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sunflowersandsapphires · 2 months

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Heaven Help the Fool

Of Oak and Ivy, Chapter 5

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

summary: In college, Matt Murdock had two best friends, Foggy Nelson and you. However, life had no intention of letting you graduate with him. When he reconnects with you in adulthood, he is troubled to see the hand God has dealt you and vows to use every tool at his disposal to save you from damnation.

warnings: swearing, angsty matthew, hints of matt's jealousy, cuddling? idk this one is relatively tame (especially compared to Ch 4)

a/n: This chapter is pure sugary fluff. I ended up cutting this chapter in half because it was approaching 10k. This is the 1st half :) I hope you enjoy!! Thank you to @madschiavelique for helping me rewrite this multiple times!

Side note: I will probably wait a month or so before updating this again. I'm trying to get 5-7 chapters written so that I can post biweekly for the rest of the year to keep y'all fed!

w/c: 4.2k

Despite the brief hiccup in your friendship–courtesy of one douchebag boyfriend–you, Matt, and Foggy had been getting along swimmingly recently; so well, in fact, that Foggy would only refer to you as “The Three Musketeers”, complete with embarrassingly clumsy fake sword swishing, of course. The thought of the two of you air-fencing as you giggled to each other never failed to make him smile.

By some miracle, the conversation he’d initiated with you about your growing distance had actually gone well and sparked a positive change. You’d apologized profusely, asking a number of questions, about how Matt was feeling and why, to guarantee your understanding. And, thankfully, he’d been able to answer them without exposing his feelings for you. In the end, you’d promised to return to your original schedule of study sessions, as well as give Matt and Foggy notice if you would need to cancel. Nothing outrageous, just being more mindful about communication and the time you were spending with your friends.

Unfortunately for Matt, and Foggy who was slowly stepping aboard the “Everett Sucks” train alongside his roommate, you’d also suggested that the two of them hang out with you and Everett in order to get to know him better. The idea was harmless, even adorable if you asked the love-sick part of Matt’s brain, but the outcome was hellish.

About a week ago, Matt and Foggy had accompanied you and Everett to a haunted house–listening to the macho third year “protect” you from strobe lights and masked actors despite you not being all that scared. Though he had brought a date himself, Matt had barely even smiled at the poor girl, preoccupied with Everett’s fingers brushing over a patch of exposed skin on your waist at every opportunity. Clearly, he hadn’t been inconspicuous about his attention being elsewhere, given that the night had ended with him getting a face full of hot chocolate from his snubbed date. The sticky droplets soaking into his clothes were nothing compared to the irritation he felt when Everett slapped him on the back—shaking his head as he imparted his wisdom to the first year. “Sorry man. Girls will be girls.”

Then, of course, there’d been last night. The three of you had attended a halloween party at Everett’s place, and the guy had refused to walk you home even though it was cold, dark, and dangerous considering how tipsy you'd been. If Matt and Foggy hadn't been there, who knows what harm could have befallen you? Even before that, Matt had been clenching his fists all night, hearing Everett blabber over you and swat your hands away in front of his peers, claiming he wasn’t in the mood to hold you. If Matt was in his place, he’d–

No. These were the exact thought patterns he needed to avoid to prevent another…mistake like the night at Fogwell’s. He'd been doing a decent job not falling down the same rabbit holes–that would all be for nothing if he started fantasizing again now.

But how could he not? You were so thoughtful, and intelligent, and adorable, and goddamn magnetic. Every action you took reeled him further into the treacherous web he was trapped in–unwittingly intoxicating him with your kindness. You were unlike anyone he’d ever met, that fact had only been highlighted since he’d embarrassed himself at Clinton Church.

Shuddering against a gust of wind, Matt continued his brisk pace down the sidewalk as his fingers grew numb around his cane. He was quickly regretting his decision to leave his jacket behind. Hopefully, the bookstore was willing to shell out the extra bucks for a decent amount of heat and he wouldn’t find you as a popsicle when he took shelter.

Huffing out an irritated breath, Matt rounded the corner towards your place of work. It had become almost a habit for him to accompany you during your shifts, keeping you company and working through assignments together. Honestly, it was the best part of his day.

Matt frowned as he closed in on the bookstore. He was having a difficult time hearing your heartbeat, which was usually pattering away, steady as rain, a few feet from the entrance of the store. As he pushed open the glass door, he could finally make out a steady thump accompanied by your familiar scent in the far corner of the shop.

The constant smell of ink and stale paper, now mingling with the slightly acrid smell of dust burning in the vents, stuck in his nostrils—as it always did when he arrived here. It was comforting, in a way, reminiscent of both you and the library at the orphanage, where he’d spent much of his freetime as a child.

Smiling to himself as he approached you, he folded up his cane and let his body relax in the warm bubble of generated heat. You were asleep, curled up around whatever project you’d been working on like a cat on a sunlit patch of carpet. Settling on the floor beside you, Matt propped himself up against a bookshelf before unzipping his backpack as silently as he could. It wasn’t the most organized set up to work with, laying his textbook on the floor and holding his computer in his lap, but after the late night you’d had, there was no doubt you needed the rest.

