put some final touches,” Deborah pointed out. “Then tour is in a couple of months,”
A few nods came from around the table, her eyes settling on Aleena as she silently sipped on what Deborah could only guess was a latte. “Are you coming along, Aleena?”
The new addition seemed to be shocked by Debby’s question, almost choking on her drink as she opened her mouth to speak. “I uh- we haven’t really talked about it, yet,” she said, looking up at Noah with so much admiration it made the assistant’s heart clench.
Debby nodded, smiling her way before sipping her drink, a hint of jealousy of what the couple had sending shivers down her spine. Breakfast went faster than she had expected as she found herself talking to Noah’s girlfriend with the group and enjoying her company, and by the time they left the place, Deborah was sad to leave Aleena behind.
The band needed to get to the studio to discuss the upcoming release and tour, though, and the group and Aleena had to part ways.
“I think we should celebrate,” Elias pointed out, leaning on his chair with his arm behind his head. “Have a few drinks, go to a club,”
“We haven’t even released the news, Elias,” Jean sighed, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Why not, though? We could just have a party before everything gets released, just us,”
Jean spit out a laugh at the ‘just us’, making the guitarist scowl jokingly. “Back to the album. It’s done, then?”
“Almost,” Noah corrected. “We could pull an all-nighter tonight and just finish it,”
Matthew nodded, followed by Johnny and Elias. Everything seemed to be on board, and Deborah felt happy. The band was back to normal: the fights had come to a halt, they were about to release their newest - and best, by far - album, and they were going on tour again.
One thing was holding back her happiness, though, and it was confusion.
What the hell was happening with Matthew?
The walk from the café to the studio had been enough to send her in a spiral of thoughts, finally realizing that what was going on between the two of them wasn’t quite right. For some reason, she wanted nothing more but to know where she stood in his life, if she mattered or if she was just another groupie.
Bitterness filled her mouth as she found him staring, embarrassment making her feel numb. It had taken her so long to realize that he was playing a game, and she felt stupid.
Debby lifted herself up from her chair, grabbing her purse. “I’ll head out to take a breather,”
And when he didn’t even spare her a glance, she knew she needed to figure out what was really happening between the two of them.
Deborah wasn’t another fucking groupie, that she was sure of.
-
“Alright, we’re almost done, guys,” Noah mumbled, eyes cast on the laptop sitting in front of him as Johnny stood behind him, arms folded over his chest.
“Final touches?” Elias popped from the bathroom, still drying his hands with a paper towel.
“Yeah,” Matt murmured. The drummer was sitting on the couch right in front of Deborah’s, a look she couldn’t quite read painting his features.
The all-nighter the guys had pulled had been going on for hours, and she was quite tired. The moon was peeking over a thick set of curtains, wishing to get her attention by painting a white streak inside the studio. Her head was pounding, but she wanted to assist to the start of Chordback’s new era. Sleep wasn’t on her schedule, at least until the band finally was done.
The late hour was taking a toll on everyone, but even through their almost bloodshot eyes, Debby could tell the guys were more awake than they had ever been. The air felt exciting, and she felt like she had nothing to lose.
“And we’re done,”
Noah’s words had the entire room in silence, even the rustling of the wind outside came to a halt when he spoke. Debby’s heart raced, a smile forming on her lips as she looked up at the lead, nothing but respect in her eyes.
“Holy fucking shit-” Elias whisper-yelled, running a hand through his messy hair before breaking the silence with a shocked laugh. “Holy shit-”
“We’re done!” Johnny exclaimed, his voice louder than his bandmate’s.
“Fuck yes,” Matthew smirked, throwing a fist in the air in celebration before pulling Noah in a hug. “We did it, man,”
Deborah congratulated the boys, hugging each one of them like a proud little sister before she got to Matthew, her heart clenching. Where the hell did she stand? “Good job, Matt,” she smiled awkwardly, leaning in to give him a quick side hug.
“Deb-”
“Should we pop a bottle open?” Elias asked, his frame hunched over the minibar. When he rose back to his full height, he was holding a bottle of champagne, his familiar smirk keeping the left corner of his mouth up.
“Hell yes!” Noah chuckled, looking around to find some flutes only to find himself helpless: there weren’t glasses to celebrate with. Debby didn’t need him to even send a glance her way, her hands already gathering her stuff.
“Debby, can we-”
“I’ll go get someone for you,” she said to the lead, slinging her purse over her shoulder. “I was heading out anyway,”
“Already? Darling, this is the best part and you’re leaving,” Elias said, voice holding the flirty tone that she knew he couldn’t even control.
“I’m sure we can celebrate when the dates will be released,” Deborah winked his way, opening the door and stopping right before she could walk inside the fancy hallway. She turned around, facing all of them before pointing a finger their way. “Don’t do anything stupid,”
“Yes, ma’am,” was the only answer she could hear as she stepped out of the room, reaching the closest desk where Maria - the kind receptionist she grew to be friends with - was smiling, not a trace of tiredness in her dark eyes.
“Maria, can you please send some flutes to Chordback’s studio?” She asked, slipping her coat on just as some footsteps started to sound behind her. “They just finished their album,”
“Of course. Heading out?”
“Yes,” she sighed, stopping in her tracks just when she heard a familiar voice calling her name.
“Deborah, wait,”
Matthew was rushing down the hallway, hair stuck in an unusual nest as he sported a confused look. Another sigh left Debby’s lips, her eyelids closing as she turned around to face him. “What, Matthew?”
“What’s up with you? Did I do something wrong?”
“What do you mean what’s up with me?”
“You’ve been acting weird, today,” he pointed out. “You were okay this morning, and then you gave me the cold shoulder the entire day. Really, what the hell have I done?”
“What the fuck are we doing, Matt?”
His eyebrows furrowed as he received a question, instead of an answer. His mouth opened but closed again, only to leave the woman with silence. She took it upon herself to keep the conversation going. “Because our points of view are clearly not the same,”
“What are you talking about, sweetheart?”
The pet name made Deborah flinch, her heart doing a forbidden cartwheel as she cursed herself for even feeling that way during an argument. “I’m talking about the fact that we kissed on Thanksgiving, you protected me from that fucking asshole of a pilot, asked me to promise to be safe, and I still don’t know whether you want this to happen or not!” The words came out louder than she had expected, but she didn’t care. She was exasperated and she needed to know. “And, for God’s sake, don’t call me sweetheart,”
Deborah was faced with another moment of silence, Matthew’s face taking an expression she couldn’t quite read. She had never heard silence that loud, and his lack of words was enough to answer every single question of hers.
“I don’t have time for your silence, I’m heading out,” Debby spat out, clutching her bag closer before muttering her next words. “I’ll see you tomorrow,”
When she had first thought about confronting Matthew, she thought it wasn’t going to affect her. But by the time she left the tall skyscraper, remembering the conversation the two of them had had on its top at sunset, she couldn’t tell if the wetness on her face was formed by the rain or the tears.
She felt empty, even if the argument was for the best. She had done nothing to deserve to get played by a man like Matthew - rich, with nothing to lose - and she knew her worth. But God, did it hurt.
Deborah’s hopes had been over the roof from the start, but he had just led her on, like men like him do with groupies. He needed to figure out what he felt and where he wanted things to go, because she already knew where she stood about that.
Noah and Aleena were happy, so happy. They looked like they were fitted perfectly for each other. Naively, she had thought she and Matthew could have been the same.
But clearly, a happy ending in her love life still wasn’t planned.
