The Tension??! I Actually Have To Catch My Breath Right Now-

the tension??! I actually have to catch my breath right now-

Yours with a Kiss

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem reader

Word count: 5,800

Summary: Things with Matt are still pretty new, but that doesn't stop the rush you feel everytime he's near, and he absolutely takes advantage.

Trigger warning: just more Matt Murdock fluff, guys.

Written for this request

Masterlist

This thing with him is still…new.

Like, extremely new. 

Barely-acknowledged-feelings-but-maybe-this-could-be-something new.

There have been a few instances of hand holding, a few soft kisses pressed to your mouth, a few strokes of calloused fingers down your cheek. Matt knows you’re a little nervous, a little shy. Given the fact that there’s a tiny bit of an age gap and that he’s technically your boss, Matt is almost as hesitant as you are to push things full steam ahead, even though feelings have been admitted and found reciprocal.

But you notice the way he almost seems to track your movement when you’re near. You notice the way his head tilts in your direction even if you’re not the one who is speaking. You notice the way his body is usually angled towards yours if you’re in the room, as if he’s putting himself completely on display for you to do with what you wish.

Matt Murdock is the most intense man you’ve ever met, despite his easy and charming smile, and the way he always seems so in tune with you is intimidating, nerve-wracking, and thrilling.

He is exceedingly careful with you, as if you’re the most precious thing to him, as if he’s nervous he’ll scare you off. You appreciate the tenderness in which he treats you, a nice change from the other men you’ve dated who always ask for more than you’re willing to give, and quicker than you’re willing to give it. Matt makes you feel like he’s got all the time in the world to get to know you, like he’s got all the time in the world to ease into this thing with you, and the slow burn is more intimate than anything else you’ve ever felt before. 

He is willing to take his time, to make sure things are done right, and it means more than you’ll ever know how to articulate. This man has managed work his way under your skin, sliding in so effortlessly as if he’s always been there.

It's only been a few months since Nelson, Murdock & Page brought you on as a junior investigator, and you report mostly up to Karen. She is ruthless in her search for the truth, and she runs you all over Hell's Kitchen, eager to bring you into the journey of whatever story she's chasing next.

It's Karen that has you at the office early Monday morning, a hundred things ready for you to do to start off the week. A job like yours doesn't typically rest during the weekend, new parts of the story popping up at anytime, regardless of day or time, but she does her best to give you some sort of a work-life balance.

The door is unlocked when you arrive, so you step inside, closing it quietly behind you, unwilling to disturb the silence. You walk over to your desk and set your things down, about to turn around and walk towards the small break room when your phone beeps, signifying that you’ve received an email.

You take your phone out of your purse, reading through the email that Karen has just forwarded your way. She’s asked you to meet her at The Bulletin in an hour or so, hoping that the two of you can hunt down a few things with Ellison’s help. You had been expecting a full day at the office, but it’s not a big deal, and this case Karen has been following might just be a large one, depending on what you dig up. 

“Good morning.”

The voice startles you, despite knowing the fact that someone was bound to be in the office with you seeing as how the door was unlocked. You glance up from where you had been typing out a response to Karen’s email, unsurprised to see that it's Matt standing there, two cups of coffee in his hands.

“Hey,” you respond with a shy smile, setting your phone down on the desk once you hit send. He’s got his typical work suit on, though he’s not wearing the suit jacket, and the sleeves are already pushed up to his elbows. The man looks so effortlessly attractive, it’s ridiculous. 

“Coffee?” He takes a few steps forward, extending his arm out for you, your fingers brushing lightly against his. “I heard someone come in, so I figured I’d pour another cup.”

“Thank you,” you say before you take a small sip, the liquid burning your tongue slightly as you swallow. The coffee is sweeter than you had been expecting it, and you tilt your head curiously. You’re the only one in the office who doesn’t take it black. “How did you know to put cream in it? How did you know it was me who came in?”

Matt takes a sip of his own coffee, smiling as he lowers the mug back down. “Wishful thinking,” he says, and your heart briefly stutters. His smile widens, as if he knows the effect he has on you, and the look on his face doesn’t make things easier on you this morning. “That, and I heard your phone go off. You’re the only one I know who actually has a message tone rather than leaving it on vibrate. Myself excluded, of course.”

You let out a quiet laugh, leaning against your desk. You glance at the fading bruise on his jawline curiously as your eyes flitt over his face. “Old habit, I guess. I tend to get super wrapped up in things and get lost inside my head. The vibration doesn’t always get through to me, so the sound helps.”

“So I’ve noticed,” he says, stepping closer still, so that he’s only within a few feet now. He drums his fingers lightly on his mug, and your eyes drift down to the hand that had so easily held yours last week when he walked you home from work. “I can’t count how many times I’ve had to call your name more than three times to get you to look up.”

Your cheeks flush briefly at the teasing. “Well, consider yourself lucky that your employee is so invested in their work that they are almost immune to distractions.”

“Almost immune?” He asks with a smirk. “What sorts of things manage to get through the fog?”

Your ass. 

“That’s none of your business, Mr. Murdock,” you tell him, raising your chin in an act of fake defiance, thought you're completely unwilling to share that specific detail with him. The look is lost on him, you know, but it doesn't stop your body from following through with the motion. “It’s classified.”

His smile is absolutely wicked, and it sends a brief flash of hunger down through your skin, but you push it brutally away. “I’m sure I’ll get it out of you at some point.”

"You're welcome to try."

"I think you'll find I'm rather gifted at pulling all sorts of information out of people," he says matter of factly, expression still teasing, though it has some sort of sharp and self-deprecating edge to it. It's almost feels as if he's laughing at some sort of joke only he's privy to at the moment. "Consider yourself warned."

You’re not quite sure how to reply, mouth opening and closing awkwardly with nothing witty or charming to say, so when your phone beeps with a text message, you clear your throat and readily welcome the distraction.

It seems to knock Matt back into more of a professional mode, because his flirtatious smile mellows back into something softer. “Karen blowing up your phone again?”

You let out a sigh, one that is honestly more amused than anything. Karen was certainly up and at 'em this morning, which is absolutely unsurprising. Her sheer tenacity often demands a lot from you mentally, but you can't think of any other woman you'd rather be working for in this business. “Yeah,” you answer, typing out another quick reply. “I had five emails from her by 5am this morning. Does she ever sleep, do you know?”

Matt snorts into his coffee. “I think our entire office gets a total amount of ten hours of sleep a night collectively.”

The firm works long hours, full of early mornings that gradually fade into late evenings, and while your own work leads you on a chase over the island of Manhattan, you've never felt more at home than in this specific office suite in Hell's Kitchen. 

You tilt your head in thought. “Foggy strikes me as the type of person who has a semi-normal sleep schedule.”

Matt shakes his head, the expression on his face amused and unsympathetic for his friend. “Not with an infant at home.”

You throw your head back in an abrupt laugh, quickly retracting your statement and readily agreeing with him. “True enough. I think she’s teething, too. Can’t imagine that’s fun at the moment.”

“Hence the upgrade in the coffee machine.”

“Do I want to know what kind of machine you were using before you switched over?” You ask, narrowing your eyes at him. Your eyes flicker over to the doorway to the break room before landing back on the mug that’s in your hands. You take another large sip and place it down on your desk.

“Probably not.”

“Well then my caffeine addiction salutes you,” you say, absentmindedly picking up the folder of documents Karen had requested you bring to your meeting with Ellison. You'd left it on your desk Friday afternoon. “I’m going to need all the coffee available the next few days.”

“Busy week ahead?” He asks casually, leaning into the wall behind him, one hand in his pocket, the other still holding on to his coffee cup. You force yourself to look away from the way his obviously well-toned body stretches in front of you, the long line of his form both sleek and somehow dangerous, which you find to be a devastating combination. Matt’s eyebrows raise slightly, as if he knows somehow where your thoughts have gone, so you snap your eyes towards the folder in your hand.

