#hells kitchen x reader

[myownwutheringheights]

Trying

Rating and AN: M. Minors DNI. You are responsible for your own media consumption and have been warned. Not beta read, what is editing. It’s not perfect but it’s mine 🥰 Enjoy the combo of Fluff & Filth

Fandom: Daredevil

Pairing: Matt Murdock x f!reader, established relationship

Warnings: Post sex, discussion of unprotected sex (wrap it up!)/unprotected p in v/hormonal birth control talk/sex with the intent of pregnancy, Matt Murdock should have his own warning, author has a breeding kink that she refuses to apologize for

Summary: You’re basking in the afterglow of you and Matt trying for a baby for the first time

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The cozy, almost sleepy feeling was starting to overcome you both as you both settled into the bed. Your heart rate was beginning to settle and calm, your breathing returned to normal, perhaps even slower than normal. More content. It felt like pure peace in the afterglow of the intense love making you’d shared. Matt had settled behind you, leaving you as the happy little spoon. Your head rested against the cradle of his arm and shoulder, his arm lined up with yours. His fingers laced with yours while his legs were tangled with yours, bare chest to your back, your ass rested against his lap, his cock still hard against you, and you know you’d go again for another round soon.

He was a man on a mission. You’d read it it in his expression, in the way he’d moved with you with every thrust till he’d come inside you. You still felt warm with his seed buried deep in you, and some of it dripping from you.

But perhaps your favorite with this position was the placement of his other arm, draped around your lower abdomen, as if willing the act of creation to occur in that very moment, and you couldn’t seem to wipe away the gentle smile on your face. “I don’t think it happens that fast, Matty,” you chuckle gently, lovingly teasing him. You loved the feeling of his hand there. You didn’t want the warmth of his palm to leave you. You felt so safe and protected wrapped up in him, protected in the arms of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. And you knew his hand would stay there whenever your belly would swell and grow from his child.

He answered your chuckle with one of his own. “Yes, I know. But a man can hope….imagine,” he smiled, that glorious smile, placing soft kisses against your shoulder. You settled more into his arms if it was possible, curling against him as you tug the sinfully soft sheets up more as you snuggle up. He smiles even more as you wiggle in; you want to be closer. “My sweet girl….nesting already?”

You nod playfully, knowing he feels it. “Sure am. And you’re pretty comfy.” All abs and muscle. Warm. But even draped in his arms with the smell of sex and desire still in the air, cozy and comfy and content, you still want him closer.

“I’m right here…” he reassures you as you fight to get as close as you can and Matt lets out the most amazing sound as you rub against his still hard cock, more precum dripping from him. “If you don’t stop that, I’ll have to fuck you again” He nips down at the sensitive curve of your neck this time, making you let out a gasp as he clutches you tighter in his arms. “Is that what you want? For me to come inside you again? Till you’re overflowing with me?”

You bite down on your lip and a small whimper escapes as he scatters tender kisses over you. “You like being this way don’t you? With my cum inside you, dripping out of you?” His voice was lower with lust as he snaked his hand between your legs, fingers grazing over the seed and slick that had leaked from you, making you whimper again. You can’t even form words, couldn’t answer his filthy question if you tried. “And don’t try lying, your heart’s racing.” As if you needed a reminder of how well he can read you, how well he knows you.

You let out a cry as Matt presses two fingers inside your sensitive folds, pushing his cum that had dripped out back inside you and it’s so achingly intimate. “Don’t let a drop go to waste, sweetheart,” he whispered with a brush of his lips against your ear, tugging ever so slightly at your earlobe, knowing what his words did to you. “God, I can’t wait to feel your body change,” he says, making you smile at the idea as he kisses along your jaw as he continues to move his fingers inside you, knowing every inch of you, knowing just how you like it till you you gasp out and he captures your mouth in his.

His lips part yours, your tongues dancing as he slowly pulls his fingers out from you. What remains on his fingers he brings up to your mouth and you greedily take his two fingers into your mouth, his juices mixed with yours. You nip on the pads of his finger tips, and ensure he can hear you swallow. “That’s my good girl,” his smile is radiant.

“Stop talking and kiss me, Murdock.” He knows full well your smile matches his own as you pull him down for a long, warm and deeply intimate kiss. You wanted to memorize this moment, this feeling of basking in the afterglow and the feeling of his love and hope for the what the future would hold.

You two had talked about kids from early on; debating and questioning if it was the right choice. Not for lack of wanting, no, it was something you both wanted. There was just so much to consider and there was an elephant in the room; children and vigilantes didn’t seem like the best combination. He was Daredevil, you knew this. He’d always be Daredevil. And you loved both sides of him; you accepted both parts of his life. You were a little too familiar to the risk and danger his world and his secret work presented. You knew full well what you could lose…..everything.