-----
“Okay, so Rolling Stones interview on the fifth?” She asked Jean, eyes stuck on her laptop as she scrolled through Chordback’s schedule. “The day after the album release? Wow,”
“Yeah, they were begging us to be the first ones to get an interview,” Jean sighed, sipping on her coffee before looking down at her own papers. “Then we have a few more interviews,”
“And all the radio interviews during-”
“Flowers for Deborah?”
The words had the assistant frowning in confusion, her eyes turning up to see a delivery man standing on the doorway of the meeting room. He held a large bouquet of flowers, the composition looking lovely even from the distance.
Debby rose from her chair with uncertainty clear in her features, grabbing the bouquet from his larger hands. “You sure it’s for Deborah? I haven’t received flowers ever since graduation,”
The man chuckled, the smile not quite reaching his eyes as he checked his watch, probably in a rush. “100% sure. Have a nice day, ma’am,”
He was out of eyesight before she could even thank him - or ask him to check again -, her eyes focusing on the gift in her hands as the room filled with silence. Who the hell could have sent her flowers? A small whistle brought the woman back to reality, making her turn around to face Jean. “Secret admirer?”
Was it her ex? “I didn’t even know I had one,”
Deborah’s fingers caressed the delicate petals until something sharp came in contact with her skin. The small piece of paper was looking up at her as if it was begging to be read, her heart hammering as she let her fingertips graze over it.
I know this isn’t much, but it is the start. - M
“Oh my God,” she muttered under your breath, sighing loudly. Matthew?
And he didn’t lie in the note: with each and every passing day, gifts were waiting for Debby at her hotel door, at the recording label, even in her bathroom. She had received multiple bouquets of flowers, a cute tote bag she had seen on a specific Etsy store and mumbled about for weeks, skincare products she still was missing, and what the hell?
Every single present was paired with a message written in Matthew’s chicken scratch, his words meaningful even through paper, and what the fuck was happening?!
Jean would strangle out a laugh every time she’d see a new gift waiting for Deborah, muttering about the fact that not even her ex-husband was as passionate about forgiveness after cheating as Matthew was. Though she looked completely fine on the outside, Debby didn’t know how to feel.
In some ways, she felt childish for even arguing with him: he was a busy man, he didn’t have time for relationships. At the same time, though, she felt like she deserved more than to be played like a game, like she was nothing more than a stranger to him.
Certainly, getting spoiled by the man she almost yelled at really didn’t help with making Deborah feel like what she did was right, especially since it looked like he was trying his everything to get one last chance.
“Are you ever going to forgive this poor secret admirer?” Jean asked, eyes not even leaving her paper as Debby sat in front of her, miserably looking at the pins she had just received. The pastel-colored items she had liked on Instagram just a few days prior felt cold in the assistant’s hands, and it wasn’t the first time she’d started questioning her life choices. “He looks like he’s desperately trying to win you back,”
“And he is,” Deborah sighed, burying her face in her hands before looking up at the ceiling. “I feel like it was stupid of me to start a fight, you know?”
“Why don’t you just talk to him, then?” In some ways, the assistant was thankful Jean didn’t know Matthew was the main character of the conversation.
“Because I’m scared he’ll hate me,”
The woman laughed loudly, making Deborah turn as small as an ant right in front of her. “Open your eyes, will you, girl? The man is whipped. A man who doesn’t know a woman’s worth wouldn’t chase or wait for her,”
Her words engraved themselves in Debby’s mind, their truth so candid she couldn’t even question it. She remembered what her grandma had told her after her first big heartbreak: there’s plenty of fish in the sea, but Deborah knew her gran’s advice wouldn’t apply with Matthew’s situation.
“I just- I don’t know what to do,”
“Has he been good to you? Has he treated you well?” Jean asked, her eyes boring into Debby’s when she nodded her head. “Then don’t think and do whatever your heart tells you to do,”
The assistant watched her for a swift second, lifting herself up from her chair and grabbing her purse. “I’m heading off,”
“Use protection!” Jean yelled behind her, a laugh leaving her lips before she mumbled under her breath. “God, when did I start being so poetic?”
With her heart hammering against her rib cage, Debby rushed through the busy streets of New York, meeting Matthew being the only thought on her mind. To her luck, the hotel the band was staying in was not too far away from their studio, and by the time she opened her room door to get rid of her coat, she wasn’t too exhausted.
She was confused, though. Sitting right under her feet was a piece of paper, the writing so familiar. She grabbed it from the floor, skimming through the words before realization struck her like lightning.
It was a song.
Matthew had written her a song.
Tears welled up in Deborah’s eyes as she read, hands shaking as she bit her lip. She couldn’t let him go.
It was a love song, the words so gentle and heart-clenching. Admiration, love, and passion were spilling out of them in waves Deborah wasn’t ready to let go of yet, so she read it another time. And then another, and another, and another.
She walked out of the room with tears streaming down her face - not caring if other guests saw her in the meantime - still holding the notebook page in her hand. As she faced his door, something inside her seemed to turn on: nervousness.
What if he wasn’t at the hotel? What if her silence had made him give up?
All her questions got an answer when Matthew opened the door, a tired look on his face. His hair was a mess, and he didn’t look like his normal self, like Matthew.
“Deborah?”
“You wrote me a song?”
The drummer sighed, opening the door wider to let the woman in. “I uh- I started writing it a few months ago, when everything started, you know-”
His room was dark, but Debby could make out his half-packed suitcase, his clothes sitting messily all over the floor. The thought made its way in her head, but it seemed so out of character for Matthew that she couldn’t even believe it was real. The whole conversation about the song dropped. “You- are you leaving?”
“I have no reason to stay here,” he sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair before slightly cleaning up. “Album is done, and we have a few weeks before our first interview. Also, I kind of grasped the two of us are actually done, so I really didn’t have a purpose here,”
His lonely words had Deborah’s heart clenching, her smaller hand clutching his as she turned around to face him. “I love you,” she breathed out shakily, the three-worded sentence she had been thinking about for months finally slipping out of her parted lips. “I love you so much, and I fucked up,”
Matthew looked shocked as he took in her words, eyes slowly widening. “Deb-”
“I know it’s too soon, you don’t have to say it back, but I felt like you should have known,” she said, breathing out a sigh of relief as a weight she didn’t know she was holding was pushed off her shoulders. “You’re a busy man, relationships probably aren’t what you want at the moment, and it wasn’t my place to get pissed off,”
“I love you, Deborah,” he admitted. “I wasn’t kidding when I said that loving you was easier than I had expected,”
Another set of tears had her eyes burning, her hand intertwining with his as she looked up at him. “I’ve never been good with words, or emotions, and that’s why there was miscommunication between us,”
“Fuck-” Deborah closed her eyes, guilt rushing through her. “I’m fucking awful, this is all my fault,”
“Hey, it was bound to happen, at some point. To be honest, I probably should have made it clear that I loved you a long time ago, I don’t know what was holding me back,” Matthew said, gently cradling her face. “But we’re here now, and we’re fine,”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, emotions spilling from her words as she watched him through her teary gaze. “I’m so sorry,”
“I don’t want you to be,” he murmured back, letting his thumbs brush a few tears away. There was a beat as his warm breath fanned over her features, her eyes focusing on his stormy ones as silence settled between them. She was in his arms, the two of them were okay. “Debby?”
“Hm?”
“I want the world to know how much you mean to me,” he whispered in her ear, his voice sending shivers down her spine. “I want to make you mine,”
“Say the words, Matt,” Deborah murmured, arms wrapping around his neck as her lips ghosted his. “Say the words and I’ll be yours,”
There was a beat, a long one, before Matthew let his lips brush hers in a gentle - but desperate - kiss. The drummer’s hands were everywhere as the two of them kissed, not a worry in the world as her back hit the soft comforter of the room’s bed.