"Yeah, Karen has something she’s hunted down and needs my help on. She mentioned needing to get a few quotes from an outside source later this week, in addition to meeting up with Jessica for the information she’s gathered," you say, picking up another file and briefly glancing through a few papers. The images in the file, paired with the notes written in Karen’s flawless handwriting, are curious to you, and you tilt a specific page to the side to get a better look.

“I don’t envy you having to work with Jessica for the next few days,” Matt tells you with a laugh, and despite your focus being elsewhere, you hear the way his voice has changed lightly into something that sounds oddly fond of the woman who has been mentioned. The tone is interesting to you, having witnessed more than one of their spats.

“Nah,” you say with a shrug, still mildly distracted by the file in your hands. “As long as you promise a steady supply of liquor, she isn’t too bad. She managed to pull a few things up for us, which might cut down our work by a decent amount, and Karen said she–FUCK!” 

A thin slice of red trickles down your finger, accompanied by a sharp and sudden sting. 

Matt looks immediately alarmed, body pushing off of the wall he had been leaning against and stepping the rest of the way towards you. "What happened?"

"Paper cut," you hiss out, throwing the files onto your desk as you examine your pointer finger, careful not to get blood on them. "Nothing major, but these fuckers always hurt like hell, don't they?"

He seems to relax, though his face still shows more concern than warranted for the situation. He puts his coffee cup on your desk, hand immediately reaching out for yours. "Cold water should help, it might reduce the sting."

"I think it's fine," you reply in disagreement, reaching for a tissue to wipe off the blood. It's stopped sooner than it started, but it still leaves a dull ache behind. 

Damn it. That fucker will be a nuisance all day.

He's not deterred, and the reaction to your tiny amount of pain is almost amusing in how sweet it is. His palm remains outstretched and facing upwards, waiting on you to place your hand in his, and you easily give in as you take in the expectant look on his face. He's not backing down on this one, you're aware. 

He grabs your hand by the wrist and pulls you gently behind him into the small break room that really only houses an old fridge, a sink, and the coffee station. He’s not using his cane, which is unsurprising, given the way he has the office’s floorplan mapped out expertly by now, so you allow him to lead for once.

You humor him as he turns on the faucet and checks the temperature before he slides your hand under the water. “This isn’t necessary,” you say with a laugh. “It’s just a tiny cut.”

"Nothing wrong with rinsing it with soap and water," he says, sending you a quick grin, dimple flashing in his cheek. You're an absolute sucker for that smile. "Can never be too careful."

You can't tell if his being serious, or if he's just messing with you. You glance down at the finger that's currently under the water with amusement, internally laughing when you notice he's already put soap on the finger. "I could have cleaned it myself."

There's an entirely too innocent shrug of his shoulders. “Maybe I just wanted an excuse to hold your hand.”

“Maybe you don’t need an excuse to hold my hand,” you counter, and though you say it in amusement, you can’t help the way your own words cause your face to flush. 

The look on his face looks oddly satisfied. “Is that so?”

“It’s definitely so.”

“Good to know,” is all he says as he shuts off the water. He hands you a paper towel to dry off your finger and you watch as he opens the cabinet to his left, reaching in and grabbing the box of bandaids. He runs a light finger over it, no doubt confirming he’s pulled out the right box by reading the label that’s been printed in braille for him, before he opens it and takes out a bandaid.

“This is some A+ doctor treatment you’re giving me for such a tiny cut,” you say, taking the bandaid from him and unwrapping it. He takes the trash from you and puts it in the bin by the door. “Do all of your other coworkers get the same treatment?”

“Foggy and Karen can take care of themselves,” he tells you, walking the few feet back over to you. 

You let out a mock gasp, eyes widening in fake indignation. “Are you implying I can’t take care of myself?”

He laughs, shaking his head, red glasses glinting in the bright lights overhead. “I’m implying that maybe I like the idea of being the one to take care of you.”

The phrase, so innocently and matter-of-factly said, causes you to falter briefly as you finish wrapping the bandage around your finger. “Well,” you begin slowly, eyeing the way he is standing closer than he had been just a minute prior, “part of me wants to object again and tell you I am more than capable of taking care of myself. But the other part of me is okay with you having that…specific feeling towards me.”

A shit-eating grin settles across his face at the comment. “So you’re telling me that you’re okay with me holding your hand whenever I want to, and you’re okay with me wanting to make sure you’re safe and happy?"

You roll your eyes fondly. “That’s exactly what I’m saying, yes.”

“Careful, sweetheart,” he says, running his hand down your arm. His fingers leave goosebumps in their wake. “I’m bound to get some ideas with you telling me these things.”

“Well if those ideas have anything to do with taking me to dinner sometime, then I’d say go for it.”

Matt’s mouth parts in another laugh, throwing his head lightly back, and you find yourself grinning widely along with him. “That can certainly be arranged. Any specific requests?”

“Requests? In terms of…?”

“Anything. Anything you want.”

You hmmm quietly, tapping your finger against your chin as if in deep thought. You take a step back from him, running your eyes along the length of his body. “You have to greet me with a kiss.”

He smirks, leaning against the counter. “I was already planning on it.”

You find yourself blushing, but continue. “And I want you to take me somewhere you enjoy. Not somewhere that you think might impress me, or somewhere you think I’m expecting for a first date. Somewhere that means something to you that you want to share with me.”

He reaches out and grabs one of your hands in his, running a thumb over the inside of your wrist that has no business being as intimate as it is. “I can do that. Anything else?”

The words are out before you can take them back, the idea landing in your head in one second, leaving your mouth the next. “You have to tell me what you’re thinking.”

This request causes his eyebrows to rise on his forehead, and the thumb he has on your skin pauses. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean,” you say, clearing your throat and trying to recover from the way you had just blurted out the sentence, “that I want to know what’s going on inside your head.”

He looks vaguely amused, and his ministrations on your wrist continues. “You may not like what’s in there.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” you tell him simply with a shrug, deciding it's too late to go back now. “Doesn’t have to be anything deep, just…share how you’re feeling, I guess? I can always tell there’s more you want to say than what you actually say, so maybe…let some of that filter go.”

“And is this only for dinner?” He questions, head tilting to the side as if in contemplation. “Or starting now?”

Despite the fact that it had been your request to know what was going on in his head, you suddenly feel shy, and you find yourself fidgeting with the bracelet on your wrist, shifting your weight from side to side. “Now, maybe? What are you thinking about right now?” 

There’s a short bout of silence, as he tilts his head at you, and you take in the way his breathing has stuttered slightly, a small flush on his own cheeks. 

“I’m thinking about how I like having you this close to me,” he eventually answers, and you note the way his tone has softened slightly, no longer as flirtatious but every bit as happy. 

Your breath catches briefly, but you recover with a quick shake of your head. 

“You…could come closer,” you tell him after a moment. You take another deep breath to steady yourself, observing the way the temperature in the room seems to have increased by a few degrees. Everything suddenly feels so hot. “If you want.”

His wide smile returns, and it almost sends a shock to the system. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirm with a nod, angling your body so that it’s a little more aligned with his. “If that’s what you want.”

Matt doesn’t say anything, but instead takes it as an opportunity to push you lightly towards the wall, encouraging you to take small steps back until your back is pressed against it. He’s close, but not in a way that feels suffocating. The heat radiating off of him burns, and yet you can’t help but feel like you want to burn right there along with him.

“I’ve thought about you like this,” he admits with a sigh, one arm rising and bending so that he’s leaning over you, elbow and forearm resting against the wall above your head. “I’ve thought about this a lot, actually.”

“About me at your mercy?” You tease, watching in fascination as the beautiful flush rises in his cheeks. You’re not quite sure if it’s from the teasing words, or if he feels just as affected as you at the close proximity of your bodies. You hope it's both, longing to know it's not just you that has trouble thinking when he's near.

