Sneak Peak: Matt Murdock X Ex-black Widow! Reader

sneak peak: matt murdock x ex-black widow! reader

a/n this fic has become sooo much longer than i originally thought it’d be, but i really want to put out something, so here’s my current favorite scene :)) (also im thinking about splitting it up into a mini series bc i’m doing so much lmao) if you want to be tagged in the full thing lmk :))

also writing matt murdock fics is about to become my new obsession bc i have so many ideas and i love his character and i really hope he comes off at least kind of accurate bc ive never written him before, so if this is bad im really sorry and im still getting used to him :))

also!! for this fic to make sense let’s all pretend that even with extensive research, someone wouldn’t know that natasha died when everyone came back from the blip :)) it’s part of the plot of the full fic 

Blood coats my fingers again. I wonder if something happens frequently enough if there’s still a point in using tenses. My hands were bloody; my hands will be bloody; my hands are bloody. If it’s promised to happen again, was I ever really free of its stain? 

The fighting is done. At least it is for now. Tonight was not particularly hard, in the physical sense. I’ve attacked people more prepared for someone of my skill level. I’ve attacked people with more dangerous weapons. I’ve been more violent, more brutal. But the people that lay near me, still breathing but broken, something about them sits with me incorrectly. They are a rib out of place in the chest. 

Wow. I’m not making any sense, not even to myself. I look at my hands again, the blood of my knuckles has combined itself with the blood of those I hurt. I can’t bring myself to feel sorry for them, but grief still burrows itself into me. 

These men were hurting girls. Children. The youngest that the masked men had tried to take was only 11. There was a time in which I was the frightened little girl, forced into a shipping crate with other frightened girls. Back then, all I had wanted was for it to be over. All I had wanted was for some kind of savior to break through the metal and fight off the monsters so that I could be anywhere else. 

Tonight I was that savior for those girls. I should feel better. I did something good. Natasha...she’d smile at me if she was here. She’d look at me and tell me that I did good. That should make me feel content, more focused, like there’s some kind of direction I know to move in. 

But it doesn’t. All I feel is her absence. I even feel the loss of Yelena, and I’m the one that told her to stay away. My fingers curl inwards, nails digging into the palms of my hands.

“That was efficient.” His voice is a reminder of why I can’t lose it here, on the abandoned side of the shipping docks.

Turning enough to look at him, I force myself to take a deep breath. A patient breath. There was something almost awkward about the way he said that. “You wanted my help.” I helped. I should feel better. “And I played by your rules. No one died.” The final word feels off. “I won’t apologize for my efficiency.” 

He’s still, watching me like he sees right through me. The part of me that clings to a life beyond bloody hands wants to shrink away. To vanish until it’s morning. With daylight comes the promise of normality. The day will let me shed this mission suit and replace it with the business casual wear of an intern of a law firm. I like that version of me better...she’s whole.

“No apologies necessary.” I blink, fighting the urge to turn even more. He’s closer than I realized. “I’m just curious.” 

Of course. That’s the problem with team ups or even just temporary mutual existence. The other person always wants to ask questions, and I can never offer them answers. I’m a former black widow assassin isn’t the kind of phrase that just rolls off the tongue. Especially not in front of him. 

The devil of Hell’s Kitchen, someone that everyone here knows to fear, and yet he doesn’t...he doesn’t kill. If he knew all the blood that stains me, if he knew about all the red in my ledger...

“And I’m just reminding you that my one stipulation to this was no questions.”

I knew this was a bad idea. Even when we just happen to run into each other he expresses too much interest in who I am. Why I can do the things I can do. I know that he feels like he’s protecting his neighborhood by making sure that I don’t have any ill tensions. The false sense of security is a good thing, it means that we can both co-exist in peace. But tonight I’m not in the mood to play coy and skirt around the words I won’t say, revealing just enough to appease him. I’m also not in the mood to draw a line in the sand and make him think I’m a threat. There’s no doubt in my mind that if need be, I could take him. He’d be a worthy opponent, but not an unbeatable one. But maybe I don’t want to beat him. Maybe I don’t want to fight anymore. Maybe I just want to put my widow suit on the top shelf of my apartment’s closet and never look at it again. 

We should part ways. The bad guys have been taken care of. The girls have been freed, the way I could have been years ago. There’s no reason for both of us to still be here. There’s no reason fro him to be less than an arm’s length away. And yet, we both stay still. 