“Be mine, Deborah,” Matthew breathed out when his lips left hers, his orbs maintaining eye contact. “I’ll find a way to give you my world,”
She bit her lip, smiling as she watched the man in front of her - the man she loved - offer her his love with just the power of his words.
“You already do, Matt,” Debby whispered, bringing him closer to press another kiss to his slightly-swollen lips. “I’m yours,”
-----
“Why the fuck am I nervous? I’m not even going on stage,” Deborah mumbled, words coming out rushed as she stood outside the green room with Aleena, her friend’s laughter filling her ears.
“They’ve been doing this for years, hun. They’re probably not even nervous themselves,” Noah’s girlfriend said, voice gentle as her arm wrapped around Debby’s. “And we both know they’re going to kill it,”
“That’s true,” the personal assistant nodded her head, taking a sip of her water just as the door of the room opened, Chordback coming out looking as mesmerizing as ever. They were a mess of tattoos and pearly white smiles, ready to take on the first stage of the tour and make the crowd go wild.
Noah, in his old-school-love fashion, wrapped Aleena in his arms, owning a little squeal as he lifted her off the floor. “Put me down, idiot!”
Elias and Johnny, too busy talking to each other about their improvised solos, didn’t even glance Deborah��s way, heading towards the stage by following the staff. Matthew, on the other hand, took a moment to let his eyes focus on his girl.
“You look beautiful,” he said, voice low as he wrapped his arms around her waist. Debby’s sundress clung to her body the way she knew he loved, and the smile on his face was enough to make the butterflies in her stomach start their never-ending dance.
“You don’t look too bad yourself,” she giggled, taking his hand and leading him towards the side of the stage, where everyone was standing. The other band that was opening the concert was still going strong, the crowd enjoying the background music as they waited for Chordback to start their tour with a bang.
The last few notes of a song she had heard many times before owned claps and screams from the public, a few whistles also shaking the arena. Debby stood next to Aleena as she smiled, the feeling of hearing the public again making the assistant’s legs almost give up on her.
She had started her job when the band was already almost at the end of their second tour, and it had been a chaotic way to start her first job in the music industry. She hadn’t been able to get to know the band members, and she hadn’t been able to enjoy even a bit of traveling.
That time, though, it was different. She was there as Chordback’s personal assistant, but also as Matthew’s girlfriend. The experience itself was going to be new, unexpected.
“Good luck,” she told Matt just as the opening band started to leave the stage. Debby leaned up on the tip of her toes, pressing a kiss to his lips.
“I don’t need that,” he smirked, winking down at her before kissing her again, this time passionately. “I already have my lucky charm with me,”
Deborah shook her head, pushing out a giggle as he backed off, tugging the drumsticks from his back pocket. “Cheesy, Matthew,”
“What do you expect from me?”
As the stage grew dark, the band entered the stage, filling their designed spots just as a few yells and cheers filled the air. The first sound came from Matthew’s drumsticks, and the place lit up as the opening song started, the song that had brought the newest album to the top of the charts: Aleena’s song.
Matthew smiled Deborah’s way gingerly as he started to play, her heart skipping a beat. As she watched him play, she couldn’t exactly tell why all the fondness inside her body seemed to come out just then. It felt strange.
Though after a few moments of wondering, she realized what it really was. Proudness. Deborah was proud of the little kid that snuck out of the house to practice the drums in a house five blocks away, she was proud of the teenager that followed his dreams even when his father was disappointed in him. She was proud of Matthew and the man he had become.
She was proud of him, and she loved him, more than she loved herself.
Matthew was her home, her safe place. He was a part of the life she was hoping to bring along in the future, and he was the person she wanted to wake up next to every morning.
Back at her childhood home during Thanksgiving, he had said that loving her was easier than he had expected.
He hadn’t realized, though, that loving him was the easiest part of Deborah’s life. A part that she was willing to carry with her for the rest of her life.
Taglist: @thirstyybitch @bellaguarneri @boqvistsbabe @trashforbarzal @tonguetiedstan @keithseabrook27 @heatherawoowoo @tysonsjosty
#matthew tkachuk#matthew tkachuk x reader#matthew tkachuk imagine#nhl x reader#calgary flames#hockey imagine
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Through the Smoke
Request: could you do spencer x bau reader where they aren't dating yet but they both feel for each other? where both spencer and reader are very closed off people and the whole team knows that. but after one rough case on the flight back, they're both just exhausted mentally and physically and seek comfort in each other. then spend the night at reader's apartment and kiss for the first time there. sorry if this is specific but thank you (:
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader
Category: angst with a happy ending
Warnings/Includes: typical CM stuff, cults, kidnapping, violence, etc.
Word count: 8.1k
Music recs: Through the Fire by Jake Etheridge and Margot Todd; scared by Jeremy Zucker
a/n: anon, I have no idea if this is what you were looking for, but this is where it went. It’s a generous rewrite of 300, substituting the reader for Garcia. Also this blog operates with the understanding that the season 14 jeid arc does not exist lmao. JJ is firmly in the “I love you as a brother” camp and I will not be taking questions at this time. Also, this is a reminder that my requests are open! send me some fresh ideas, head cannons, rambles, whatever!
———
“Metro PD and the Bureau have been made aware of the Believers and possible activity following their leader’s arrest,” Prentiss confirmed, looking out over the team mingling in the bullpen. “But taking Theo at his word—”
“We only arrested three. There’s probably more out there, but if they follow cult dynamics, they’ll break down on their own without the messiah,” Matt finished.
“Typical cults: you think it’s a cast of thousands when really it’s just four whackos sitting around in the dark,” Tara mused.
Prentiss smiled. “I think we deserve some decompression time, and Rossi’s kind enough to host.”
Rossi leaned over the railing and nodded. “And I have some top shelf wine picked just for the occasion.”
The team started gathering their belongings and heading towards the elevators. Y/N hesitated, looking toward the case file still sitting on her desk. Something about how this had all wrapped up just… didn’t sit right. Her nearly five years with the Critical Incident Response Group had given her an up close view of some of the most prolific cults in American history. She’d studied Jonestown, Waco, Ruby Ridge, Liberty Ranch; new cults emerged onto CIRG’s radar regularly. And there was something about The Believers that just didn’t add up.
Y/N began shuffling things around on her desk, trying to look busy. She caught Spencer and JJ out of the corner of her eye, talking quietly. They ended their conversation with a hug, lingering just a little longer than Y/N would have preferred. She shook her head to try to physically clear the thought from her brain. She knew that Spencer had been through a lifetime’s worth of trauma before she joined the team, and that JJ had been an integral support for him. Y/N was also aware that she had zero grounds to be concerned with any of Spencer’s relationships, romantic or otherwise.
“Y/N, you coming?” JJ asked, walking toward her desk. Spencer headed out of the bullpen and down the hall.
Y/N gave her a half-hearted smile. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a little bit. Just wanted to finish up a couple things here.”
“Well, don’t stay too late.” JJ pressed her lips together for a moment before adding, “Maybe you and Spence could drive together. He said he might not make it, but if he had some company...”