Body twisting in sudden discomfort, you whimpered beside him, unwinding from your bent shape and towards his body. Readjusting so that your nose was pressed against his thigh, you sighed, brow unfurrowing. Even unconscious, you appreciated his presence.

The denim of his jeans couldn’t have been comfortable for the delicate skin of your nose, but he was hesitant to move an inch if it meant waking you. Besides, the small pinpoint of heat against his thigh was rather pleasant.

Listening to your slumbering breaths, Matt was reminded of his childhood meditation sessions–the sound acting as a barrier between him and the rest of the world, clearing his mind without any effort on his end. He matched his breathing to yours, heart rate slowing to mirror yours as he ran his fingers along the lines of braille in his textbook.

As Matt worked his way through two separate reading assignments, you slept peacefully, nuzzling into his leg every so often with a soft puff of an exhale. It felt like Matt had only spent mere seconds in this unintentional paradise when you began to stir.

With a stuttering breath, you stretched, the sound of your muscles tightening akin to plucking a guitar string rapidly. As you regained awareness, Matt could hear the spike in your pulse–you must have noticed him, then.

“Morning, bug.” He murmured. On a whim, he ran a hand over your shoulder gently, not wanting you to feel unwelcome or embarrassed for lingering in his personal space. “Have a good nap?”

Beneath his palm, you relaxed, your lashes fluttering as you hummed appreciatively. “Hi. Sorry for using you as a pillow.”

“No apology necessary. You ok?” He squeezed your shoulder as you sat up, pulling at your clothes to unfurl the wrinkles from them.

“Yah, just tired after last night.” You laughed, but the sound was a step too high in pitch to be genuine.

“Ugh, I feel you. I think both Foggy and I spent more time in the bathroom than in our beds last night.” Matt chuckled, trying to quiet the devil inside him with a reminder that you’d come to him if something was actually wrong.

Grimacing, you knocked your shoulder against his. “God, Murdock–” You giggled, pressing a palm to your stomach. “My hangover is much too present for that image. Warn a girl next time.”

Shooting you a bashful smile, he nodded dutifully. “Sorry.”

“It’s ok, trouble. No harm done. Well, not much.” With a heavy sigh, you rubbed at your eyes, leaning to grab something that had slid beneath the bookshelf Matt was seated against. “Damn, this manual must have been more boring than I originally thought. It knocked me right out.”

“Learning astrophysics on the side?” Matt jested, smirking at you.

“Oh yah. Astronaut is my backup career.” You laughed, the sound beautiful, and real, this time around. “No, um, setting up a new printer, actually.”

Confusion pooled in Matt’s stomach, for some reason you were embarrassed by the machine behind you, if the heat flooding your cheeks was any indication.

“Oh, did the old one break?” He asked, tilting his head.

“Er,” You paused, looking between him and the plastic box beside you. “No, well not yet, but…just promise me you won't be mad. Well, you’re entitled to anger, I guess, because I may have overstepped?”

Thoroughly bewildered now, Matt swiveled his chin so that his attention could focus on your general area. “Overstepped how?”

“I sort of badgered my boss into buying a braille printer?” The sentence was phrased as a question, but the thing was there, beside you. It's existence evidence that you had definitively obtained one.

Matt was silent for a moment, processing the new information. It suddenly felt like he had swallowed a golf ball. He could barely make out the pounding of your heart over the blood rushing in his own ears. “Um...”

“Shit, Matt, I'm sorry. I should have asked you before I did it. I meant to, I just—” Your nervous ramble was punctuating with small wisps of heat emanating from your gesturing hands.

“Sweetheart,“ He interrupted, snatching one of your dancing hands out of mid air and holding it delicately. ”Please breathe. I'm not angry with you.“

”Oh thank god.“ Your body slammed into his, nearly bowling him over, as you tackled him with a hug. Your nose was chilled as it bobbed up and down the skin of his neck. ”I don't know what I'd do if you were mad at me. I care about you a hell of a lot, trouble.“ Your lips tickled his throat, breath ghosting over his shoulder as you murmured.

”I care about you too, sweetheart.“ His voice was strained, his thoughts consumed with surprise and adoration. He didn't deserve you.

”Hey, don't say that!“ Shit, he must have said that out loud. ”Of course you deserve me, Matt. And you deserve Foggy, and anyone else who you enjoy being around. You're a good person, Matt. You deserve happiness.“ You spoke firmly, not leaving room for his internal doubt.

Constricting your arms, it seemed like you were trying to meld your body with his. One of his hands pressed into the grimy carpet as he held the two of you up, the other rested around your shoulders, his thumb rubbing circles into the fabric of your shirt.

”Shut up.“ He muttered, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he turned his focus to the rough threads of the stiff carpeting beneath his hand.

”Never.“ You giggled meekly, squishing him to your body one final time before releasing your grip. ”Now I should probably get back to building this printer, if you ever want to be able to use it.“

”Did you want a hand?“ He offered, sniffling discreetly.

”I'd love one! Will you read me these while I reorganize? I got to step 7 already.“ Handing him the packet of braille instructions out of the manual, Matt skimmed the bumps until he found the proper section.

”You attached the paper tray?“ He asked, waiting for you to confirm before reading the next step aloud.