“No,” he says, before he laughs abruptly. “Well, yes, I have thought about that. But that’s not what I meant. I’ve thought about you pressed against me like this. I’ve thought about you maybe letting me kiss you like this.”

You swallow, hand suddenly reaching out to grasp his tie as if to settle yourself, ignoring the way your finger lets out a quiet, dull throb as it comes into contact with the fabric through the bandaid. “And how–how would you–”

“How would I kiss you?”

You're rooted to the spot, mouth suddenly too dry to really say anything, so you just nod shakily. You watch with rapt attention as he removes his red glasses, wide eyes trailing over the face that is now fully exposed to you. You’ve seen him without his glasses a few times now, but never this close, and the sight is one you know you’ll never get tired of seeing. 

This was not how you had imagined your Monday morning going, but you’ll be damned if you don't take advantage of it.

“Hmm,” he voices underneath his breath, appearing thoughtful, transferring his glasses to the hand that’s resting on the wall above you. “I think…I think I’d start with this.” His fingers reach up and trail lightly over your cheekbone before he hooks a piece of hair over your ear. You shiver, and the slight movement causes his lips to twitch into a small smile. 

“I think I’d want to touch every inch of skin that you’d let me,” he whispers, the sound floating down to your ears in a caress as soft as fingers. “And I’d start with this beautiful face of yours.”

“How can you possibly know I’m–”

“I don't need to see you to know that, sweetheart,” Matt interrupts you gently, and the term of endearment settles warmly across your skin. “Where was I?” The question is asked rhetorically, so you don’t say anything, simply waiting with bated breath as the pads of his fingers continue to stroke over your cheek. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, and you can’t help but sigh at the touch.

His hand moves softly down from your face until it’s cupping your jaw, tilting your head up towards his, the angle perfect for him to lean down and press his lips to yours, but he keeps his mouth hovering over yours for a second. You try to nudge forward, wanting his lips on yours more than anything, but he pulls back enough so that you’d have to rise on to your tip toes to put your mouth on his. He chuckles quietly.

“I think I get the point, Matt,” you say breathlessly, and if it were anyone else, you might be ashamed of how quickly you’ve lost control of yourself.

Another quiet laugh escapes him. “Greedy, are we?” He leans down again and rubs his nose over the tip of yours, and you can’t help the way your other hand reaches up and slides into his hair at the back of his neck. 

“So are you.”

He takes a step forward so that now he’s completely pressed against you, no space left between your bodies. He is firm where you are soft, and the difference is intoxicating. “Yes, I am.”

And with that, his mouth is finally on yours. 

The pressure is light, almost light enough that you’d think he wasn’t actually kissing you if it weren’t for the heat that he was pressing on your lips. He doesn’t move for a steady moment, simply allowing you both to enjoy the way it feels to be so close and leaning into each other. The hand resting on your jaw slides down so that it’s gently cradling your throat. If it were anyone else, you’d probably jerk away, nervous to have someone holding such a delicate part of you in their grasp.

But Matt isn’t anyone else, he is the man you’re pretty sure you’re in love with, and you trust him with every square inch of your body he wishes to touch. 

The pressure on your lips increases, and you feel his mouth move against yours, gently coaxing it open. You follow his lead, allowing him to pull a lip slowly between his teeth, biting down lightly. Gasping, your grip on his tie tightens, and he takes advantage of the way your mouth has opened to let the sound out. He slides his tongue against yours for a brief moment, giving you a slight taste of the pure havoc he could wreak upon other parts of your body should you let him, before he pulls away.

He presses his forehead to yours, breathing just as heavily as you, much to your satisfaction. He sounds just as wrecked as you are at the moment. 

“Is this still okay?” he asks quietly after a moment, the hand that had been cradling your throat coming back up to cup your cheek, the fingers leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You nod, unable to form words with him so close to you, and his mouth remains just a few inches away from yours. Your heart is pounding in your throat, and you haven’t quite managed yet to catch your breath.

With a small smile, one that seems far too knowing, he leans back in, no doubt feeling the way your skin is burning beneath his touch.

The door to the office suddenly opens, but when your head pulls away and instinctively turns to look and greet whoever is walking through the door, Matt’s finger and thumb on your chin quickly draws you back so that you’re still facing him. 

“It’s probably just Foggy,” he whispers, face still close enough to yours to feel his breath lightly caress your skin. Sure enough, there’s a loud exaggerated sigh before loud footsteps head down the small hallway, the door to Foggy’s office down the hall closing quietly without a word.

“How did you–”

His thumb moves from your cheek to brush lightly over your bottom lip, and you feel your cheeks flush again. “He called and said he would be here around 8am to work on the Erickson case. We have a conference call in a few minutes.”

“Ah,” you say, eyes flitting across his handsome face, admiring the way the morning sunlight makes his brown eyes look almost green. “That makes sense.”  

There’s a look on Matt’s face that somehow manages to be a mixture of amused and heated. His fingers trail down your neck an down to your chest, running over your collar bone, before they journey back upwards, grasping your jaw again. You watch him the whole time, your body thrumming with an energy you don’t think you’ve ever felt before.

“How’s that for telling you what I’m thinking?” He asks, leaning forward again to brush his lips down your cheek. “Is this what you wanted?”

You huff out a quiet laugh. “Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting you to turn it into a moment where you kiss me breathless in the office, but I’m not going to complain.”

“And if I want to do it again?” He tilts your head to the side and does the same to your other cheek. “Would you let me?”

You gulp, hand tightening around the tie that’s still in your grasp. “I think I’d let you do whatever you wanted at this point.”

His expression darkens, but certainly not in a way that suggests anger. Instead, Matt almost looks like he’s two seconds away from hiking up your skirt, lifting you off your feet, and pinning you to the wall while he has his way with you.

Which…you'd totally be okay with.

“What a good girl,” he whispers, and the phrase sends another shock of blistering heat straight down your body. 

The words, paired with the look on his face, are unlike anything you’ve experienced with him before, and it seems to open up a whole new part of Matthew Murdock that you’re suddenly very eager and willing to explore.

You’ve been introduced to sweet Matthew. Wickedly smart Matthew. Gentle Matthew. But dark and hungry Matthew is a whole new ball game. You’ve loved taking your time with him, loved the way he seems to handle you with such affection and care and soft consideration, but you know that when you both finally reach the point of no return, you’ll be completely blown away and taken apart by the man in front of you.

His lips are on yours again, still a gentle press despite the sharp look of longing on his face, and you know you’ll never tire of the way they feel when they’re pressed against you.

“Matt,” Foggy’s voice rings out through the office, almost effectively ruining the moment, which is probably a good thing with the way you currently want to tear off Matt’s clothes just to feel his skin pressed to yours. You turn your head and see that the other man has walked into the break room's  line of sight, standing there with his hands on his hips as he takes in Matt pressing you into the wall. He flashes you a brief smile before rolling his eyes at his friend.

“Take your lips off of your girl and bring your shit into my office. We should run through a few things before we hop on that call.”

The comment causes your cheeks to flood, and you find yourself liking the sound of them, more and more with each passing millisecond.

Matt’s girl.

You don't really care about the rest of his sentence, to be honest, too hung up on those two specific words.

“Be right there, Fog.”

Foggy groans, and you can’t help but giggle despite the fact that he’s interrupted a very nice moment with Matt. “I was super nice and didn’t say anything when I walked in. Time to repay that kindness and do you fucking job.”

Matt laughs, still unaware of the words that are echoing in your head. Surely he must be able to feel the way your heart is pounding with him still so close to you. “One minute. I’ll be there in one minute.”

You see Foggy throw up his hands in exasperation before he turns and walks back into his office. Once the door is shut, your head turns and your eyes drift back up to Matt. The hunger has left his face, and has been replaced by the look of adoration he so often has when he’s focused on you. Sweet and gentle Matt is back, and you can’t help but smile.

“I’ve got to go, sweetheart,” he says, putting his glasses back on and taking a small step back, arm no longer resting against the wall. He leans down and presses a quick kiss to your forehead. “We’ll be done in an hour or so. Will you still be here?”