Y/N hoped her immediate flush wasn’t too obvious. After nearly a year in the unit, she finally felt like she had built some solid relationships with the team, and Spencer was no exception. She relished their card games on the jet, the laughs over too-sweet coffee, discussions about books and films and music. But she also adored the way his hair sometimes curled and fell into his eyes, his animated and rambling tangents, the way his hands traced over the tiny print of his books. Most of her adult life had been spent surrounded by men who would gather up her trust in their pitted hands and crush it on a whim. She’d kept her heart behind glass for a long while, but Spencer was slowly chipping away at the fragile panels. She was certain he had no idea that he was even holding the chisel; but just about everyone else seemed to have figured it out. JJ, with her hands clasped together and an eager smile, definitely had. Y/N smiled, too. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“So we’ll see you in a bit?” When Y/N nodded, JJ gave her a warm smile and headed out.
Turning back to the case file, Y/N pressed her fingers to her temple and looked over the documents. Some of the pieces fit together, but the whole case felt littered with gaps and holes. The tale that Theo had woven about The Believers seemed true enough— his parents were simply the suppliers of potential cult members. Although, she still couldn’t figure out the reason for the kidnapping and torture. There were much easier ways to recruit vulnerable people.
She flipped past the pages of written statements and read over the report from the warehouse raid. It was short— the take down of Merva was too easy. Why was he sitting alone in an empty warehouse with only two unarmed, sleeping followers as a defense? Where was the rest of the cult? Matt was correct that most cults fall apart without their leader; unless the loss of a leader was a possibility they’d already prepared for.
The burns on Quinn’s hands didn’t make sense, either. Why use the initiation ritual as a torture device? Shouldn’t that be saved for people who had accepted the invitation? And then there was the one coincidence that nagged at her the most: what were the chances that Theo just happened to be enrolled in Spencer's course? Why did Spencer seem to be at the center of the whole thing?
Y/N sighed as her phone lit up with a message from JJ. She realized she’d been poring over the file for twenty-five minutes, and she had to laugh. As the least experienced profiler on the team, what could she possibly see that the others hadn’t? She closed the case file and quickly packed up, grabbing her jacket and bag and making her way toward the elevator lobby. She paused at the glass doors, retrieving her phone and pulling up Spencer’s contact information. Her thumb hovered over the call button for a long moment before she huffed out a breath. If even JJ hadn’t been able to convince him to go, there was no way she’d be able to change his mind. Despite herself, she glanced down the hall, allowing herself one moment to imagine an alternate timeline where she asked him to come along with her— to Rossi’s, to the moon, anywhere.
With a sigh, Y/N pushed open the glass doors and saw Agent Meadows leading Quinn to the elevator. She pushed down the little red flag in the back of her mind. As she stepped onto the elevator, she smiled politely at the two agents.
“I knew you didn’t do it. I just knew,” Meadows said to Quinn. She turned to Y/N. “And I can’t tell you what a privilege it’s been working with the A-Team on this case.”
Something about the calm in her voice made Y/N uneasy. “Yeah, it’s— um. It’s a great team to be a part of.” Her phone lit up again, this time with a phone call from JJ. “Okay, okay,” she muttered under her breath. Y/N answered the call, half an ear still listening to Meadows speak to Quinn. “Hey, I’m just leaving now.”
“Are you still at the BAU?” JJ demanded, voice low.
“Yeah, yeah, sorry. But I’m in the elevator,” Y/N answered.
“Listen, we’re pretty sure Quinn was converted,” JJ told her. Y/N’s heart dropped into her shoes. “I need you to make sure he doesn’t leave that building. We’re coming back now. Where’s Spence?”
Y/N took a breath to try to even out her voice before speaking again. “Mom, we already talked about this. I don’t know.”
JJ paused. “Is Quinn in the elevator with you?”
“Yep.” JJ spoke quietly to someone on the other end of the phone. Y/N watched as the elevator dinged to the floor of the parking garage. “I’m going to have to hang up, mom. I’m gonna lose you, but I’ll try to take care of it tonight, okay?”
“Y/N, we’re on our—” The call dropped as the elevator hit the basement level.
Y/N took a deep breath to steady her voice. “Ugh, lost her.” She glanced at Meadows and Quinn, forced a smile and shrugged. “Elevators, right?”
The elevator doors began to open and Y/N stepped out, surreptitiously reaching for her holster. She had just lifted the strap when she heard the crack of metal hitting bone. Her face hit the concrete before she realized it was her own skull that bore the impact. She watched as her gun skidded across the parking lot floor, the taste of iron flooding her mouth. “Fuck,” she muttered, wincing in pain and scrambling up off the ground as a gunshot went off.
She didn’t feel the impact of the bullet. She looked down at her body, expecting to see a blooming rose of blood. She stared dumbly for a second too long, before remembering that she needed to get to her gun. Her hand instinctively went to her nose as she stumbled forward, coming away wet with blood.
“Stop, Agent Y/L/N.”
She heard the sound of a gun cocking, and then another. She closed her eyes and ran through an internal stream of curses. Raising her hands up, she turned slowly around. An older white man stood to her left, his gun trained on her. Meadows walked slowly towards her, lowering her own weapon. Quinn leaned against the back of the elevator, clutching his abdomen and blood staining the front of his shirt.
“Surprise,” Meadows sang, a sick smile spreading across her face. She stopped in front of Y/N, sweeping her hand in the direction of the man. “Now, John’s going to make sure you don’t do anything stupid. Get in the car.”
Y/N glanced in the direction of the vehicle, a dark sedan, driver armed to the teeth as well. “The team knows something’s up. You won’t make it out of this garage alive.”
Meadows laughed, loud and unhinged. “Oh honey. They’re not looking for lil ol’ me. And they sure as hell won’t be looking for an ambulance.” Her smile returned. “Plus, I already erased 299 murders from the Bureau’s radar. What’s a couple more? Now, shut up... and get in the car.”
Y/N moved to the open car door, keeping her back as straight as possible and her chin up, refusing to show them any cowardice. The barrel of the gun jabbed her in the back as she lowered herself into the vehicle. The door slammed shut, and in a moment, the gun was back on her, the man sitting next to her in the backseat. Y/N waited for the car to pull out, still trying to make sense of it all. Meadows was a Believer? What did she mean by “erased” 299 murders? Why would she blow her cover to shoot Quinn? Did she think that he had figured her out? Or that Y/N had? If that was the case, why not just shoot her? Why wasn’t the car moving?
“Drop your gun, Agent Reid,” Meadows’ muffled voice penetrated the inside of the vehicle. Y/N’s heart began to race. John dug the gun further into her side.
“It’s been you the whole time,” Spencer deduced.
“Yes, it was. Quinn somehow figured it out first. Pity having to shoot him,” Meadows mocked. “But he can’t give me what I want. And you can.”
“What’s that?” Y/N’s brain scrambled to put the pieces together as she listened to the exchange. Spencer was at the heart of it after all. It was right there, she just couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
Meadows continued, “You and I are going to go upstairs and free my Messiah.”
“You’re in the heart of the FBI. As soon as the rest of my team figures out it’s you, you’ll be dead before you’re out the door.” Y/N hoped to god that he was right.
“Then we need to work quickly.”
“I’m not going to cooperate with you,” Spencer told her. “Might as well shoot me.” Y/N didn’t even have time to panic before the car shifted into drive.
“I have a better idea.” On Meadows’ cue, the driver squealed out of the parking space and into Spencer’s line of sight. His eyes fell on Y/N, hands nearly pressed against the window, John’s gun pointed at her head. “Now, what’s it gonna be? Because you can either join us, or she dies.”
Y/N tried to radiate her rage through her eyes and screamed, “Reid, just shoot her! Shoot her!” The last thing she saw before the second crack of steel against her skull was the hesitation in Spencer’s eyes.