A few days after painstakingly building a new printer together, you found yourself sprinting for the door to Matt’s building, which was rapidly closing and just out of your reach; you stifled a victory squeal when you were able to step into the threshold of the dorm before the door locked on you. Now you wouldn’t have to ask Matt to let you in the building, and that was pretty fortunate given how on edge the poor kid seemed already this morning.

You tended to rise early, given your rigid schedule of classes and work shifts, preferring to start your day just after the sun rose and have as much time to accomplish things as possible. Matt wasn't as much of an early bird as you were, but he tended to wake up before 9am on weekends, while his blond roommate would sleep well past noon if he had the option. Because of your similar schedules, you weren't surprised that Matt had called you; you were surprised, however, that he sounded so miserable before 9am on a Friday.

The conversation hadn't been long, just Matt asking if you'd like to come over and a small warning that he'd ”woken up on the wrong side of the bed“, but you weren't phased. While the handsome law student tended to be on the more reserved and sarcastic side, he was rarely noticeably irritated—tending to play it off with quips to keep his cool around anyone he didn't know too well. There had been a handful of days where you had witnessed his anger slipping through the metaphorical mask that he wore, but he never aimed it at you. Every once and a while, his tone would get a bit snappish, but it never went further than that, and you trusted him to keep his wits intact when he was upset.

So you came quickly with hot breakfast as a peace offering to provide the help he'd asked for, in his own non-descriptive way. Taking the cement steps two at a time, and deftly avoiding the perpetually damp spots on the landing (ew), you were able to make it from your place and to Matt's door in under 30 minutes.

Raising a fist to knock on the thick door, you jumped in surprise—nearly spilling the coffees—when Matt yanked the door open before your knuckles had even skimmed the surface.

”Christ, Matt!“ You squeaked, shaking off the residual adrenaline as he beckoned you inside and shut the door behind you.

If he hadn't already informed you that he was feeling out of it, his lack of opaque lenses would've immediately alerted you of the fact. Matt was very averse to interacting with people without his glasses covering his eyes, even when the only people around were you and Foggy. You'd never brought it up before, not wanting to add to his clear discomfort about the topic, but you assumed he was self-conscious of the way he looked without them.

Regardless, seeing his hazel eyes darting ambiguously around you made you catch your breath. You'd only caught glimpses in the past, but uncovered? They were stunning. The brown of his irises was flecked with green and the reflection of sunlight made them look like pools of honey.

Hearing your choked inhale, a peach-colored blush bloomed across Matt's cheeks. “Shit, hold on, let me find my glasses. I set them down last night and I—” Pacing around you, Matt began to frantically rummage around on his bed, where he'd dumped a pile of what looked to be most, if not all, of his belongings. “They're here somewhere, I know it.“

Setting the paper cups on Foggy's nightstand, you walked a wide arc around the anxious boy as if he were a startled animal, gently laying your hand on his wrist. ”Matt,“

Looking up dolefully, Matt's eyes were glassy as he rambled. ”I'm sorry. I misplaced them. I should've warned you—“

”Matty, stop for a minute please.“ You encouraged, waiting for the boy to pause and take a breath before you continued. ”You don't need to wear your glasses around me, trouble. I'm sorry if I seemed thrown off, I was admiring your eyes.“

”You were...admiring them?“ Matt's voice broke around the question and your heart squeezed.

”Yah, Matty, you have beautiful eyes. I've never seen them up close before.“ Taking his hands, you ran a thumb over his knuckles as he processed your words.

After a minute of silence, you tugged him towards his desk chair. “Why don't we sit for a minute and have breakfast before sorting through your stuff.”

Letting you maneuver him into the threadbare seat, he tilted his head as you placed a paper bag and disposable cup on the desk next to him. “You brought me breakfast?”

Chuckling at his genuine confusion, you nodded. “I did. It would help me feel better if I 'woke up on the wrong side of the bed', so I figured it couldn't hurt. It's just a muffin and a latte from Blue Java, nothing special.“

Matt didn't say anything, his lips still pursed as he opened the bag and began unwrapping the pastry. After breaking off a few pieces to eat, his frown ebbed. ”Thank you.“

”Anytime! So, doing some reorganizing this weekend?“ You sipped your own coffee, trying not to laugh as he wolfed the rest of his muffin down.

”Something like that,“ Matt grumbled, tossing his balled up trash into the plastic bin across the room with ease. ”Our room was just, I don't know...gross, I guess? It needed to be cleaned and when I realized I couldn't find my glasses, I just freaked. I woke Foggy up, and neither of us could find them, so I started putting everything on the bed.“

Matt's lips quirked into a tiny smile. ”I think I scared him because he said he had to study and just disappeared. He's probably asleep in the library by now.“

You chuckled, picturing the blond passed out in the rows of old books. ”Well, his loss. I'm a hoot to clean with.“

”Is that so?“ Matt remarked, grinning fully now.

“Just you wait, Murdock. I have been told I am a fun AND efficient cleaning partner. Let's get this party started.” Standing up and brushing your hands together, you turned towards the items haphazardly stacked on Matt's bed. “How can I help?”

Retreating into his shell a bit, Matt scratched at his neck. “Um, are you sure you want to? I mean, Foggy isn't here to confirm, but I have a really specific method for organizing my belongings, and I would understand if you didn't want to be bossed around.”