“You’re normally more open to friendly conversation.” The words snap me back to reality. I’ve been playing too close to a line I can’t cross. The last time I trusted someone, I learned to never do risk that again.

I force my hands to ease at my side. “We’re friends now?”

“I don’t take down human trafficking rings with just anyone.” He’s joking. He’s just trying to ease me into our normal dynamic. But the words still strike me in the heart. Memories of the day I got Natasha back and the day I stopped seeing Yelena as my protector wash through me, a torrid, unforgiving current. 

It’s been years now. Years of silence. I haven’t seen Nat since she told me what she was planning to do with the Avengers. I haven’t seen Yelena since she told me the truth of the day I became a true widow. The end of the red room was the first and last familial moment I got. “For the record, neither do I.” 

“And I’ve never taken anything down that fast.” He pauses, testing the waters. “If you were always around, I’d have time to pick up a hobby.”

He’s trying to appeal to my usual attitude. I have to give him something. It’s not his fault that the memories are hitting me more frequently than usual. And if I don’t seem at least somewhat stable, he’ll start thinking I’m planning something. He may start seeing me as some kind of threat. “Is the mysterious day job followed by nights of crime fighting not fulfilling enough?”

“The day job isn’t as interesting as you’re making it seem to be.” There’s an easiness to his words. He’s taking my attempt to act normal.

I shift on my heels, almost relaxing. “I wouldn’t know because you won’t tell me what it is.” 

“And you won’t tell me how you learned to...be so efficient.” He’s referencing the way I fight. I can’t blame him for pressing this issue so much. A random girl shows up in his city, his neighborhood, with brutal skills and strength that would better suit someone twice her size. Of course he feels the need to ask questions. 

I inhale, wondering what my next move is. I could remind him that the less we know about the other, the better. That I know not to ask questions as long as he does the same. But the thing is, I don’t want to. Maybe it’s because he’s faceless. Maybe it’s because when I wear this suit I don’t feel like I’m me anymore. Or maybe it’s because I’m tired of pretending my past is tearing into me more and more with each passing day. 

“Would you believe me if I told you it’s a family thing?” The honesty threatens to leave my throat raw. I’m treading on a dangerous line. “That I learned everything I know from my sisters?” 

He tilts his head slightly, exposing the side of his jaw--which is something I shouldn’t be as aware of as I am. “So an entire family of people like you? Fighting for the good?” 

I don’t have it in me to think about the wya he says that. The words are stomach twisting enough. Fighting for the good. Is that even a fair thing to say now? Natasha certainly started fighting for the good. I don’t know where Yelena is. And I--I’m just trying to make up for everything I’ve done, everything I’ve been forced to do. 

“What if we weren’t always doing that?” My throat burns, the way it often did when I would tell Natasha about the memories. When I would tell her about being a ghost in my own body. “Fighting for the good?”

I regret the words as soon as they’re out of my mouth. Dropping my head, I prepare to step back. To disappear in the shadows in the way I’m used to. He starts to move. To his credit, he’s faster than a normal person, so he does manage to place a hand on my shoulder, but not before my fingers wrap around his wrist. It’s his move next. I’m tense, expecting some kind of attack. 

“I would say that you’re doing that now.” I watch him, he stays quiet. When nothing else is said...when nothing else is done, I find it in me to unclench my fingers and let my hand fall to my side. He still doesn’t move. “And that counts for something.” 

omg i loveeee the great too 🥺🥺🥺 that show is sooooo underrated seriously. so excited to see what you come up with

it's such a good show!! even though it's definitely a comedy it doesn't feel cheesy and i'm still invested in the emotional state of the characters which is something i feel like is pretty rare!! thanks for the support :)) i'm working on something for it and i'm very excited for it :))

im writing chapter two to ‘it’s different now’ rn and let me tell you the happy scenes hurt so much bc i know what’s going to happen😭 im as mean as marvel at this point

48 hours - chapter one

a/n im almost done with my matt x ex black widow! fic, and i really wanted to have it done before my friends come visit for NYE but im not sure it'll happen and i really wanted to give you guys something before i disappear for my tiny reunion bc yall have been so supportive with the BW fic so here's a very mini series idea that came to me...