⧭⧭⧭
Y/N’s eyes fluttered open and she groaned at the pounding of her head, the rhythm of her heartbeat throbbing in the space behind her ears. She tried to lift her hand to check for blood, only to strain against the hold of a zip tie attached to the base of the chair. Instead, she surveyed the room around her. A warehouse, lots of shipping containers, and even more men— this time armed with assault rifles and machine guns. One stood at the entrance point of the small area she was being kept in.
She worked through her memory, putting the pieces together. Meadows was a Believer, had been for quite some time to pull all of this off. Quinn wasn’t special, he just got in the way of her real target. Ben Merva might have been the messiah, but Spencer Reid was clearly just as important to whatever mission they were carrying out. Every twisting thread of information somehow traced back to him: Theo in his class, Quinn’s attachment to him, Meadows’ demand that he be the one to free Merva.
“Good, you’re awake.” Meadows strode through the space with a laptop in hand. “I need your handiwork.”
Y/N stared at her. “Is that so?’
Meadows set the laptop on the barrel in front of Y/N and then leaned down to cut the zip tie. “Besides being my collateral for the good doctor, you’re also going to help me access CIRG’s surveillance data.”
“Fuck you.” Y/N spat on Meadows’ shoes. “I’m doing nothing for you.” Her head rolled back, eyes piercing daggers into Meadows. “You should just kill me now, because this is a waste of your time. And I’m sure you know the A-Team isn’t going to waste theirs.”
Meadows narrowed her eyes and gave a theatrical sigh. “I should’ve known you’d make this difficult.” She nodded to John, standing at the entranceway.
Y/N spat again, this time to rid her mouth of the taste of blood. She steeled herself for the next onslaught, compartmentalizing every emotion outside of her fury. Her mind raced to salvage and scrutinize the memories from her time in CIRG, trying desperately to identify what Meadows could be looking for in the surveillance reports. The Believers hadn’t even been on the Bureau’s radar. The reason had to be linked to their interest in Spencer… a piece of information that involved both Spencer Reid and the existing surveillance data. A single grain that could bring the whole damn bushel down.
She heard a scuffle at the entrance of the room and raised her head. Her heart jumped into her throat at the sight of Spencer, bloodied and bruised. John dragged him into the room, throwing him down onto his knees in front of Y/N. His eyes tracked over her face and clouded over with an emotion she couldn’t quite place.
“Shit, Reid—”
“I’m fine—I’m sure it looks worse than it is,” he murmured. The concern in his eyes told Y/N she looked about as bad as she felt. “Are you all right?”
“I should’ve seen it. I should’ve known—”
“No,” Spencer interrupted. “This isn’t your fault. We all missed it.”
“What’s the end game here?” Y/N asked. “What’re they doing?”
“I’m going to be their last victim.” Spencer shook his head, barely able to keep himself upright. “I don’t know why, but I overheard them. There have been hundreds.”
Meadows stepped up behind Spencer, grinning at Y/N. “Have you changed your mind? I sure hope you have.” She raised her gun to his head. “Because if you don’t do what I want, I’ll blow his big, beautiful brains out.”
Spencer locked eyes with Y/N. She held his gaze for a moment, then tilted her head slightly as the gears started turning. The tie between Spencer and Benjamin was where it all unraveled. “No, I don’t think you will.”
Meadows’ grin faltered for less than a second, but it was long enough that Y/N knew she was right. “Is that right?” Meadows questioned.
“Yeah, it is.” She furrowed her brow, and Spencer looked at her. “You need him, don’t you? Alive.” Meadows’ tongue darted out to wet her lips, and Y/N was sure. “Because this isn’t just about Benjamin Merva. It’s about Benjamin Cyrus. It’s about Liberty Ranch.”
Meadows held her gaze for five seconds, then ten seconds. Y/N raised her chin, refusing to be the one to blink first. Meadows shifted the trajectory of her gun a foot to her right and fired off one shot. The breeze from the bullet shifted Y/N’s hair.
“You have two minutes to decide,” Meadows advised. The phone in her hand began ringing. “The next one won’t miss.” She answered the phone and stepped out.
Spencer spoke quickly. “Do whatever she’s asking. We have to get you out of here.”
“Reid, are your eyes broken?” Y/N snapped. “There’s a cult loyalist with a machine gun every five feet. You got a plan for that?”
“Listen to me.” His voice was calm, determined. “You’re right about them wanting me alive.”
The frustration bled through Y/N’s voice. “You should have just shot her.”
He shook his head. “I couldn’t do that.”
“You could’ve shot all three of them and ended this in the garage,” Y/N argued.
“And then I would have watched you die,” he said quietly. “That was never even an option.”
“I’m failing to see how that would have been any worse than this. Look at us.” She gestured wildly between them. She watched as the storm of emotion returned, a cyclone swirling in seas of gold and brown. “The team needs you. Spencer, I—” I need you. She reached a hand up, almost touching his face before dropping it back in her lap. He had found the chink in her carefully constructed armor; a fissure he’d fractured a little further with every smile, every look, every moment. All at once she knew she’d never be able to keep him out, no matter how much it might hurt.
“You’ve got one minute,” Meadows barked, hovering over them.
“Y/L/N, listen to me… Please...” Spencer’s voice was thick with tears. “Tell my mom—” The phone rang again, and Meadows stepped away to answer it. Spencer dropped to a whisper. His eyes flashed with urgency. “They’re taking me and Theo. We’ll distract them. The car we were in is right outside the door. We’re 18 minutes from Quantico. Turn left outside the parking lot, take a right at the light, you’ll recognize the rest. They stay off the highways.”
Y/N’s voice was frantic when she asked, “What about you?”
His eyes pleaded with her to respect what he was asking her to do. “I’ll delay them. Get the rest of the team back here. And do not worry about me.” John hauled up him off the floor.
“Time’s up.” Meadows, in a rare display of mercy, allowed them a hug.
Spencer leaned into her and Y/N wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She squeezed as hard as she could and whispered his name. She felt him take a deep breath into her hair, holding it for one impossibly long moment. Just before she released her hold on him, he mumbled, “It’s all happening. 10:23.” John dragged him back out the way they’d came.
“I gave you what you wanted.” Meadows ordered, “Get to it. Now.”
⧭⧭⧭
Y/N worked and waited, then watched and worried. Spencer spoke to Meadows. He was stalling her, offering a deal, boosting her ego, granting Y/N the opportunity to mentally prepare. But no matter how much time he gave her, she would never be prepared to leave him in that warehouse. He met her eyes across the movements of the operation and gave her an imperceptible nod before lunging forward to reach for John’s gun.
Chaos exploded throughout the warehouse. Theo ran in one direction, accosted by half a dozen Believers. Spencer and John tussled over the gun, one fighting for control and the other fighting the inevitable. Y/N sprinted, largely unnoticed, toward the huge sliding doors left slightly ajar. Bursting out into the night air, she immediately spotted one of the black sedans, unbelievably unlocked and with the keys in the ignition. She slammed the door behind her, turned the key, hesitated with her eyes on the door and her mind on Spencer for one moment too long. A single gunshot sounded from inside the warehouse.
Meadows raced out of the doorway, gun drawn. “Stop!” She pointed her gun at Y/N and there was nothing to do but step on the gas. Y/N had her eyes wide open as Meadows bounced off the windshield and onto the asphalt. She didn’t look back.
She drove. Left out of the parking lot. Just a dark, rural road—nothing particularly special or descript. She drove. Right at the stoplight. Then it was, just as Spencer said, familiar terrain. She wondered how it was possible to have seemed so far away— a world away— when it was right under their proverbial nose. She drove.
Her brain navigated of its own volition. Her mind couldn’t have been farther from the inside of the vehicle. She didn’t realize she’d arrived at the Bureau until she was attempting to pull into her usual parking spot, only to be met with her own abandoned car.