“Matt, it's your stuff that we are straightening up. You're allowed to be bossy.” You assured, silently cursing everyone who had planted seeds of doubt in this wonderful man’s brain.

“Ok, just tell me if you want to leave.” Matt ordered. You mock saluted in response.

“Yes, sir!” You giggled as he shuddered with a scoff.

“You asked for it, sweetheart.”

The next several hours were spent sorting through the deceptively small pile on Matt's bed. Matt tasked you with sorting things into categories, which mostly meant separating clothes from school supplies, while he put things back in their designated areas. After finding his headphones tangled, one of his binders broken, and still having no clue where his glasses were, Matt was sliding back to the edge of his rope.

His jaw tensed as he grit his teeth, running his fingers along the sleeves of the sweater he was trying to fold in an attempt to straighten them. Growling in frustration he tossed the sweater back onto the bed and ran a hand over his face.

“C'mere, trouble.” You extended your arms to him and he gratefully collapsed against you. Rubbing small circles into his tight shoulders, you felt a burst of pride as he relaxed against you. “You getting fed up again?”

Matt nodded, face still buried against your neck. You frowned understandingly, untangling the tousled hair along his nape. “Hmmm, I guess we could take a break, what do you think?”

Matt whined, tugging your hips toward his bed.

Laughing at his reaction, you scratched at his scalp. “Ok, Matty. Why don’t we stop for a bit, then? Sound good?”

“Mmmhmm.” Matt murmured, legs turning to jelly as you massaged his pounding head.

Using one hand to shove aside the remaining items on his bed, you crawled up to the headboard and positioned yourself against the wall, letting Matt cuddle up to your side.

You immediately ran a hand back up to his nape, resuming the rhythmic touches that you knew would calm him down. Matt shuddered, rubbing his face into your shoulder as he stifled a yawn. Chuckling at his oddly adorable actions, you wondered if he’d slept at all last night. “You tired, bubs?” You asked softly, grinning knowingly at his affirmative groan.

“Go to sleep, bubba. I don’t mind.”

He must’ve been exhausted because his mouth stayed closed, though you had fully expected an argument. After a few minutes of deep breathing, his body began to slacken against your side. Pressing a kiss to his forehead, you adjusted the covers as best you could, given that they were covered in a couple dozen pounds of stuff, and tucked him in. And, with Matt dozing at your side, you continued sorting through the pile spilling across your lap.

Matt didn’t dream much. Occasionally, he’d have a nightmare; his body experiencing phantom sensations like being hit or feeling someone’s pulse slowly fade, but that was the extent—until he’d met you. It was like you knew you had a direct line to his brain. Your soft touches lingered for hours after the contact ended, his frayed nerves still firing rapidly, replaying the feeling of your fingers in his hair, your lips on his forehead.

He wasn’t meant to feel the kiss. Not that it meant anything more than platonic affection—he was fairly certain it didn’t—but that didn’t mean it didn’t electrocute every cell in his body, vaporizing the immense heap of irritation that had been building since he’d started his day off so poorly.

You had that power over him. Haunting his every waking moment and chasing his subconscious while he slept. You were his constant.

Wedged against you and his headboard, he felt safe, and fatigue had quickly overtaken him. He slept more peacefully than he had in weeks because of you, though the lack of Foggy’s sleep apnea definitely helped. Wading through a field of mental static, he rested, until your subtle movements beneath him popped his bubble of solace.

“Matt?” You murmured, stroking a finger along his cheek.

“Hngh?” He uttered, blearily. Was that a word? He was pretty sure that was a word.

It must not have been a word because you shook with a giggle. Rubbing his cheek with your thumb, he could hear you nibble on your lip. “I gotta leave, trouble. I’m sorry, I’m meeting Evs soon.”

The mention of your obnoxious paramour drew him fully out of slumber. He dug the heel of his hand into his eyes, rubbing the sleep from them. “Shit, I’m up.”

“I’m really sorry to wake you up. Did you sleep ok?” Your voice wobbled with guilt and he tried to give a convincing smile.

“Yah I did. Thank you for staying.”

“Of course! It’s almost 3:00 pm. I texted Foggy and asked him to bring you food, he’ll be here with it soon.” As you spoke, you slid off of his thin mattress, adjusting your clothes and hair.

“Crap. I didn't mean to hold you hostage.” Matt grumbled. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be! I enjoyed being your pillow.” You chuckled, but the statement held nothing but honesty, and that knowledge made his heart flutter. “I, um, I finished sorting your things. I didn’t put away anything unless I was certain of where it went, but…” You trailed off excitedly, snatching his hand from the mattress and placing a lightweight item in his semi-open palm.

“I found your glasses! They were behind your mattress, I almost missed them.”

Tracing the metal frames slowly, Matt choked on a breath. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Oh you don’t need to thank me, Matt. We take care of each other, remember?” Your smile was evident in your voice.

He stayed silent, far too concerned with preventing a voice crack to speak.

Realizing that you may have overwhelmed him, you hovered in front of the bed. “Sorry to throw all of that at you right after you woke up. Did you want me to show you where I put everything?”