i wanted to write this bc this idea has been so soft in my head for the past couple of days and ive been binging jane the virgin again so im all over the ‘even when im pissed off, i’m going to show up bc that’s what family does’ trope bc it fits so well with matt bc of all the secrets he keeps lmaoo

also the timeline for the actual show was not my priority in making this and you can kinda tell lol so pls don’t dwell on the details on who knows matt’s identity and other stuff

summary: After finding out that Matt Murdock, the lawyer you’ve been working closely with and befriended faster than you thought possible, is actually Daredevil, you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to trust him again. But that doesn’t mean you have the heart to leave him to face his demons on his own. So you agree to stay around for 48 hours, because that’s the only way to assure that he won’t do something stupid (which is extortion if you think about it, but what are you going to do) Too bad the main problem with being alone with him is that it makes ignoring those budding feelings you’d been fighting against that much harder to ignore.

trigger warnings: i cant write someone being mad without sounding kinda annoying bc i only know how to be petty lmao, emotional dependency (not the healthiest relationship take lowkey lol but it gets resolved by the end of the mini-series, i promise), matt lowkey being toxic 😳but that one's on me (it gets fixed and kinda justified lol it just doesn't look great without the context that you get at the end of the mini-series)

----

Foggy and Karen left. Either my (not so) subtle jabs and dirty looks were too much or they came to the conclusion that the only person that should and could deal with the real fall out of what happened a few hours ago was Matt. What made them think it was a good idea to let such an injured man face the blunt of my anger, I have no idea. I guess it has to do with the fact that apparently Matt can take a lot more than he’s been letting on.

He’s still slumped on the couch, body wilted in on itself, broken and bruised. A strange combination of guilt and fury twist in me. I want to help him; I want to pick up the stupid vase on his ottoman and throw it at his head. How could I have been so stupid?

Matt shifts, a soft groan falling from his lips. Great, he’s awake. That’s part of the reason everyone left so quickly...they knew that I’d have stormed out of Matt’s apartment if anyone else was there to make sure that he didn’t bleed out to death on his couch. A very unlikely thing, but my conscience wouldn’t let me walk away until I saw him awake.

And now I’ve seen him awake, so there’s no point in still being here. He’s silent, and his face is turned away from me, so I can’t see if his eyes are open, but I know that he’s awake. Which apparently means he knows I’m standing here.

“I know you’re awake,” I mumble, “and that that means you know I’m here.” I scoff, crossing my arms in front of me. “Apparently.”

He twists his body against the couch. His movements are rigid, pained. I want to move. I want to help him, but all of my energy is going into staying together and not succumbing to the strangled feeling in my throat.

It’s choking me. The feeling of shock, of worry, of anger, and of--of betrayal. All of those sentiments swirl in my chest, pulsing through my body at a rate that’s nauseating.

And now he’s just staring at me--wide, brown eyes swirling with emotions I don’t understand. Emotions I don’t want to understand, because if I let myself think about it, about how alone he must feel right now, I’ll push aside everything I’m feeling.

He’s not a villain for this. He doesn’t owe you anything. The rational part of me reflects on these thoughts as he blinks at me, waiting for some kind of response. He’s in pain, that much is clear, and just standing here goes against all of my instincts. I’ve never seen him this broken before, but I guess I apparently have. I’ve helped Daredevil--I, I cleaned deep wounds for him at least three times, and I’ve aided Matt Murdock more than I can count. But apparently all of that was unnecessary.

“Can you tell what I’m thinking too or do you still need me to say that out loud?”

The corners of his mouth pull down, he’s practically wincing. “I can’t--I’ve never been able to read minds. Being able to hear someone’s breathing patterns isn’t exactly telepathy.”

I grind my teeth together. “You’re not actually trying to be funny right now.” He can’t brush this aside, smooth over this revelation with his soft little half smiles and heart torn eyes. “Because I’m not even sure if you’re actually blind or if that’s all a cover so that people don’t know that you’re--”

“I’m blind.” He moves like he wants to sit up, but the motion is never completed. Matt cuts himself off with a wince. My nails dig into my palms to stop myself from rushing towards him. “I can’t see the way other people see, but I can--there are things I sense, things I hear, things I smell.” He swallows once. “And I--I don’t tell people, obviously. But I--I’ll tell you everything, if you’ll listen, I’ll--”

“Don’t waste your breath.” I mean it, I mean it with my entire chest and a small part of me hates myself for it. And I--I resent him for making me feel this way about him. “I won’t believe any of it anyways, and to be honest, I don’t see the point in talking when I don’t even know who I’m talking to.” My voice almost wavers, his eyes turn into even deeper vats of emotion. Don’t look at them. Don’t fall for it. “So Matt Murdock, good guy lawyer, or the illusive Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, or whoever the hell you are--goodbye.”