She turned the car off, left the keys in the ignition, and nearly floated out into the garage; up the elevator; across the cold floors of the lobby. Her body had walked this same path so many times before; it carried her without hesitation. She could hear the voices of the team, drifting through the open glass doors.
“She accepted their help knowing she would betray the government,” Tara deduced.
“Not every survivor wanted help,” JJ clarified.
Rossi continued, “We ran those who left the ranch and kept their names. A few relocated in rural Maryland and Virginia.”
“They could be helping now,” Luke suggested. “Any of them have large pieces of property?”
“A few,” Emily confirmed. Y/N turned the corner as she continued, “The Washington field office has started searches in Maryland. We’ll take the lead in Virginia.”
As she moved into the doorway, JJ’s eyes went wide and she rushed to Y/N’s side. “Oh my god, are you hurt?” She gently grabbed Y/N by the shoulders.
“It’s a warehouse in Hillcrest,” Y/N said flatly, eyes unfocused. “I can take you there, but we have to hurry. They hurt Reid; he looked— bad. He told me to r-run and take the car, but he’s still there.” Everyone headed for the doors except JJ and Garcia. “They won’t be there long, they have lots of trucks.” Y/N’s eyes locked on JJ, and for the first time since the whole ordeal started, she allowed herself to splinter, just a little. “I heard a gunshot. JJ, I heard a gunshot. I tried—”
“Shh, it’s okay,” JJ nodded, drawing her into a hug. “I know. I know you tr—”
“I left him there.” Her voice broke, but she couldn’t cry. Not yet. “I couldn’t get him. There was no way to save hi—”
“Stop,” JJ ordered, pulling out of the hug. “Y/N, look at me. You got out, you got back to us. If you hadn’t, we wouldn’t even know about the warehouse.”
“What if— what if I got him killed?” Y/N asked.
“You didn’t get anyone killed. Spence knew what he was doing.” JJ’s voice softened. “That’s what he does. He always figures things out before the rest of us. He has a plan and getting you back to Quantico was part of it.” She raised her eyebrows, making sure Y/N was listening. “And now we have to help him by putting the rest of it together.”
Y/N ran a hand over her face. “You’re right. Of course, you’re right.”
Garcia stepped forward and laid a hand on her arm. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Then we’ll get Reid back.”
They cleaned the blood from her face and hair as best they could in the bathroom sink. JJ patched up the lacerations with steri-strips. Back in the conference room, Garcia insisted she should get screened for a concussion as Y/N rubbed the knot on the back of her head. “There’s no time. Reid said, ‘It’s all happening. 10:23.’”
“But it’s past that,” JJ considered.
“So what did he mean?” Garcia asked.
“Could be a clue here.” Rossi's voice came over the speakerphone from inside the warehouse. “They got sloppy since they left in a hurry.”
“Okay, well you can’t be that far behind them,” JJ insisted.
“I know,” Emily agreed. “But there’s easy access to three major highways, and we don’t know which way they went.”
“Right, but they’re in tractor trailers. That means we can track them through weigh stations.”
“Garcia?” Emily prompted.
“In order to do that, I’d need the transponder identification numbers,” Garcia answered.
“Which we have no way of knowing,” Rossi sighed. “Everything they used was almost definitely forged.”
“We’re going to do another sweep here, and then we’ll head back,” Emily said. “Try to map out the most likely routes they’d use to get out of dodge.”
JJ hung up and looked to Y/N. “What do you remember about the warehouse?”
Y/N pressed her fingers into her temples. “It was full of supplies. They were disguising them, but they had stockpiles of weapons and ammunition; non-perishables and other food items; water. Enough to be off the grid for at least a year.” Y/N leaned back in her chair. “But it wasn’t just about The Believers. I mean, we know they’re a reincarnation of the Separatarian Sect.” She looked at JJ and Garcia. “It was more than that, though. Reid was at the center of everything; he was the target all along. Merva is the messiah, but it somehow all comes back to Spence.”
“Makes sense. They blame him for the downfall of the Sect,” JJ supplied.
“Yeah.” Y/N cracked her knuckles. “But—and I can’t—I can’t really explain it, but Meadows really wanted to kill Reid right then. She was— she was irritated, more than anything else.”
“So what stopped her?” Garcia asked.
“That’s what I can’t figure out. She threatened me with it, with ‘blowing his brains out,’ but I— called her bluff. And she was pissed.” Y/N rapped her knuckles on the table. “I mean, really, really furious. Which tells me that, even though she wanted to, she couldn’t kill him.” She looked between the two of them. “Merva was pulling the strings, and he wouldn’t let her do it there.”
“So it matters where the final sacrifice takes place,” JJ concluded. “We’ve got to figure out where they’re going.”
⧭⧭⧭
They’d been rehashing the details over and over. Liberty Ranch, The Strangler investigation, The Believers, Meadows, Merva, Cyrus, 300 victims, the hyoid bones, all of it. About the only thing they knew for sure was how far the cult could get in the trucks. Spencer could have told them the exact square mileage, but the potential geographical range of the trucks was dauntingly large. Y/N tried not to panic as she stared at the map.
“If this is about a Believer's rebirth, babies are born with 300 bones,” JJ said. “And they’re taking the hyoids.”
“And the hyoids we had in evidence are missing, which means Merva needed them back,” Tara reasoned. “And that means they mean more to the end game than we thought.”
Y/N felt her patience waning. “But why did Reid need us to know it all happens at 10:23?” Y/N hated that her voice sounded snappy and desperate. “That’s got to be important. It’s the last thing he said to me.”
Matt put his hand on her shoulder. “Listen, you’re right. It means something to him. We’re trying to figure it out.”
“Yeah, well, we better figure it out soon.” Y/N shrugged off his hand, pushed back from her seat at the conference room table, and turned for the door. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Every minute they spent floating ideas was another mile between them and Spencer. Another moment closer to losing him. She shoved the bathroom door open, hurrying into the stall and emptying the contents of her stomach.
She slumped back against the side of the stall, head gently knocking into the cool metal. She needed to pull herself together. The team was always strongest when they did their group think sessions, building upon each other’s knowledge and perspectives and filling in the gaps. If they’d done more of that earlier— if she’d had the confidence to call it out as soon as she saw the holes, Spencer might not be locked in the back of a truck, hundreds of miles away.
Y/N hoisted herself off the ground and out of the stall. She braced her hands on the counter top and tried to breathe evenly. She turned on the water and splashed her face, tapping against her cheeks. With water dripping down the planes of her face, she stared herself down in the mirror, willing her tired brain to make that last connection, to find that missing thread. It was all about the Benjamins, and she had a feeling that Cyrus was the key.
Y/N rolled her shoulders back and made her way to the conference room. She listened to their rotating conversation, knowing that this team was the only group of people capable of getting Spencer back alive.
“We have confirmation that there’s been no activity in or around the old ranch,” Matt informed them, pocketing his phone.
“If this is about rebirth, they’ll choose a new place,” Luke posited, arms crossed.
Tara leaned over the table. “Given their adoration of Cyrus and his love for the country, he’d want them to stay within our borders.”
“But Benjamin Cyrus wasn’t his real name, and he wasn’t born into the Sect,” Y/N reminded them quietly. Everyone turned to look at her. She gave an apology grimace to Matt. He just shrugged and smiled, motioning her over to the table.
Garcia nodded. “Right, let’s see. Uh, he and his mom arrived there when he was a teenager. He was kicked out for molesting girls. And then he served time in prison in Kentucky.”