“No,” He spoke raggedly. Clearing his throat, he started again. “No, I can figure it out. Thanks, sweetheart. For everything. Have fun on your date.”

Your heart stuttered as he mentioned your date. “Thank you, Matty. I will. Call me if you can’t find something?”

“I will, bubs.” With that final promise, he slid on his lenses and jumped out of bed to walk you out. Waving his final goodbye, he closed the door, falling against it as he gathered his thoughts.

Striding back to his bed, he let his fingers waltz over the meticulous stacks of his belongings. You’d straightened up his notebooks, folded his clothes, even arranged his textbooks in alphabetical order. All just because he’d been frustrated and asked for your help?

Running his fingers over the sweater at the top of the column of clothes, his throat constricted as wet trails formed down his cheeks. Pulling the garment to his face, he inhaled faint traces of your soap and natural fragrance, the scent embedded in the fabric. As the warmth from your body faded from his sheets, Matt crumpled to the floor, still clutching the woven sweater in his fist.

Thanks for reading!!!

Taglist: @eugene-emt-roe@abbyhaslongshorts@mrs-bellingham@abucketofweird@yeonalie@jadeunstablexx@spider-murdock@0ctober-writes@danzer8705

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sunflowersandsapphires · 4 months

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All This World Could Give Me

Of Oak and Ivy, Chapter 4

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

warnings: swearing, possessive/slightly pervy Matt (he’s 18 y’all, cut him some slack), implied sexual activity, non-graphic descriptions of masturbation, religious conversations and catholic imagery

I’m ignoring canon a bit here and pretending Matt and Lantom were already close. Sue me.

a/n: I know it's been too long since I posted for this WIP and this is the last chapter I have finished writing so I'm posting it an hour early. But I'm going to try really hard to update this one more consistently because I know it's a fan favorite. As always, comments and reblogs are much appreciated! They give me fuel to write.

w/c: 3.7k (Next chapter is much longer, I promise)

Matt had known you for 11 weeks. Less than 80 days in his life and his heart had practically carved you an altar, ready to worship a new God. His devotion to you was ardent—and it terrified him.

You deserved more than he could provide, that much was still true, but he couldn’t help the searing pain in his chest when you talked about your new boyfriend. Everett. Just mentioning his name sparked twin blooms of heat in your cheeks and waves of arousal to cloud around you. It was enough to make Matt nauseous.

A few weeks ago, your new beau had been no more than an unknown peer to the three of you, but it had taken him all of three days to coil around you like a serpent–prying you from Matt’s undying grasp. The two of you had met at Oscar’s homecoming house party and had apparently “totally hit it off”. Two days after that, you’d excitedly reconnected at a Civil Procedure study session that he’d spearheaded with your own TA. After an hour of flirty glances and pointed compliments bouncing between the pair of you, he’d offered to take you out for a late dinner. Stupidly, Matt had assumed you’d invite him and Foggy along, like you had when your last suitor had asked you out, but you’d bid a hasty goodbye to your friends before letting Everett escort you to his favorite diner.

In the 2 weeks since then, your friends had barely seen you. Dates with Everett had become so frequent that you’d been skipping or rescheduling your semi-weekly study sessions and miscellaneous hangouts were shorter than ever. Characteristically, Foggy had been much more understanding of the shift in your behavior.

“Cut her some slack, Murdock. This is her first adult relationship. She’s excited!” The blond reasoned, nudging Matt’s slumped shoulder with a knowing smirk.

“I don’t know, Fog. Something’s…off about him.”

Snorting, Foggy rolled his eyes. “The only thing ‘off’ about it is that our little jitterbug is dating him instead of you.” His accusation was only a murmur, but the sentiment still hit Matt like a truck.

Your involvement with someone should’ve been a blessing. An opportunity for him to get over his unrequited feelings and move on with his life without jeopardizing one of the two friendships he’d ever had. Still, he couldn’t shake the unease he felt around the guy. They’d only interacted once, when you’d introduced them during the study session, but one short conversation was all Matt’s conscience needed to condemn the man.

Though he was well aware that you preferred to show your love through kind words and soft touches, the sound of your pulse skipping when you'd entangled your hand with Everett’s continued to haunt him. Your intentions were as sweet as ever, but he couldn’t help but worry about your counterpart. His senses were bombarded with pheromones whenever he was around you, and the majority of them were not yours. It was like the guy knew exactly how to get under Matt’s skin and had taken to coating you in his cologne before allowing you out of his sight.

If it was possible, his mind was more occupied with thoughts of you than ever. Being in the same room with you was torturous, every molecule in his body buzzing with indignation at the thought that someone else had claimed you. Every mention of your relationship had him biting his tongue until it bled.

Amazingly, he’d been able to restrain his frustration at the beginning of your relationship, preventing himself from snapping at you. However, given that he was only human, his willpower could only withstand so much. The last straw was the fresh bruising on your neck that had appeared the morning after a “study date” with Everett. It couldn’t have taken much effort to disguise, but Matt could still feel the heat pooling in three mouth-shaped marks along your satiny skin.