You shake your head with a light, regretful sigh. “No, Karen needs me down at The Bulletin to look through some things with Ellison this morning. But we’re all doing happy hour later, right?”

He nods with a smile of his own, the laugh lines you love so much becoming clearer on his face. “I’ll see you later, then.” He squeezes your hand gently, turning to walk down towards his partner’s office.

You’re not quite sure what drives you to reach back out to him, but you do it anyway, using his tie to yank him into you. All you know is that you’re not quite ready for him to leave you, needing just a few more moments of his full attention and lips on yours. Matt turns with a light gasp, mouth parted in shock.

“What–”

Before he can finish his question, you pull his head down towards yours, standing up on your tip toes to meet him halfway. His shock only lasts for a second before he’s returning the kiss with another flare of sharp heat, his arms wrapping themselves around you seemingly without thought. Whereas the previous kisses had been slow and sweet and soothing, this one is full of fire.

You break away almost as quickly as you had pulled him in, shifting your weight back down fully onto your feet, hand still wrapped around his tie. He lets out a startled laugh.

“What was that?”

“Your girl," is all you say. It’s not a question, because you’re not asking if you are, in fact, his girl; you’re telling him you are.

Matt doesn’t need an explanation for what you’re referring to, his mouth splitting into a wide smile that’s so blinding it almost hurts. He doesn’t hesitate when he opens his mouth in reply.

“My girl,” he confirms, and your heart can’t help but skip a beat. “I think I could be okay with that.”

You let out a gasp of mock indignation. “You think?” 

“I’m still a bit undecided,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders that tries to appear nonchalant but fails. “It really just depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether or not you kiss me like that again,” Matt tells you with a smirk that shouldn’t be as endearing as it is.

With a fond roll of your eyes, you pull him back into you again, hand still wrapped around his tie, the other on the back of his head. His lips are almost on yours when Foggy’s frustrated growl reverberates through the office.

“Matt! I’m about to fire you if you don’t get your ass in here right. this. second!”

"We are equal partners in this Foggy," Matt responds, voice carrying easily, his attention still never wavering from your. "You can't fire me."

"I slept for all of thirty minutes last night," the other man snaps, and you can't help but giggle at the tired frustration in his voice. "You do not want to mess with me right now."

The man still leaning against you hesitates for a brief moment before he continues his descent towards you anyway, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that could very easily lead to more if either one of you had the time, before laughing and pulling away. He opens his mouth to say something, but is cut off.

"MATT!"

With one last grin and peck on your lips, Matt turns around and walks away. “Coming!”

You're left staring after him, hand reaching up to brush the ghost of his kiss that he left behind. With an utterly lovesick sigh that you can't hold back, you walk back towards your desk, sweeping up your purse and files into your arms, ready to make your way towards where you're meeting up with Karen. 

You glance briefly at Foggy's office door, already missing the dark haired man inside, knowing that you'd willingly suffer a lifelong series of sharp and stinging paper cuts if it meant you'd always end up with his lips on yours. 

A Boy? ||

Pairing: Platonic! Matt Murdock x Reader x MCU! Peter Parker

Words: 3,416

Overview: Matt isn't sure what to think when you ask him to be your friend's lawyer; surprised someone's actually wormed their way into your heart or protective because it's a boy. This is honestly one of my favorite fics I've written in a while. Matt would definitely be able to multitask between being a really good lawyer and a protective dad 😍

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"I...need your help."

It's not unheard of for you to visit Matt at the firm every now and again, especially in recent months where you've almost become comfortable with the idea, so when he first recognized the pattern of your footsteps approaching the door, he thought nothing of it and instead prepared himself for one of your typical yet playful insults; the closest form of affection you've ever been know to show.

Even if taking a moment to consider the chance that you might be here to ask for something, he would've figured it to be something simple that comes with a stubborn bite to your words. Perhaps you lost your key to the apartment and have come to him for a spare or maybe you just need a few dollars to buy lunch. Aloud both outcomes do sound unlikely since Matt knows you're rather organized and calculated with your money after having a childhood of nothing, but he can't imagine any other reason you'd be requesting his help right now.

To his surprise, there's a noticeably quickened pace to your heartbeat and a quiet hesitation with your movements as you shut the office door behind yourself. You're afraid not embarrassed which isn't an emotion you don't often allow yourself to show and it's this awareness that raises concern in Matt.

Matt has known you for about two years now- seven years if you count the time passed during the Blip not that you were around for it-, but he'd be reluctant to say you're close, at least in a mutual sense.

You're dangerously headstrong, as he's learned, especially when it comes to your goal of being entirely self sufficient. You hate to admit weakness in any form, both physically and emotionally, thus you've developed the terrible habit of distancing yourself from others even if they have nothing except good intentions. While Matt can't justly critique you on a practice he himself is guilty of, he has tried his best throughout the years to earn your trust while reminding himself never to take your pushback personally.

You're rather young, only just hitting eighteen yet you've arguably been through more heartache than even he has which is certainly saying something. Orphaned then trained to basically act as a child soldier, it's safe to say you never had a normal childhood which ultimately influenced your personality and difficulty relating to others. When Matt- or better put Daredevil- first met you, you were barely more than a feisty teenager accustomed to only relying on yourself and living life at the mercy of none other than Wilson Fisk. You were cold just as those around you, but at the end of day, you were also just a shattered kid trying to survive; a little example of what's wrong with this cruel world.

You understandably hated Daredevil in the beginning, seeing him as the enemy you've been conditioned to destroy. You both had a few small run-ins with each other before one particular fight that ended with the building exploding. All you can really remember of that night was being alone and heavily injured within the flames, your 'friends' having long saved their own asses by willingly leaving you behind to choke on hazardous smoke. Next thing you knew, you awoke in Daredevil's dark apartment, the man in question explaining the situation after calmly stopping you from attempting to stab him with the pair of scissors left on the table.

Even though you had run right back to Fisk by sunrise, Matt knew there must be promise in you since you never sold out his location and his faith would prove true when he slowly yet surely managed to gain enough of your trust to help you believe in his word that he'd take down Fisk in turn for your cooperation. He kept that word, too, freeing you from the chains that held you down to a life of crime, however the scars that remained took far longer to even begin the process of healing.

Matt generously took you in, although you still struggled with plenty of old habits, the worst being stealing and getting into fights on the street. Whenever he'd confront you on it, a heated argument would ensue until you'd eventually run off, forcing Matt to go out looking for you upon your refusal to return home on your own. There were also the nightmares that plagued your sleep each night, often frightening Matt when he'd be out as Daredevil only to hear your blood curdling screams from back at the apartment, but you've always refused to share those inner demons even now.

Matt must admit that those early days truly tested him. He hated himself for thinking it, but at times he'd wonder if you both wouldn't have been better off if he hadn't nudged his way into your life to begin with. Before you, he was a single man who couldn't even keep a girlfriend and had not an ounce of experience being any sort of role model or father figure. Maybe the words you tended to scream at him were right. You don't need him, after all, he's just as broken as you; two brokens can't possibly make a right, can they?

Fortunately despite his insecurities and worries, it got easier. He had the constant support of Foggy and Karen while Father Lantom provided religious reminders as guidance. Overtime, your behavior shifted even if slowly. You learned that the apartment is a safe place and that there's always food in the fridge, so no need to steal. As you bonded more, Matt taught you to meditate to better control your emotions which also seemed to help smooth your nightmares. You even began feeling comfortable while in the presence of his friends which was a huge step forward.

Ultimately, Matt's proud of you and everything you've managed to overcome. Of course, it's not to say rough spots don't still present themselves, in fact the Blip itself has backtracked your progress slightly, although no one can blame you for that. You were terrified to learn you had disappeared for five years, the only good coming out of that entire situation being the realization that your dusting had destroyed Matt. Foggy explained that to you one day when Matt wasn't at the firm during your visit. According to him, his friend barely ate or slept, blaming himself for not somehow protecting you as he promised even if it really was out of his hands. It was this knowledge that made you feel loved for the first time in your life and you've since allowed yourself to finally trust Matt's care towards you (not that you've ever found a way to tell him that yet).