“And that’s where he found religion,” Y/N recalled, thinking back to the report she’d studied dozens of times. “So he was reborn as Benjamin Cyrus in Kentucky.” She closed her eyes and flipped through her mental file cabinet, looking for 10:23.
“That’s within the area,” Garcia confirmed. “Maybe that’s where they’re headed?”
“Find out what city he was born in or where he was in prison,” Luke said. “We’ll spread out from there.”
“He found religion,” Y/N repeated, mostly to herself. “Chapter ten, verse twenty-three. 10:23 isn’t a time.” Y/N shook her head and then dragged her hand through her hair. “It’s scripture.”
“Let’s get in the air; we can narrow down which verse and city before we land,” Emily instructed.
⧭⧭⧭
“We’re approaching Kentucky; the pilot needs to know where to touch down,” Rossi informed them.
The team was scattered throughout the jet, scrolling through scripture on their tablets, reading out verses. Y/N held her chin in her hand, eyes unfocused, dragging a net along the furthest corners of her mind.
“Hey guys, listen to this,” JJ said. “Matthew chapter ten, verse twenty-three: ‘When you are persecuted in one place, flee to another.’”
“They’re going to the next town,” Emily said.
“Flee to the next town. But which one?” asked Garcia.
“Their end game is also a new beginning,” Rossi explained. “Cyrus brought religion back to the cult. They’d honor that by wanting to start fresh.”
Y/N raised her head. “Like the Garden of Eden.”
“That’s how 300 fits,” Tara concluded. “That was the number of angels that protected the Garden of Eden. Are there any Edens in Kentucky?”
The sound of Garcia tapping across the keyboard came through the laptop. “Um, no, but there are two synonyms: Canaan and Arcadia.”
“Cyrus is the original messiah. Which one is closer to where he was born?” Y/N asked.
“Arcadia,” Garcia informed them.
Y/N stood up. “That’s where they’re going.”
“Garcia, pull land deeds. I’ll notify SWAT,” Emily instructed.
JJ grabbed Y/N’s hand. “We’re going to get him.”
Y/N met her eyes. “I just hope we’re not too late.”
⧭⧭⧭
The new compound proved easy to find. In the middle of nowhere but illuminated by hundreds of lights, there were rows and rows of tents. The team began strategizing, looking for the best route to Spencer.
Emily tried to convince Y/N, now showing clear concussion symptoms, to stay with the SUVs.
“With all due respect, there is no way in hell that I’m going to sit in this car while Reid gets sacrificed by a homicidal cult leader,” Y/N said. There was a hushed pause, the team exchanging knowing glances.
“Fair enough,” Emily conceded. “Matt and JJ, I want you on the left side. Luke and Tara, the right. Dave and Y/N, you’re with me. We’re clearing every tent; eliminate any threat that would give away your position.” She unholstered her gun and swept her eyes across the team. “Our objective is to extract Reid with minimal loss.”
As they approached the first line of tents, Y/N could faintly hear Spencer speaking. “To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven.” Her heart hammered against her ribcage. “A time to be born and a time to die.” She could feel the blood rushing through her ears. “A time to weep and a time to pluck up that which has been planted.”
“Okay, he’s stalling,” Meadows snapped. “That’s enough!”
“All right. Let the sacrifice begin.” That was Merva now, riling up the followers. “Protect us from all harm.”
As Merva led The Believers in a monotone chant, Y/N tried to block it out. She scanned a tent, watched as SWAT took out a bodyguard, looked for Spencer. Rinse and repeat, again and again. It was taking too long.
“And we thank Our Guardian, who will protect this family now and always,” Merva’s voice rang out. “Spencer: keeper of provisions!” Y/N saw the gathering of followers, but she couldn’t see Spencer.
The SWAT commander stopped them. They had reached the final line of tents. He signaled to the leaders on each side. They were ready to strike.
Y/N’s eyes scanned the crowd. She could just barely make out some sort of hanging mobile, white u-shaped decorations suspended from string. The hyoids, she realized, a wave of nausea hitting her like a truck.
Merva continued, “You have given selflessly to others and will be rewarded by the highest honor we could bestow. Your blood will be our blood. Your life will fuel ours.”
A gunshot rang out. The followers gasped. There was a split second of calm before the bedlam. Y/N took a single breath. Then she heard Matt yell; saw John lift his rifle and be felled by a solo shot to the head; watched Luke take down another bodyguard directly after.
And then she saw him. Strapped down under a canopy of bones, Spencer was silent and unmoving. He didn’t struggle. He didn’t call out. And there was Merva, knife in hand— still trying to complete his mission.
She didn’t vacillate, barely breathed, just let her legs carry her forward. She heard Emily call out his name. When Merva turned, the curved blade of the knife poised at the column of Spencer's throat, Y/N’s trigger finger compressed. She felt the gun recoil, felt the force of the shot travel up her arm as she put a single bullet in his chest. As he fell, she didn’t stop, just stepped over him, knew one of the others would take care of it.
She tripped over the small platform Spencer was restrained on, stumbling and holstering her gun. Her hands moved over the straps, loosening the one over his waist, then the ones at his hands, finally pushing the leather from his head. He panted and muttered his thanks, but she didn’t dare speak, afraid that if she did, she’d never be able to stop. Instead, she flung her arms over his shoulders, pulling him down and close and over her heart. She wondered if he could feel the way it pummeled against her chest, because to her it felt like it might smash through at any moment. His arms came around her, chin resting on her shoulder, nose in her hair. She heard him inhale and hold his breath, a mirror of that last moment together in the warehouse. She held onto him as an overboard sailor holds a life ring: single-minded, unrelenting, desperate.
There was a touch on her opposite shoulder and Y/N swung around, adrenaline still racing through her veins. JJ put her hand out in a placating motion, and Y/N came back to herself, allowing JJ to step forward and help Spencer off the platform. Y/N let out a breath and reached a hand out to steady herself, only to flinch when it brushed one of the straps that had held Spencer down. Luke caught her on one side, Tara on the other. She grasped at them, her emotions teetering right along with her physical form. Luke pulled her out from under the macabre canopy and into a hug. Tara held her hand. For the first time since the parking garage, she let herself go.
⧭⧭⧭
The jet was quiet. The team was spread out around the cabin, each of them lost in their own heads. There was a tranquility over the space, one that only ever happened when unmitigated relief overwhelmed even the joy or fulfillment of a life saved.
Y/N sat in one of the single seats, across the aisle from where Spencer was settled. Tara and Luke had finally convinced her to get checked out by the EMTs, who had confirmed her concussion. She convinced herself that the fuzziness on the corners of her vision was just a symptom of that, not a product of the tears she was struggling to hold back.
The team each stopped by Spencer’s seat, patting his shoulder, squeezing his hand, or in Rossi’s case, gently ruffling his hair. They all spoke briefly in hushed, grateful tones. All except Y/N. She couldn’t formulate a sentence that seemed adequate. There was simultaneously too much and nothing to say. Everything felt contrived or insufficient or intemperate.
Spencer was safe. They hadn’t been too late. He was bruised and undoubtedly sore, but ultimately, he’d been through worse. So why was her heart still aching? Why couldn’t she catch her breath? She hadn’t spoken more than a few words since leaving the raid, so why did her throat feel like it was on fire? She closed her eyes, leaned her head back. She incessantly pressed her hands together, trying to crack her sore knuckles over and over again.