The last word hurts the most. It’s an ending without a conclusion. A sore wound destined to never heal. I swallow the grief that lumps in my throat as I turn towards the door to his apartment.

“L/n.” My name is tired but not soft. Keep walking. I hear him shift against his couch, and once again the urge to help him is drowning me. He doesn’t need your help, if he’s capable of jumping over dumpsters and fighting crime bosses, he’s capable of walking in his own damn apartment. “Y--y/n, don’t go.” My nails dig even further into the palm of my skin. Go. “It’s not--this isn’t about me, there are people that want to hurt you and I--I can’t protect you right now.”

How hurt must he be for him to openly admit that he can’t do anything right now? My stomach knots. Stop caring. “Have you ever stopped for a second to consider that maybe I don’t want your protection? I’ve lived most of my life without you, placing myself in risky situations for my career, and I’ve managed. So just--stay here, try not to get anything infected, and leave me alone.”

“The people that you’ve written those articles about are nothing compared to the kinds of people I’m dealing with. And they’re going to go after you.”

The seriousness of his tone is enough to make me hesitate. I’m furious at him, but it’s not like I can dismiss facts. “What--what makes you think they’d go after me?”

He hesitates, expression still mortally wounded in a way that makes me desperate to comfort him. “They’ve seen you with me.”

“You mean they’ve seen me with your vigilante alter ego.” He’s silent, I cross my arms over my chest. “Who I’ve--cleaned wounds for and-and talked to about personal things, and the entire time it was actually you. And you let me come into the office the next day and you--you knew what I was thinking, what I had gone through the night before, and you didn’t--” This is such a stupid thing to dwell on. “And--and Foggy knew, and Karen knew, and--you all knew and you let me be such an idiot!” I clamp my mouth shut after those words. There it is, for both of us to see--the deepest part of my emotional wound.

Matt stills for a moment, and then all of his strength goes into him shifting into a sitting position. His expression remains hard, pained. I push down the instinct to do something, anything. “L/n.” I should run out of here. I should have run out of here the moment I realized he was still alive and my conscience was made clear by the fact that I didn’t let him bleed out on his couch. “That’s what this is about.”

“No, this is about the fact that you’re an untrustworthy liar that made me feel like I was going crazy.” My stomach knots, but its too late to back down. “And also, maybe, a little bit about the fact that I finally felt like I found people. My people, good people that I could trust.”

“You did. You have.” I scoff. “We just wanted to protect you.” The pleading behind his eyes is unbearable. “I just wanted to protect you, and I made them keep it from you.”

“You know my entire life I’ve always felt like I’ve cared more about other people than they do about me. I’ve had so many people use me for stories or my--my family, and I thought I finally found something more than that.” My voice is shaking, and I’m torn between running out of his apartment and punching him in the stomach or something else stupid and petty. “And you took that from me--and that--that really sucks.”

“I know.” He has no defense. There is no defense.

My shoulders fall. “I have an article due tomorrow night, so...” Not the ending I want, but maybe that’s for the best. I’m not in the headspace to get closure...nothing permanent will bring me peace right now. “I um--I don’t think I’ll be in the office tomorrow.”

He shifts again, with a little more force. I think he’s trying to stand. Don’t help. “L/n.” My last name again, what he’s called me most since the day I first met him. It no longer makes my stomach flutter the way it once did. Or, I guess it still kind of does, but these butterflies are different...these hurt. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Have a totally normal reaction to realizing that every important person in my life has been lying to me?” I shake my head, the irony of it all making me want to laugh. “You know I thought the biggest lie I’d have to deal with this year is finding out about all the criminal things my dad had been doing and the origin of our family money. But no, the biggest lie has to do with my dad’s enemy who happens--”

“It wasn’t like that. You know it wasn’t like that.” A lie is a lie. It doesn’t matter. “Your father lied to manipulate you into thinking he changed, I kept a secret so that you’d be safe.”

Whatever. It doesn’t matter. “I won’t be in tomorrow,” I repeat, voice a little more settled. Resigned. I wish I could say I never want to see him again. I wish I could feel like that--like I have the strength to not care about what happens to him. “If you could um--if you could text me or get someone to text me every day or every other day?” My face burns. I wipe my face with the back of my palm. “I don’t think I’ll text back, but I’ll be able to sleep, and I don’t know what you owe me, but I think it’s at least that much.”