While you can't seem to find the words to express your affection towards the only parent figure you've ever known, you've decided to go to him for help towards your current dilemma which is the reason for your visit today, but irritatingly despite your trust, you find yourself nervous, your past habits betraying you with the fear that perhaps there's a ever so small possibly Matt will turn you away.

"What's up?" He raises an eyebrow, sensing your nerves which confuse him. He's certain he would've heard by now if Fisk is out of jail and there's no way you'd let anyone else on the street push you around. Maybe it's school? You don't tell him anything about school other than confirming your grades are good, so he'd be a little surprised if you ask for help studying, but he would hope you know he'll be happy to help if it's that.

You're chewing on your lip, debating if you should continue with your request. You truly thought you'd have no problem coming to him anymore and you know he's a good guy who can help, after all he's already done so much for you by taking you under his wing. Still, what if he gets mad because he has done enough for you and you have no right asking for more?

"What's wrong?" Matt changes his question, his voice softer now as he finally sets down his papers. He's growing more concerned, although he fights not to show it in case the emotion might scare you away.

"Okay, so um...There's...This boy..."

His face scrunches, but he's not sure why. One side of him wants to immediately direct you towards Karen, insisting she'd be a much better option for that type of advice than himself, however the other louder side feels a curd of anger inside his stomach, wanting to press on about why you're mentioning 'a boy'. 

What boy? Do you have a boyfriend? When did that happen? Yes, you're eighteen which many would argue is old enough to date, but it doesn't feel like it. You should at least be thirty before you date, right?

"A boy...?"

"Yeah- from school," that was a lie; a blatant one at that. You must've met him somewhere. Where? You refuse to say," he's not actually just any boy. He's...Well, he's my friend-"

Matt blinks, certain this is the first time he's ever heard you use the word 'friend' before. This 'boy' must really be something special to have you use such an intimate term towards him.

"-And he's run into some legal trouble recently."

Now Matt's lips are curled into a scowl he can't hide as he leans back in his chair with crossed arms. Oh no. A boy involved in legal trouble is not the type to be involved with you. Sure, you've had a lengthy criminal record yourself, but you weren't ever charged and are, what Matt would call, a victim. You're a good kid now even if you could still kick someone's teeth in if desired. No law breaking boy needs to be getting mixed up with you!

"What kind of 'legal trouble'?" His question is a little too stern not that he notices much, instead keeping his covered eyes directed to where he hears you standing. If he had a clear mind, he might've regretted that forceful tone once you begin fidgeting with your hands.

"He...Have you heard the news lately?"

So, this guy has gotten himself in enough trouble to be on the news? This conversation isn't going in a direction Matt likes," I have, but you'll have to be more specific. The news covers a lot of criminal activity."

"I wouldn't go as far as to call him a 'criminal'. He's innocent, he's just gotten the short end of the stick is all-"

"-And did he tell you that?"

"No- Well yeah, but I knew it already! I mean it when I say he's a really good guy, Matt. Like amazingly good; almost too good to be true, but he is! He'd do anything to protect this city because he's just that caring and sweet. He's...Well, he's, um..." Matt raises an eyebrow as you trail off, although he pays more attention to the way your body heats up and your heartbeat accelerates. 

Oh...

Oh...

Now Matt has a true dilemma on his hands. Until now, you've never mentioned having a single friend before, so one side of him wants to be happy with the knowledge that you, the most stubborn and distant person to exist on planet Earth (aside from maybe Frank), have fallen in love. Maybe it's not the most comfortable discussion and he can't deny he'd worry regardless of the circumstances, but if it's something that allows you to feel normal for once, then that's excellent. The only problem is he can't say he agrees with your criminal type. Why can't you be interested in someone law abiding?

Fiddling with your fingers, you miss Matt's silence as a sign of conflict and instead take it as him waiting for you to get to the point, thus you do with a quiet, meek voice,"...and he's kinda Spiderman..."

Matt blinks, caught off guard by your confession which had almost been muted by his inner thoughts," Spiderman...? The vigilante from Queens?"

You nod," I guess there's no harm in telling you his name's Peter Parker since the whole world already knows that now...Anyways I met him a while ago and we became friends, but...Well, you've heard what the news is trying to say about him, right? His identity got leaked and now they're trying to pin him as some sort of killer, but he isn't- I know he isn't. Peter's like you. He'd never kill anyone even if they're some crazed villain the streets would be safer without. I mean, you can tell he didn't do it just by how upset he is over all this!

"They're trying to ruin his life- not only his life, but also his friends' and aunt's...They won't let off and he doesn't deserve it. He needs a lawyer-a really good one at that. I thought that maybe...Maybe you could help him out, ya' know? You said us vigilantes have to look out for one another, right? So, could you help Spiderman? E-Even if just as one last favor for me? I swear I won't ask for anything else just...Can you please help him, Matt? Please..."

There's tears in your eyes at this point which is a rare occurrence usually only found on nights of particularly bad nightmares. This is one of those moments where it's clear you're only a kid. Standing in front of his desk, you keep your head bowed and hands clenched to the bottom of your shirt as you stubbornly fight to not get emotional, a fight nearly lost by that sniffle of your nose. Even after your nightmares or back before Matt saved you from Fisk, you've never been this scared. Of course, there's a clear difference from then and now.

This Peter Parker must really be something special. He must be able to bring a smile to your face by his presences alone, drawing hours of laughter from you over countless dumb jokes or helping you let loose by inviting you out with him and his friends, maybe even for movie nights at his apartment which might explain those few days over the last month where you didn't return home until after midnight.

Those nights he must listen to your worries, being the only person trusted with the details of your nightmares as he cuddles you close and promises to never let anyone hurt you again. He must make you feel like a giddy teenager, an experience that had once been stolen from you by people like Fisk. Around Peter, you aren't a child soldier or a dangerous killer or even a broken soul; you're (Y/n) (L/n), just a normal girl who'd do anything to protect the most precious thing she has to hold.

It takes you by surprise when Matt stands up suddenly, taking his cane from where it had been folded on the table and clicking it into place with a 'snap'," do you know his address?"

"H-Huh?"

"I'm assuming you know where Parker lives, correct? There's a lot to discuss if I'm going to help him with his legal troubles so it's best we get started immediately. Isn't that what you want?" Matt has a faint hint of a smirk pulling at his lips as he walks past you to the door, only stopping with his hand upon the doorknob.

Your eyes follow him, the wheels inside your head turning as you process his words. Soon, you're beaming, a noticeable uplift to your voice with relieved tears being blinked back in your eyes," thank you, Matt!"

"Take a seat, Mr. Parker."

When Matt had announced the charges against Peter won't stick, the teen had been endlessly thankful. Between you finding him a good lawyer that didn't dent his pockets and said lawyer being able to remove his legal troubles, he's been giddy with relief and saw no issue with Matt's request to speak with him privately before his departure, after all, it's the least he can do for someone who's already helped him so much during his greatest time of need.

Even after being told to sit back down, Peter does so with a unfazed smile on his face," is there something else I need to be worried about? You said the charges aren't going to stick, so I should be good, yeah?" 

"Oh, I don't want to talk to you about anything related to the court."

Now Peter blinks in confusion, his smile taking a hit," oh?"

"I want to talk to you about (Y/n)."

"O-Oh..." Peter's confusion turns into a fiery blush, one that makes Matt's own face twist into a look of disgust he fights to hide.

"How long have you known her?"

"Um, about a year I think- Well, actually, I guess it's technically been about five years since we met before the Snap but-"

"-And has she told you about her past working for Wilson Fisk?"