As you sat beside him at the bookstore counter, you absentmindedly ran a finger over the neckline of your shirt, your heart fluttering as a nail scraped over the highest of the imprints. If Matt hadn’t been so in tune with you and your body, he wouldn’t have thought twice about the tiny sigh that escaped your lips–but he knew you like the back of his own hand, and the sound nearly broke him.

Noticing the way he stiffened, your brow furrowed. “You ok?” You asked kindly, shifting nearer to him.

Normally, he savored the warmth of your proximity, but today the combination of your closeness and the metallic taste of blood emanating from your various hickeys ignited a fury within him.

“Fine.” He muttered, turning the page of his book.

“Ok, let me rephrase. Did you want to talk about whatever is obviously bothering you?” You reached out to run a hand along his arm, wafting a cloud of spicy cologne towards him.

Jerking away from your touch, and nearly careening out of his seat in the process, Matt shook his head. “No. I’m good, thanks.”

Your breathing stuttered, but you shook it off quickly. “Alright, let me know if you change your mind.” Matt desperately tried to ignore the twist in his gut at the hurt that flooded your tone, to no avail.

The two of you stewed in the silence, pretending to study until the bell chimed—signaling a new presence. Matt had been so tangled up in his own guilt and regret that he hadn't noticed the familiar man approaching the store. Surely, God was laughing at his misfortune about now—his bad luck had to be cosmic.

“Evs!” You squealed, rushing out from behind the counter to hug him. After exchanging a nauseatingly lengthy kiss, you wrapped an arm around his waist and gestured to the other boy, still sitting by the register. “You remember Matt, right?”

“Uh yah. How's it goin', man?” Everett gave a rigid nod in Matt's direction, not diverting an ounce of his attention from where it rested on you.

Plastering on his phoniest smile, Matt lifted his hand in a wave. “Not too bad. You?“

”Oh you know, same old.“ The older student brushed off Matt's polite question in favor of pulling you more tightly against him. With a giggle, you let him kiss you again, standing on your tiptoes to reach him.

”What are you doing here?“ You chuckled, tilting your head to the side as his lips traveled over the bruises he'd left the night before. Matt's stomach rolled at the resulting haze of arousal around you.

”Came to see you. Missed you so much, baby.“ Everett murmured between pecks.

“I missed you too. But I'm working for another two hours.” You pushed his chest, breaking the seal of his lips along your skin.

“That's ok, I'm a very patient man.” Your paramour purred, stepping away to let you take your seat again.

Giggling, you leaned forward on the counter. Everett, as classy as ever, didn't hide the way his eyes drifted straight to your cleavage. Didn't he know that you were more than an object for his use and pleasure?

“Want to sit with us? We're reading for Torts. I can get you a chair...“ You trailed off, craning your neck to find a spare stool for him.

Clearing his throat, Matt stood. ”He can have mine. I forgot, I have plans tonight.“

You pursed your lips, studying your friend as he packed up his things. Unperturbed, Everett quickly slid in beside you. ”Thanks, bro.”

“No problem, bro.” Matt mimicked, shouldering his bag and tipping his head towards you. “See you tomorrow.”

“Um, ok. Have a good night, Matty.” You offered, relaxing slightly when he smiled back at you.

“You too, bug.” As he escaped the harrowing atmosphere, he heard Everett's seemingly innocent question.

“Bug?” The pure envy dripping from the word was enough to break Matt's face into a proud smirk.

Seemingly unaware of the budding rivalry, you laughed. 'It's a long story.“

Swiping his cane along the ground forcefully, Matt gulped in the chilly autumn air in an attempt to soothe his pounding heart. The scent of your and Everett’s combined arousal lingered on his coat, in his nose, across his tongue. Every inhale fueled his rage, and he needed to let it out.

Thankfully, there was a place that could offer him solace despite the late hour.

Plastic tapping along asphalt, he masterfully wove through the crowds and down the streets until reaching the musty building he'd been searching for. The door was ajar, propped open with a mop bucket. Steel hinges creaked as he pried open the door, stepping around the cleaning supplies and into the familiar space.

Taking careful steps across the damp concrete, he let his eyes fall closed as the sounds of swinging chains and the ever-present scent of sweat brought him back to his childhood. Blurry images of men with comically red gloves and worn vinyl punching bags flashed through his mind, interspersed with a fading picture of his late father. Swallowing roughly, he continued his march into the empty space, running a hand over the eroded ropes in the center of the room.

”Sorry kid, we're closed,“ A gruff voice broke through the silence.

Shuffling away from the boxing ring, Matt raised a hand in apology. “Sorry, uh, it's been a while since I—“

“You're Battlin' Jack's boy, ain't ya?” The older man cut him off, stepping towards Matt and giving him a once over.

Matt's jaw trembled with emotion, but he nodded slowly. “Uh, yes sir, I am.”

“Been a long time since I've seen ya 'round, kid. Life been good to ya?“ The janitor asked, swiping the mop head across the floor and diverting his gaze from Matt.

”It's been alright. The gym doing ok?“ Shifting from foot to foot, Matt suddenly felt exposed. It had been foolish to assume this place would welcome him back in the middle of the night.

”Not too bad, had to cut our hours though. Ya know how it is.“

Matt nodded politely. ”I understand. I'm sorry to intrude,“ Grasping his cane, he started for the door but the older man stopped him.