I reach for the front door, finally pulling it open. The air in the hall feels a lot colder than it did before. Some sound I can’t name forces me to stop. It’s--it’s broken. I turn around despite myself...he’s...I think he’s crying, but there’s something more to the sound than tears. Something desperate and breathy. Is he hyperventilating?

“Matt?” My voice is smaller than I wanted it to be and my hand has yet to let go of the door to his apartment.

I turn on my heels, nervously looking behind me. He’s slumped forward, his back hunched in a way that makes it impossible to see his face. Is he--no, walk away. You don’t care. I will myself to move, to remember all the lying and the confusion I felt and...screw it, who am I kidding? I give into my instincts, rushing to his side on the couch.

My hand is on his shoulder before I can stop myself. “H-hey, you’re okay.”

He shakes his head. I catch more of the bruises on the left side of his face than I had before. Pity pulses through me. “Don’t go.” Now his voice is small. Smaller than I’ve ever heard it be. “Don’t--I don’t know what--”

“Matt...” Okay, I don’t have to be vindictive about the whole walking out on him thing right now. There will be plenty of time to be angry with him later, once he’s more stable and--and better. “This isn’t fair.” He says nothing, still too lost in his crisis. “You really hurt me, and I’m allowed to be mad at you. I should be able to be mad without feeling guilty.” I run my hand up and down his arm as gently as possible. He exhales lightly at the extended contact. I bite my tongue to avoid losing anymore self control. “I’m going to go, and you’re going to be okay.”

My fingers slowly detach themselves from him. I pull away with a patience I don’t feel. I move to stand, but at the last second his hand latches onto my arm. “Don’t go, I--I know what they’re planning.”

“Planning?”

He winces when I pull away from his touch. “They’re going to go after you because of me.” The guilt in his voice is another knife in my stomach. “You know it’s true.” My breath catches in my chest. Matt must sense it, or hear it, or whatever he does, because he shifts again. When he grabs my forearm, I let him. “Be as mad as you want, but be mad here.”

I swallow once, forcing my back to straighten. A clean, healthy break. We need it. “Matt--”

He moves again, his fingers tactfully pressing into my skin. “I need you.” The words hang there, as heavy as my heart. “And that’s not--that’s not something that I can just say.”

Oh my god...Okay, I have to get out of here. Now or never. Just stand up, just--ugh. Who the hell am I kidding? “You know you’re really good at laying on the guilt when you want to.”

“One of the many benefits of being a devoted Catholic.”

If things were any better, I’d laugh. But they’re not. “I um-I really appreciate what you said, I know that that’s not easy for you.”

His eyes are doing that terribly compelling, kicked puppy thing. How can I want to be away from him as badly as I want to be near him? He moves his hand slowly, cautiously. I let him intertwine our fingers. Matt drops his head slightly, lifting our joined hands to his forehead. I sigh, ignoring the sentiments that bubble in my chest. Okay, two minutes, I can sit here for two minutes--that won’t kill anyone. Probably.

He moves my hand again. I let him until I feel the brush of his lips against the back of my palm. Even before I was this angry, I was wary of soft gestures like that. “What are--” No, don’t ask what he’s doing, just make sure he stops it. “What you’re doing isn’t healthy and it’s not going to work.” I mean it--or at least, I want to mean it with every fiber of my being. “I can’t trust you anymore and that hurts and I--I need time to deal with that. Alone. And there’s nothing you can do or say to change that, to change what you did.”

Matt’s silence is not safe. It doesn’t feel like acceptance because that would be too easy. He’s plotting, he has to be. “Are you sure?” What kind of question is that? “I’ll do anything.” I stay still, ignoring the nerves swelling in my chest. “I’ll do anything you want, l/n. Just--just don’t go.”

I press my lips together into a hard line. His stupid, soft eyes and messy hair...and the-the needy look behind his eyes. I’m only human. I have weaknesses. Okay--I’ve hit my limit, if I don’t get out now, I may never follow through. “What I want is to feel like I can trust you.” I pull my hand away, creating the distance between us that I need to be capable of rational thought. “And to feel like you’re not going to do something stupid while all those ribs are still broken and your lung is partially collapsed or...”

“Okay.” His voice is so assured, so certain, my panic stalls.

“What do you mean okay?”