Peter's heart noticeably skips a beat as he looks to Matt with wide eyes. His mouth opens in preparation to lie to his lawyer for the first time, denying that you'd ever work for Fisk because you definitely aren't some teenage vigilante he's been fighting alongside as Spiderman since the last year, however after giving his response some thought and studying Matt's careful expression, he decides to just be truthful.

"Yeah...Yeah, she has."

"Then you must understand how difficult it's been for her to trust other people after everything she's been through. I must admit I was surprised when she first brought you up. She was very adamant that I act as your lawyer and since then she's spent nearly every day asking about you. She's clearly extremely fond of you."

It probably isn't the best time for it, but a bashful smile crosses Peter's face, his gaze falling to his hands as he dwells on Matt's words. You? Fond of him? That's not allowed, is it? 

Of course, Peter's always had eyes for you. Ned and MJ tease him about it all the time. Hell, it's why Spiderman even decided to approach you in the first place. He had been utterly starstruck to watch some super hot vigilante swoop in out of nowhere and apprehend a pair of criminals before he could. In awe, he just had to walk up to you and give some incredibly lame joke that successfully resulted in you giving a goddess's laugh that numbed his heart. Since then, Peter made sure to become your friend (and biggest admirer), so to think you might actually be fond of him, too? Well, he could never be luckier!

"With that said, I wanted to thank you, Peter," the young hero is taken back by Matt's sudden words of gratitude," you make her happy; happier than anyone else has managed. Hearing her talk about you is the first time I've heard her sound like a normal teen, and if you were to ask her out, I'm certain she'd agree. I'll even give you my blessing to do so."

"A-Ah! Thank...Thank you, sir!"

"But-" Matt adjusts his glasses before suddenly leaning forward, his hands cupped together as a shadow crosses over his expression,"- just know, that if you ever do anything to break my daughter's heart, I'll personally ensure you deal with the Devil."

The breath in Peter's throat catches, his mouth opening and closing a few times in attempts to grasp onto some quick response which he's normally talented in delivering, but alas, nothing comes. Spiderman really shouldn't have to fear a blind man, but there's something about Matt's tone that sinks into his bones as a frigid warning that begs him to be smart, not dismissive.

Grabbing his cane, the lawyer calmly stands and walks past Peter, only stopping to pat a stern hand on his shoulder," good talk, Spidy."

It's cruel; the way Matt leaves behind a shocked Peter Parker while wearing a smug smirk of his own. He's not even guilty in the slightest, shown by the way he doesn't even care to rid of his expression when noticing you leaned against the wall outside the apartment door with crossed arms. He assumes by the harshness to your voice that your eyebrows are pinched downwards as you glare his way- a glare he's too familiar with feeling at this point to be bothered.

"Are you serious?"

"What?" He gives a mocked look of innocents that you refuse to buy.

Instead, you suck in a breath, fighting to ignore both your burning cheeks along with your irritation towards the lawyer and his poor attempt at playing dumb. Marching on by, you purposely bump into his shoulder, hissing under your breath,"...that wasn't cool, dad..."

The Things We Never Talk About

Synopsis: A health scare reveals to Peter the things she never talks about, and worse, the things she keeps hidden for fear of speaking them into being.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader (she/her pronouns); established relationship, angst, worry, fluff; Basically, if you’d like to suffer and then recover in 9k words, read this.

Warnings/Spoilers: health related concerns (spoiler warning: reproductive health is included), troubled family history, horrible mothers, mental illness, tragedies, mentions of other elements related to these issues. This is quite emotionally demanding, but ends on a positive note. Also, please note that the medical info in this is intentionally manipulated for the story’s convenience. For example, you cannot diagnose certain illnesses with a blood test, but one is used here. There aren’t any bogus claims or anything like that, but medical accuracy is sweked.

Words: 9.3K

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A half hour has passed since she received the call from Dr. Connely, and the same half hour has been spent staring at the wall farthest away from her work desk. No one has called her out for it yet, but then again, the office is mostly empty today. Few people choose to come in when the weather resembles the end times, but she happens to like torrential rain. It’s especially nice when you work on the first floor, rather than the 14th, but somehow not even the thundering of rain drops can distract her mind.

She doesn’t know what this means, for now or for the future.

She does, however, wish she hadn’t gone for that check-up. Yes, she would’ve been postponing the inevitable and embroiling both her and her partner in something entirely nebulous, but she just wishes she had more time.

Peter.

What kind of world is this, where at once you’re the happiest you’ve ever been, and then a six minute phone call severs the branch from under your feet?

Maybe she should’ve suspected something, or at least been more cautious, given the state of things. Family history being what it is for her, the likelihood of this outcome was sadly not that low.

And now it proves devastating.

Going home weighs heavy on both heart and mind, and ten blocks away the pitter-patter on the umbrella has become too much, so she puts it away. Not even two blocks later, she’s soaked to the bone but successfully distracted, at least temporarily. She knows Peter’s arrival isn’t that far away, and in a moment of fear, she considers not going inside and just meandering about in the storm.

Weiterlesen

it's the Catholic guilt, Foggy, there's no stopping it.

To my late night scrollers, the ones that are just like me, looking for comfort and love, acceptance and a way to escape.

We all have the thing that helps us, for many of us on this site it's fanfiction. Whether it be hurt/comfort, noncon, a/b/o, friends to lovers or even the one bed trope, everyone has the fics that help us through, with the characters we dream about that make us feel loved, appreciated, wanted.

They're here, waiting for you, ready to see what adventures they're in for tonight. Ready to be your comfort, your friend, your shoulder to cry on. What will you two do tonight? They're so excited, maybe they're waiting with bated breath, ready to meet you all over again, to fall for you again, ready to relive that favorite story, you're happiest moments.

They're there, arms open, smile wide, ready for you. You're their favorite character, their favorite part of the day.

I hope you're scrolling tonight goes well, that you get what you need. I hope that tomorrow is better then today and that at some point, you wake up and don't need the comfort as much, that it's not a need anymore.

From the girl on Tumblr who wishes she could give every single one of you the love and comfort you deserve. Remember, your comfort character believes in you, and so do I.

MY HEART IS BURSTING WITH HAPPINESS RN

how about tasm!peter helping reader overcome anxiety, but she has a hard time expressing herself to others, even about anxiety. but peter wants to help comfort her no matter what 🤍 don't need to write this if you don't want lol

AN | Okay, this got away from me, but I think it’s so cute! There’s also a first kiss🥰❤️

Pairing | tasm!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 3.9k

Masterlist | Main | Peter

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Peter Parker was pretty. Really fucking pretty. 

That was one of the first things you’d noticed about him freshman year in your early morning biochem class. You learned, later on, that he was also incredibly kind, charming, and ridiculously smart. Like genius level smart. You knew he liked photography, which happened to be a hobby of your own. You wanted to be his friend; you’d thought many times about going up and speaking to him, but always talked yourself out of it.

Why would Peter Parker want to be your friend?

Instead you admired from afar, from a safe distance. But once you both graduated from ESU and went on to getting advanced degrees, you were sure that you’d never see him again. After all, New York was a huge city, and the odds that your lives would be intertwined enough to run into each other on a regular basis seemed slim to none. 

So - imagine your surprise when you started working as a research scientist at Biotech a few years and another degree later and you found that Peter Parker was starting at the same time as you. You’d done so well to keep your distance, to keep your feelings in check by being a silent admirer. But now, not only would you be seeing him every day…you’d be working closely with him in a lab all by yourself. 

You had no clue how you were going to survive, and part of you was tempted to quit and look for a different job, but you’d worked so long and so hard for this position that you weren’t going to just give it up. You were just going to have to suck it up. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

And it worked, surprisingly. Peter was nothing if not polite and kind, and honestly he was a dream to work with. The two of you had a certain synchronicity that just was hard to put into words, but you complimented perfectly. Despite your initial fear, working in a lab with Peter went well. The worst part was that it made it all the more easy to fall for him. But you doubted he would ever see you as anything other than the girl at work. 