”Wait, wait. I ain't gonna kick ya out, kid. You're practically family, come here whenever ya'd like.“

”Are you sure? I don't want to impose.“

”Course I'm sure. I've gotta head home—just lock up for me, will ya?”

Heavy steps shuffled closer to Matt, an outstretched hand offering a worn key. Accepting the jagged brass object, a bloom of warmth filled Matt's chest. “Oh I...I mean—”

The man laughed heartily. ”It ain't gonna bite ya. Just don't leave the lights on too long and we're golden.“

”I'm sure that won't be a problem.“ Matt snorted.

Chuckling deeply, the other man clapped him on the shoulder. ”Fair enough. Use the key whenever you'd like, kid. Don't be a stranger.“

”Thank you, um...“

”Ron, Ron Clark. Nice to see ya again.“

”Thank you, Ron. Have a good night.“

”You too.“ Another squeeze of Matt's shoulder and the other man headed out.

Standing still for a moment, Matt turned the key over in his palm, savoring the swell of pride and gratitude before slipping the chunk of metal into his pocket and stripping out of his coat.

It hadn't been too long since he'd trained, but he was definitely rusty. His muscles practically shrieked beneath his skin as he ran through some exercises Stick used to drill him with, stationed at a spare punching bag. The punches he threw were wobbly and his stance was crooked, but the repetitive motion still began to drain the tension from his shoulders.

Adjusting his position, the corners of his mouth twitched upwards as he fell back into a familiar rhythm. The solid weight of the sand against his knuckles chipped away at the darkness that had been swirling around him for days. Each hit was deliberate and, telling himself it was just to work on his accuracy, he started envisioning Everett's face being pummeled by his fists. Though he'd never seen it, Matt was more than happy bombarding the vague idea of your boyfriend with precise hits.

Everett. Evs. The boy who swept you off your feet before Matt could even work up the nerve to tell you how he felt. A man who simultaneously paid Matt no mind and was far too invested in the blind man's connection to you. Were his feelings for you so obvious that your boyfriend felt the need to drive a wedge between the pair of you?

You never seemed to mind Matt's flirting and general touchiness, though he wasn't sure if you were aware that you drew that side of him out more often than anyone else. Everett seemed to know, given the way he had so easily marked your delicate skin.

Growling, Matt drove his hands into the swinging cylinder with more force. Was Everett the only guy allowed to hangout with you? To hug you? To rest your head against his shoulder? He could mark you up all he wanted, it wouldn't stop Matt from holding your hand or kissing your cheek or thinking about kissing every goddamn inch of you as your heart pounded.

Anger churned in his gut at the thought of the cocky 3rd year claiming every inch of you, drawing sounds out of you that Matt could only imagine.

His cock twitched as he fantasized. What would it be like to claim you as his, have you wrapped around him—underneath him. Would you sound like any of the other girls he'd been with? There was no doubt you'd sound sweeter. Mewling at his touches, screaming his name when he inevitably made you climax.

Panting breathlessly as phantom cries of pleasure ricocheted off the perimeter of his skull, Matt's logic and consideration flew out the window as he ripped off his tight jeans—all thoughts centered on your gorgeous figure and how you already responded to him.

Your past relationships had been so underwhelming that a few hickeys got you riled up? Matt could blow that out of the water. He doubted Everett was a very giving partner, he'd have to make that up to you. Would you want him to please you? To taste you? Matt was sure you tasted divine.

His back arched off of the cool concrete as he came, hand unwittingly wrapped around his cock. As his arousal faded, guilt came crashing in. He couldn't help if thoughts of you slipped in when he touched himself in the comforts of his room but coming in public at the idea of tasting you? He needed help.

Blushing furiously, he ran to the locker rooms to clean himself up.

Shaking her head at the sound of mischievous giggling, Maggie pinched out the last of the candles and began walking toward the double doors. “You know, this is your last chance to leave the chapel before the ghosts arrive.” She spoke calmly, not turning her head toward the two boys crouched behind a pew to her left.

A small, hesitant voice piped up. ”Ghosts?“ The other boy shushed the first, resulting in a small scuffle.

Stifling a smile, she nodded gravely, pausing by an empty pew within eyesight of the troublemakers. “That's right. Darn building is full of them. Nasty little spirits who like to haunt little boys.”

“They what!!?” One of the boys asked, horrified.

“Yep. They like to chase them around, pull out their hair, and force them to eat vegetables.”

Shrieking, the young boys darted out from behind the bench and ran quickly out the door towards the dormitory.

Preening at her accomplishment, she was about to lock up when a new voice startled her.

“Still using the ghost method, huh?”

Whirling around, she brought a hand up to rest on her heart when she recognized the young man before her. Huffing out an irritated breath, she greeted him. “Matthew.”

Nervously, he returned the curt nod she gave him. “Sister.”

“It's nice to see you, though I will be the first to tell you we do not have space to board grown men.”

Chuckling, Matt adjusted his grip on his cane. “Your faith in me is endless, Sister. I still have a place to live, I just came for confession.”

Crossing her arms, Maggie raised a brow. “It's a bit late for confession, Matthew. Come back tomorrow.”