He still looks like a rejected puppy. “Stay and--and I’ll take the night off. I’ll focus on meditating and I’ll answer all of your questions if you want to ask, and--”

Is he really using the fact that I don’t want him hunting down dangerous criminals while he’s half dead to his advantage? “Are you seriously trying to extort me right now?” I sigh, anger and dread spiking in me all over again. “And--and meditating? What does that have to do with anything?”

“I heal faster when I meditate.”

Uneasy laughter cuts through me. The sound must be more nervous than I thought because Matt stalls. “I’m sorry--you heal faster when you meditate? Why did you never call Tony Stark? You have enough going on to be a freaking Avenger or something.”

His expression makes it clear that he doesn’t know whether or not I’m actually snapping. “It’d get in the way of the day job.”

“Right, the ever important separate worlds thing. That’s why you kept me around, right?” I scratch the back of my arm, discomfort settling in my stomach. “Everyone in your circle knew the truth and you wanted to feel normal and you met me and could tell how much I wanted to belong somewhere and--”

“No,” he tries to sit up further, but his body is too tired, “it wasn’t like that at all. You know that.”

“Do I?” I sit up a little straighter. “What um--what was real and what was fake?” My eyes focus on the wall in front of him. “About us, I mean, because I--I really cared about—I still care about you because I’m still sitting on this couch even though I should have left the second I was sure you weren’t going to bleed out.”

“All of it.”

“Even when you were comforting me over my father? Or were you just trying to get the information you needed to stop him?”

He frowns. “Y/n--”

“Forget it.” I wipe my hands on my jeans. “It doesn’t matter now.”

“It does.”

I shake my head once even though he can’t see it. “So you think people are after me?”

Matt hesitates. “...I know they are.”

His tone is clear--he’s not going to give me any details on how he’s so sure that I’m in danger. “And if--if I stay you’re not going to do anything stupid until you’re better?”

“I think Hell’s Kitchen will survive a night without me.”

Oh--he’s insane. I blink twice, shocked at how one person can be so deluded. “A night? No--I saw how much blood you lost.” He opens his mouth to protest, but he’s gotten his way enough today. “And keep in mind how angry I am and what you’re asking of me. You need a full recovery.”

“I’ll be honest about how I’m feeling in the morning.”

He is in no position to negotiate. “The only person in any position to make arguments here is me, and I saw you throw up blood, and--and Foggy had to say a lot to keep me from dragging your ass to a hospital.” I should have just left him outside of an ER. “72 hours--that’s standard for—“

“You don’t know what I need--”

“No, but I know that our entire friendship was based on lies.”

Now it’s his turn to press his lips together. “It wasn’t.”

“Tell that to my father, who you got arrested with information that you got from me when I thought you were just my friend.”  I fold my hands on my lap. “You know I would have helped you if you had just told me the truth.”

Maybe my voice sounds just small enough to appeal to the part of him that’s decent enough to feel bad about all the lying. “48 hours. I’ll stay if you stay.”

I wipe my face with the palm of my hand, inhaling sharply in an attempt to clear my thoughts. Two days with him is the last thing I want right now. “Fine.” This doesn’t mean anything...he’s feeling panicky now, but that will pass, and then I’ll be able to walk away and deal with my own hurt. “But I’m not going to be nice to you, and I’m only doing it so that I don’t have to end up writing a news article about a dead body in a devil’s suit found in a dumpster.”

His expression is still tinged by that sad, innocent look. “The people here need me in that suit, I’m not going to apologize for that.”

“And I needed you.” Great, this is a level of vulnerability I didn’t want to reach here. “I needed you as a friend, as someone I trusted.” I grip the arm of his couch as I force myself to stand. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

These next 48 hours are going to be so much fun.

----

if youre interested in part 2 lmk :)) and if this is really bad bc i wrote this while very tired i am sorry!! im still getting used to writing matt and even though i love him very much im still working on his voice :)

she's hereeee

update

hey besties,, i hate to say this to you but my comeback to this blog is going to be a spiderman fic lol,, i just watched NWH and ive loved spiderman since i was a child,, and i have this idea that im going to summarize below the cut bc it contains spoilers for Spiderman: No Way Home

 (SPOILER WARNING–legit, serious spoilers for Spider-Man: No Way Home below the cut) 

Keep reading

i would love to be tagged in your full bw x matt fic thingy if that’s ok;)

100 percent would be okay:)) i cant remember the last time a fic took so much time lol so i really hope you like it :))