“Hey,” Peter softly interrupted your silent prayer to release any feelings for him with a soft smile. It was getting later into the evening and you were both getting ready to leave for the weekend. You flashed him a smile in response but slipped on your coat, “I was wondering…umm, do you want to grab a bite to eat?”

No way. No freaking way was Peter Parker asking you to get dinner. Right? Right?

“I-I’m sorry,” you blinked a few times and looked at him with wide eyes. His cheeks flushed a pretty pastel shade of pink as he nervously ran a hand through his hair, “what did you say?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to get some dinner,” he repeated softly, shrugging one of his shoulders lightly, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to, of course. I just thought it might be nice to spend some time outside of work together.”

“You want to spend time with me?” your eyebrows shot up in surprise. You needed to make an appointment to get your ears checked. Peter would never want to be with you outside of work. Or, if anything, he might have been so lonely that he welcomed anyone’s company, “me?”

“Yes you,” he laughed softly and it was a sound you’d memorized over the years but still made your knees weak. He took a step closer and bit his lip for a moment, “let me clarify so we’re both on the same page - I, Peter Parker, am asking you, you, if you’d like to go out and dinner.”

“Oh,” every dream you’d ever had of Peter seemed to be coming true then and there. Peter liked you, Peter wanted to spend time with you; maybe you’d never been invisible to him after all. But no. You couldn’t…you just couldn’t. You were sure if anything he’d spend about ten minutes with you alone and he’d grow bored of you and make some excuse to leave. The idea that Peter would end up being bored of you was enough to make you never want to speak again, “umm…Peter, t-that’s really nice of you to ask. But I just…can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” it was laced with disappointment and you could see his face falling. You were pretty sure you’d just made things so much worse than if you’d just agreed on going, “no worries! I just thought I’d ask, it’s no big deal - maybe next time…well, enjoy your weekend.”

“You too, Peter,” you watched as he grabbed his bag and left, pausing at the door to turn around and give you a small wave. You returned and remained rooted in place, regret clouding your mind. If you hadn’t had such bad anxiety, you would have said yes. But the fear of messing everything up had been worse. You sighed at yourself, “pathetic.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

There was something quite lovely about New York in the middle of the night. The city never quite deadened, but there was a lull to life that made everything feel so much calmer than normal. That, combined with the insomnia you struggled with from time to time, was enough of a reason for you to venture outside. You grabbed your camera and slowly climbed out of your window and onto the fire escape, slowly making your way the several floors up to the rooftop. When you got there, you set out a long exhale of relief as you looked around the space and found the big blanket you stashed up here for times like this. 

It was chilly out, but it was exhilarating and made you feel more alive than you had all day. You walked around the rooftop and looked out into the city, trying to find anything worthy of your attention. After scouring for a few minutes, you found a gathering on one of the nearby streets and decided to capture it. You framed the shot, but before you could even press the shutter, you heard something loud fall next to you, accompanied by a small oof. 

You dropped the camera which was luckily around a strap on your neck and turned towards the commotion. To your surprise and shock you found Spider-Man looking right back at you. You gasped, hands covered your face as you looked at the man in the blue and red spandex suit, “Spider-Man?”

“Hi,” he cheerily waved before putting his hands on his hips and cocking his head to the side, “what’re you doing up here? It’s freezing - and it’s late.”

“What are you doing on my roof?” you asked with just as much surprise. You’d seen him on the news, read about him on the internet, but you’d never seen him in the flesh before, “you’re shorter than I expected.”

He playfully groaned and you were sure that he’d rolled his eyes under that mask, “first of all, I’m patrolling, and I happened to be swinging by. Secondly - I’m above average height, thank you very much!”

“Well, I don’t know, I expected you to be like…6’5 or something,” you shrugged, stifling a laugh at his distress, “aren’t you a superhero and all?”

“I am still a person-”

“With spider-like abilities,” you found yourself grinning in spite of the initial nerves, “so I dunno, I figured you might be tall. The news does you justice I guess.”

“Yeah well…fine,” he huffed lightly as you laughed at him. You could have sworn that he sounded so familiar and you couldn’t quite place it. Part of you was sure that he sounded like Peter, but there was no way that your crush of eight plus years and lab partner was Spider-Man, “but seriously, what are you doing up here?”

“I…I couldn’t sleep,” you found it incredibly easy to talk to him, nerves and anxiety the last thing on your mind. Maybe it was the fact that you couldn’t see his face, or the fact that you had no clue who he was, “I go outside when I can’t sleep…it helps sometimes.”

“It’s dangerous,” he reminded you and you shrugged lightly, “you shouldn’t be out alone at night in this city.”

“Well I don’t exactly have someone that’s just available to come out with me at three in morning when I’m dealing with insomnia,” if you didn’t know any better you were sure that he sounded concerned, “it’s not the first time I’ve done this. I’ll be okay.”

“You have someone now,” he insisted and your mouth opened in surprise. When he saw the visible confusion on your face he pointed at himself, “that way I know you’ll be safe.”

“There’s only one problem with that.”

“Which is…?”

“How am I supposed to just call you if I need you?” you asked softly and he chuckled warmly as if there was some sort of inside joke between the two of you, “I don’t think there’s some sort of Spidey Signal or something.”

“I’ll be here,” he promised, “I’ll know.”

“Sure,” you liked the sound of it but you highly doubted he would just show up when you needed him. He had a whole city that he kept safe, and you were just one unimportant, small person among millions, “thanks for the concern.”

“I care about you, you know,” he said it like it was something of some personal thing to him. He must have caught his mistake because he quickly cleared his throat and added, “I care about everyone in New York.”

“Of course you do, you’re Spider-Man,” you gave him a small smile and decided that perhaps it was time for you to go. You were about to turn around and head for the fire escape when he stopped you.

“You have a camera,” you looked down before looking back at him and nodding softly, “you’re a photographer?”

“Amateur,” you confessed with a shy smile, “scientist by day, amateur photographer by night. It’s just a hobby, but it’s stuck with me through the years.”

“Wow,” you could tell that he sounded genuinely impressed. Peter, of course, knew you were a scientist, but he had no idea that you’d shared the same hobby too. It made his heart melt a little more, “that’s really cool.”

“Not as cool as being Spider-Man,” you insisted softly as he made a small sound, “I guess I better get going. And let you get back to work…or whatever you call it.”

“I’d love to see some of your work sometime,” the small that worked its way onto your face was breathtaking and made his knees weak, “if that’s okay.”

“Yeah,” you nodded with your face warm despite the chill of the late fall air, “definitely. Well…I guess I’ll see you around Spidey.”

“See you around, smart girl,” if he’d had the mask off, you’d have seen the giant, dopey grin on Peter’s face. But he was gone, swinging back into the evening as you stood there and stared after him.

You were pretty sure you had just  befriended Spider-Man. Holy fuck.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You really hadn’t expected to see him ever again. But on your next little, a late night walk through the streets of Queens, he made another appearance. He swung over and gracefully landed next to you, easily catching up to your stride. You couldn’t deny that you were elated to have him there. There was something easy about talking to him, about giving bits and pieces of yourself to him, and taking what he gave back. He was always careful not to give too much away, not to reveal too much of his real identity, but you felt like you were getting to know him. And you really liked him. You spend weeks upon weeks of your evenings with Spider-Man, growing closer than you’d have thought possible to the masked man.

On the other hand, it felt like your relationship with Peter was slowly slipping away. After that first night when you’d turned him down, you created a bit of a divide between the two of you. It wasn’t for lack of wanting to be his friend or even more, it was just that you didn’t trust yourself around him. He made was Peter fucking Parker and you were just…nobody. He never made you feel that way, but that’s just what you had ingrained in your mind. And, to your dismay, Peter slowly pulled back as well, which you took as rejection, when in reality it was him not wanting to make you uncomfortable. Either way, you wished you could go back in time and just say yes to him. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Spider-Man seemed to notice your glum mood the next time he saw you. You hadn’t even gone out to the roof or for a walk, but he’d made an appearance at your bedroom window, gently tapping on the glass once he’d spied you sitting at your desk, typing away. When you heard the noise, you turned around and your face morphed into a look of surprise and then happiness. You rushed over to open the window and let him.