”I know it's late, I just—“

“Matthew,” Father Lantom appeared in the entrance to the chapel, expression and tone much more appreciative of Matt's presence than Maggie seemed. “It's nice to see you, son. How is it out there?”

Smiling proudly, Matt leaned into the hand Lantom placed on his shoulder. “It's wonderful, Father. I'm sorry to have disturbed you, I'll come back tomorrow like Sister Maggie suggested.” The Father's grasp on his arm tightened marginally.

”Nonsense. You are always welcome here. Did you want to sit in the Confessional, or can I offer you a cup of tea first?“

Jaw tightening as his ears rang with Maggie's incredulous scoff, he shook his head. “No, I shouldn't have come, I—“

“Maggie, would you mind lighting a few candles? Matthew, have a seat. I'll be back with something for you to drink. Is chamomile ok?”

Nodding apprehensively, Matt shuffled over to a bench and sat down, turning the foam handle of his cane in his palms as Lantom headed off.

His pulse pounded in the tense silence as Maggie lit three of the lanterns closest to him.

“I'm sorry, Sister, I wasn't thinking—”

“You weren't. Though it seems the Father is still happy to indulge your whims, even if you aren't our responsibility any more.”

Ducking his head in embarrassment, Matt chewed the inside of his cheek, the Sister's scolding stoking his towering flames of guilt. “I can still leave.”

“I think the time for that has passed, Matthew.” Sitting at the opposite end of the pew, she sighed. “Is school everything you hoped for?”

The question was an obvious olive branch, and Matt accepted it gratefully. “It's a very different environment. Full of sin, you'd hate it.”

Maggie chuckled, weaving her fingers together and studying the boy. He looked well enough, apprehensive and ashamed, sure, but fed and rested. He'd clearly been taking decent care of himself, which is more than she could've asked for.

Firm steps echoed in the cavernous building as Lantom returned, holding a carefully balanced tray of three ceramic cups. “Maggie, I assume you'll be joining us?” He gave her a pointed look and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“I'd love to.” She smiled, accepting one of the steaming cups.

Matt smirked at her exaggerated apathy, accepting his own drink. “Thank you both. I'm sorry for my timing.”

“Our doors are always open for you, Matthew. What did you feel the need to confess?”

Blushing at the reminder of his unholy actions, he sighed. “I've been...preoccupied as of late, with...impure thoughts. And I'm not quite sure how to reconcile that.”

Listening to Maggie's heart stutter, it seemed she was equally uncomfortable with her presence in this conversation, yet she made no attempt to leave.

Father Lantom, on the other hand, nodded thoughtfully. “Sinful thoughts are different from sinful actions Matthew. Our minds cannot be controlled to the same degree.”

“I know that, it's just...” Scrubbing a hand over his face, Matt grit his teeth in frustration. “These thoughts, they're mostly about one girl. And they've become more frequent since she began dating someone else.”

“You're close with this girl?” Lantom asked, tilting his head in brief understanding.

Matt nodded mournfully, raking fingers through his hair. “Very. She's one of two friends I have and one of the best people I've ever known. But, lately, I can't even be in the same room as her without getting angry because...because she's not mine.”

Maggie blew out an exasperated breath. “Women are not possessions, Matthew.”

“I know that! I just mean,I—” Spluttering, Matt failed to find the words to justify his admission. God, he was just as bad as Everett.

“Take a breath, my child.” Father Lantom instructed. “Have you told this girl how you feel?”

Shaking his head, eyes wide, Matt's words were more forceful than intended. “No, God no!”

“Language.” Maggie scolded.

“Forgive me, Sister. I'm just...terrified that I'll lose her. And I feel like I can no longer control myself, which means I might lose her anyways.” Blinking rapidly to dry the tears forming in his eyes, Matt snapped his jaw shut before his emotions began to crack the steadiness of his voice.

“Quite the predicament you've landed yourself in, poor boy.” Lantom squeezed Matt's forearm reassuringly, gazing upwards in thought. “As uncertain as it can seem, His plan for us is often for our own good, Matthew. Perhaps, your friend's involvement with another is a path for you to settle for the friendship you have, at least for the time being.”

“If that was his plan, then why does it feel like she's slipping away?” His words were quiet, dense with fear and shame.

“Love makes people do stupid things, Matthew,” Maggie remarked. “Does she know that you think she's been distant?”

“No,” Matt admitted.

“Tell her then, you ridiculous boy.” Maggie encouraged, voice softening as she added, “If she chooses to change her behavior, well, it's up to you how to proceed.”

Lantom nodded, “As for your own thoughts, that's a bit tricky. Speaking with her and focusing on a platonic relationship might help, it might not. Remember that God searches the heart and tests the mind, this might simply be a test of your connection to this woman or of your own patience.”

“He is definitely testing my patience.” Matt muttered, drawing laughs out of both Maggie and Lantom. “Thank you both for listening, and for your assistance. I'll get out of your hair now.”

“It was lovely to see you, Matthew. We can discuss the outcome of your conversation the next time you attend Mass.” The pastor stood, allowing Matt to exit the pew.

“Take care, Matthew.” Maggie lifted a hand in goodbye as the two watched the younger boy retreat.

Thank you for reading my lovelies!

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