A pair of hands gently closed over her own, stopping the abuse, and she didn’t have to open her eyes to know who they belonged to. His thumbs stroked over the backs of her hands and she cursed the tears that spilled over her bottom lashes. He didn’t say anything, didn’t force her to look at him or acknowledge her shattering. He waited her out, rubbing a rhythm on her skin and steadying her without a word. She opened her eyes but couldn’t bring herself to look at him just yet. Instead she focused on their joined hands, reciprocating the gentle pulses he gave every so often.
She turned her head to wipe her wet cheeks on her shoulder as the landing announcement came over the cabin speaker. She did look at him then, and the emotion in his gaze left her feeling raw and exposed. Their hands reluctantly separated to buckle their seat belts. Y/N closed her eyes again, turning her face into the warmth of the early morning sun as the jet began its descent.
When they landed, everyone wearily shuffled off the plane, eager to get home to their beds. Penelope met them at the elevator, enveloping Spencer in a long hug, the rest of the team smiling at their embrace. They each moved through the bullpen, gathering their things and talking quietly. Y/N’s eyes paused on her bag, brought up from the parking garage by one of the team after she’d gone missing. They lingered for a long moment on the case file, still sitting where she’d left it hours ago, before she let herself let it go. She grabbed her bag and turned to see Spencer standing in the aisle, hands in his pockets and eyes fixed on her.
“Hey,” she said dumbly.
He smiled. “Hi.”
Her hands wrung the straps of her bag. “How—how’re you holding up?”
“I’ve been worse.” He shrugged. “How’s your head?”
“I’ve been worse,” she agreed.
“That’s good. Because I think after all that, the least you could do is give me a ride home,” he joked.
Y/N knew he was trying to reassure her that he was fine, but she couldn’t bring herself to laugh. If anything, his attempts to provide comfort made her feel worse. Because she couldn’t forget the sound of the gunshot at the warehouse, the sight of the knife at his throat, the feeling of nearly losing someone whom she knew she could love if she just had more time. Too exhausted to hide her emotions, she could tell by the change in Spencer’s eyes that the pain was apparent on her face.
“Actually, you probably shouldn’t be driving, even if it’s just a mild concussion. Where are your keys?”
“It’s fine. I’m all ri—” Y/N started.
“I know I phrased that as a question, but I’m not really asking.” He held out his hand.
Normally she would have argued, but she just didn’t have the energy. Y/N dug into her bag, fishing out the keys and dropping them into his hand. He closed his fingers around them and jerked his head toward the door. “Come on,” he murmured. He waved to the rest of the team, and Y/N nodded, avoiding their eyes.
The ride in the elevator was silent. The walk to the car, too. They were pulling out of the garage before Spencer finally broke the silence.
“You know this wasn’t your fault, right?” he asked. Y/N stayed quiet. “We all missed the connection to Liberty Ranch.”
“But I knew something was off, and I didn’t say anything. I— I almost came to find you before I left, and if I had just done that—”
“Y/N,” Spencer interrupted. “The plan was already in motion. Meadows and Merva would have just figured out another way to execute it.” His fingers tightened on the wheel. “And without you and the leads from the warehouse, the team might not have figured it out in time.”
Y/N opened her mouth before realizing she didn’t have a response. She didn’t even want to consider that possibility. She leaned her head against the window, pressing the thumb and fingers of one hand into her eyes to stave off the throbbing.
Graciously, Spencer let her remain in silence the rest of the ride to her apartment. There was so much to say, especially now; she didn’t know where to begin. And even after everything, she couldn’t stop herself from bringing up that wall— protecting herself from what she knew could hurt her more than any unsub.
They pulled onto her street, fairly empty at such an early hour. Spencer parked in front of her apartment, opening the car door and coming around the other side of the car. She expected him to give her the keys, but as she exited the car, he waited by the gate for her. “I’ll walk you up.”
Spencer opened the gate, allowing her to walk through before closing it behind them and following her up the sidewalk. “I need the keys,” she told him.
He shook his head as if to clear it. “Right, right.” He placed them into her outstretched hand, and she wondered if she imagined his fingers lingering over hers.
When they reached her door, she unlocked the deadbolt and swung the door open, stepping over the threshold. He waited outside, hands in his pockets. Y/N rolled her keys in her hand, and Spencer watched them.
“Um— thank you for—” Y/N started.
“I told Emily on the jet, and I’ll tell you now.” Spencer raised his eyes to meet hers. There was that look again, the one she couldn’t quite identify. “I’ve always had a hard time saying what I feel. And maybe sometimes it’s because I’m afraid of being disappointed. But sometimes it’s because the words I’m looking for don’t exist in the English language.”
“Spence—”
“Please just let me get this out,” he said. “There have been a couple moments over the past few months where I thought maybe we were sharing mamihlapinatapei.”
“Mamih what?” Y/N asked.
“Mamihlapinatapei.” He repeated, gesturing with his hands. “It’s a Yagan word that originates on the Tierra del Fuego archipelago off the southern tip of Argentina. It translates succinctly as ‘the wordless, meaningful look shared by two people who both desire to initiate something, but are both reluctant to do so.’”
“Oh.” Y/N felt a flush rising up in her cheeks.
Suddenly, Spencer couldn’t meet her eyes. “I, um—I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t want to do anything that would jeopardize our friendship or make things awkward at work. But last night, I… I just— I’ve had too many moments in my life where I thought it might be my last, and I hadn’t said all the things I needed to say.” He met her eyes again, and there was that familiar storm. “Last night I was out of time, and I hadn’t told you how I feel, and I realized that I wouldn’t get another chance, and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same, but I needed to—”
Y/N stepped forward, grabbed the front of his shirt, and crashed their mouths together. She tried to pour everything into the kiss: every blush, every worry, every laugh, every panicked moment, every mamihlapinatapei. Spencer cradled her face in his hands, opening his mouth and capturing her bottom lip, accepting everything she gave him. She wound one of her hands into his hair, pulling him impossibly closer and grounding herself to this new reality that almost wasn’t. The height of the kiss tapered off, and Y/N drew back, untangling her fingers from his hair and her heart from his grasp. Spencer watched her carefully, honey eyes uncertain.
“I do. Feel the same,” Y/N confirmed. Spencer’s lips twitched. “I’m not good at vulnerability. I’ve got a great track record of getting hurt.” Spencer grabbed her hand and opened his mouth, but Y/N continued, “But then I thought we might lose you, that time was out, and that I— I wouldn’t get the chance to see if you could be— if this could be more.” She gestured between them and then met his eyes again. “And I guess being vulnerable isn’t so bad in comparison. Because I think I could fall in love with you. I think maybe it’s already happening.” She held her breath and pressed her lips together, fighting the regret of saying too much.
“Actually, there’s a word for that, too.” Spencer smiled, warm and soft and genuine. “Forelsket. The origin is Norwegian, and it roughly translates to ‘the euphoria experienced as you begin to fall in love.’”
“Forelsket?” Y/N asked.
“Well, it’s more like forelsket,” Spencer corrected.
“Wow, okay, 187.” Y/N laughed for the first time in what felt like days. “Forelsket.”
“Better,” Spencer praised. “There’s also the Tagalog version, kilig.”
Y/N took a step closer to him and smoothed his shirt where her hands had wrinkled it. “Translation?”
“‘The sudden feeling of an inexplicable joy one gets when something romantic happens,’ or alternatively ‘the feeling of butterflies in your stomach.’” Spencer moved his hand to her waist and stepped over the threshold.
Y/N cupped his cheek in her hand, soothing the bruises and guiding him back to her. “Yeah. Sounds about right.”
#spencer reid#spencer x reader#spencer x y/n#spencer x you#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fanfic#dr spencer reid#spencer reid angst#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds self insert#criminal minds#homoose writes
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