“How did you know which window was mine?” you asked softly as he took your outstretched hand and stepped into the room. He set his hands on his hips and looked around your room, taking it all in; your face flushed with warmth as he realized he was getting a glimpse into your most intimate space. 

“I’m Spider-Man,” he said as though that explained everything, “I was in the neighborhood and wanted to see you.”

“You wanted to see me?” your face softened and he nodded. 

“Can I sit?” he pointed at your bed and you nodded eagerly before plopping back down into your cushy desk chair, “I like your room. ‘s cute.”

“I…I never thought Spider-Man would be in my bedroom, I might have decorated a little more,” you joked and he laughed lightly, but he could see that your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. He paused for a moment and you could feel that he was studying you, trying to pull you apart, “what?”

“You seem upset,” he whispered, leaning towards and holding out his hand. He hesitated for a moment, trying to make sure that he didn’t cross any of your boundaries, but when he noticed that you almost leaned, put his hand on the side of your face and gently stroked your cheek, “what’s wrong, my smart girl?”

My smart girl. He had a tendency to call you; you secretly loved it more than you cared to admit. 

“It’s nothing.” you insisted, biting the inside of your cheek in order to keep the tears from welling up. You put your hand on his forearm and gave it a gentle squeeze. When he made a small sound of concern in his throat, you couldn’t back the tears. A few pearled up and rolled down your cheeks, “it’s my own fault, it’s so stupid. Really, i-it’s fine.”

“It’s making you upset,” you could practically hear the frown in his voice as he used his thumb to wipe away your tears, “it’s not stupid if it’s making you upset. You don’t have to tell me…but I am here for you if you want to tell me. You can tell me anything.”

“It’s just…my friend,” you sighed lightly and pulled back, curling into yourself, “I think he’s my friend, anyway. I feel like I kept pushing him away and now I don’t think he wants to be my friend anymore. I don’t think he wants anything to do with me. We work together, and he almost never talks to me anymore unless it is about work.”

Peter’s breath hitched in his throat as he realized you were talking about him. He felt himself getting choked up as well, “what makes you think that?”

“I feel so dumb,” you shook your head, “it’s just that…I think I like him. I mean I do like him, a-as more than a friend. I’ve had a crush on Peter for a long time. Like eight years, but I’ve always thought I was invisible to him. But he just…he knows all these things about me, and it’s like…it feels like he’s always seen me, you know?”

“Why did you push him away?” Peter’s heart was beating so fast and hard he was surprised you couldn’t hear it, and even more surprised it didn’t just burst through his chest, “what happened?”

“He asked me if I wanted to have dinner with him,” you confessed as if he didn’t know all of this, “and I thought it was just as friends at first but I think he might have meant more…he seemed so upset when I said no. It made me sad to see him like that. I didn’t mean to hurt him or upset him, I just…I got so in my head and let my anxiety get the best of me. So I just said no.” 

“Did you want to say no?” he asked softly as you looked up and met his gaze through the white eyes of the mask. It just felt like he knew you, and that you knew him. There had always been that very familiar air about him, but you’d never been able to quite place why.

“No,” you admitted with a small, bitter little laugh, “I wanted to say yes. I want to spend more time with him and…I really do like him. But I’m afraid he’s going to get to know me more and think I’m boring or lame, or he just won’t like me. I have really bad anxiety and it really gets to me.”

“I’d never be able to guess,” he confessed and you gave him a small smile.

“It’s different with you,” you admitted shyly, “I feel comfortable around you, andI always have. I don't know why, but it’s true. That’s how I feel with Peter too, except that one time I clammed up so much and ruined everything.”

“I’m sure you didn’t ruin anything,” he insisted softly, and you couldn’t help but laugh lightly, “what’s so funny?”

“I don’t have as much confidence,” you shrugged, “how are you so sure? You don’t know Peter, you didn’t see the look on face when I said no. I…I never want to see that look on his face again. It made me so sad.”

Peter was internally debating on what to do. He could either tell you that it was him and risk the chance that you’d hate him forever for not telling you for so long and getting all of this out of you. Or he could continue on as Spider-Man and never tell you that it was. Or he could tell you tomorrow at work…as Peter. There were risks and benefits from each scenario. All he knew was that he couldn’t lose you; that would be too much.

“You know, Spidey, you remind me of Peter in some ways,” you whispered shyly and his heart plummeted into his stomach, “you sound like him. And you like a lot of the same things and I dunno…I feel the same way around you as I do around him. That’s never really happened with anyone before.”

“Listen-”

“It’s almost like….” you stopped yourself, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth as you shook your head, “it’s silly. So stupid, really.”

“Tell me,” he asked softly, “please.”

You inhaled softly, your heart pitter-pattering wildly in your chest. It was your turn to hold up your hand and reach over, ghosting your fingertips along his jaw. He leaned into your touch ever so slightly and you could feel the warmth of his skin even under the mask. You closed your eyes for a moment before exhaling shakily, “Peter?”

He paused for a moment before taking your hand and guiding it to the back of your neck where you felt the zip of the mask. You undid it softly, slowly, and when he sensed your hesitation, he helped you and slowly pulled off the mask, revealing himself to you. 

You gasped lightly when you found Peter Parker’s glittering honeyed eyes looking back at you nervously. You couldn’t help the nervous laugh that bubbled up, and he visibly relaxed when you didn’t get angry. He held up his hand nervously, “hi.”

“This whole time,” you felt your face warm up when you realized that you had basically confessed your feelings to him, “I knew you seemed familiar, Spidey. I should've known that it was you. I’ve never felt the way I do about you with anyone else. When it happened with Spider-Man, I didn’t think anything of it. But it was you this whole time.”

“I didn’t know if I should tell you,” he whispered, “but I wanted you to know. And I never meant to make you feel like I was pushing you away. I just didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable….when I had asked you out and you said no, I thought maybe you didn’t feel the same way, so I thought it’d be best to back off.”

“It wasn’t you,” you promised, “it never was. It was me. Peter, I meant what I said, I’ve had a crush on you since that first day in biochem. I wanted to be your friend for so long, but just could never bring myself to say anything. I thought maybe I could use the photography thing since that’s something we both like but it just never seemed like a good time. And when we started working together…it was nerve-wracking and wonderful. And when you asked me for dinner, I panicked and thought I would surely ruin everything, so I took the possibility of failure away by saying no and making it impossible.”

“Ever the logical scientist,” he smiled softly, “my smart girl. But so you know, you could never have ruined anything. Do you want to know a secret?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve liked you too,” he admitted and your heart felt like it was going to burst, “since that first day in biochem. But you’ve always been way out of my league, so I never said anything.”

“No way!”

“Way,” the look on your face was both pretty and priceless and he was dying to finally kiss you, “now you know all my secrets.”

“Do you want to know one of mine, Peter Parker?”

“Yes.”

“I thought about what it would be like to kiss you so many times,” you whispered so softly that he was sure he wouldn’t have been able to hear you without his heightened senses, “I’d really like to kiss you now.”

Peter’s eyes lit up and you both leaned in, his lips inches away from yours. After a moment of hesitation, he finally kissed you, soft and sweet. He pulled back much sooner than you would have wished, his eyes searching yours as if to make sure it was alright. Your beaming face told him it was more than alright. 

“Was that okay?” he sounded so nervous it was almost too precious.

“I think so,” you teased lightly, “but I am a scientist and need more data to form a proper conclusion.”

“As a fellow scientist, I’m more than happy to provide all the data you could need,” he was grinning from ear to ear, “if you want that is…”

“Yes, Peter Parker,” you kissed him softly, “I would love that.”