But life was always risk. There were no promises or guarantees.

And you wanted this. You wanted him, and all he could give you and all you could give him. You wanted a family with him. The same way he wanted this with you. And when you’d told him you wanted this, you were saying yes to both parts of him being the father of your child. And you’d never forget that look, the surprise and joy written in his expression and that smile slowly spreading across his face when you’d silenced your birth control alarm for good, and thrown out what was left. He’d longed for this with you, not even truly being able to imagine himself being a father till he met you. But he’d wanted to be absolutely sure you were ready. And now you both were ready for this, you both wanted this.

Together.

Maybe you’d thought you both could have changed your minds a month later or more, after getting the birth control out of your system. Or maybe one or both of you would have felt different when you told him you were ovulating. Or after you’d made love, and tried for the first time, after you screamed his name and begged him to come inside you, after he’d roared out and after he’d spilled inside you without protection. With no barriers. But it was the opposite. The feeling of bliss was brighter than the neon sign outside your apartment. The bed felt more comfortable, the sheets felt softer and you couldn’t imagine a better feeling. Matt was kissing you with his hands cupped along your cheek and the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair, and he was moving to climb back on top of you, desperate to get back inside you. To try over and over, filling you up with him. Your legs spread for him and wrapped on instinct around his waist to draw him in as one arm clung to the strong muscles of his back, the other moving into his dark hair. He moans, his scalp sensitive as your fingers move through his hair.

“You plan to keep me up all night?” You tease as your hand leaves his hair to cup his cheek as he kisses you again and again, making you giggle.

“That was my plan. Any complaints?” The corner of his mouth curved into that cocky smile you loved so much.

“None whatsoever…” you whisper, resting your forehead to his, taking a peaceful moment, still basking in those feelings of utter contentment, settling back into the pillows. “Matt?” You whisper, “you’re going to be an amazing dad…”

He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, he stays there, rested against you and nearly inside you. You run your fingers up and down his back, waiting for him to speak when he’s ready. He touches his hand to your chin to tilt your head up ever so slightly, kissing your forehead, your temple, and finally your lips, slow and sweet with a promise of so many things. “Thank you…” it’s all he could say, the emotions choked up in his throat as he deepens that kiss. He wanted to say so much more; how much that meant to him, how he’d do his best. How he’d fight for you, fight for your children till his last breath. But he didn’t say those things now; there was plenty of time to tell you those things. “And you, y/n, you are going to be the most amazing mother,” his voice was so tender and gentle as his arms wrapped around you tight and secure. Safe.

Home.

“Then what are you waiting for? Give me a baby.” You’ve never felt so certain and so excited for anything in your life.

“With pleasure,” he says, with one last smirk on his handsome face. All that mattered to him in this moment was taking care of you, giving you what you asked, and what he also so desperately wanted. Tonight he was a man determined, with one goal. The love of your life, the man who would be the father of your children, your Matthew, your Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

All other thoughts left you, and then you were already crying out his name, content in his arms, begging for him as he fills you up to try once more.

#netflix daredevil #marvel #daredevil #Matt Murdock #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x fem!reader smut #charlie cox #daredevil fanfiction #matt murdock fanfic #marvel's daredevil #matt murdock fanfiction #marvel mcu #mcu #devil of hell’s kitchen

[rosegolqen]

Mors Vincit Omnia

billy russo x reader (au)

warning: none

words: 3321

ii. feigned behaviour and alias

20.160 minutes. 336 hours. 14 days. That was the last time Billy Russo laid his eyes on the woman who he only knew two facts about. Her name and that she at least knows how to speak two languages. What a fucking nightmare these last two weeks have been. He should be disappointed in himself. In not one of the databases he searched through has he found her. He even had to ask a few favours. How pathetic of him.

The more pathetic thing about him was not being able to concentrate on the woman — whose name he had already forgotten— who lay in his bed. He blamed it on the stress. He had a big client coming in that he had been sweet-talking in the last few days to sign a contract with Anvil. It was just the stress, nothing else. He was already dreading the stupid gala that he had to attend on the weekend. The positive thing though, this possible client invited him, which meant the deal was likely to be signed by next week. Which furthermore meant more money coming in and that meant he was less in debt with Rawlins.

Hands gripped his right bicep as the smell of too-sweet perfume hit his nose and a warm body draped itself over him. Anya? Alice or Amelia? He honestly couldn't remember what the woman's name beside him was. He randomly hit a number on his phone an hour ago and asked if she could come over to have fun. Anya or whatever her name was agreed and arrived in a revealing dark red dress that showed off her long legs and nice chest. Immediately Billy knew she would be a nice distraction for a few hours.

What he didn't take into account was that his mind would jump too quickly back to the mystery woman who moved like an assassin. He should concentrate on Anya beside him as she slowly caressed his sides with gentle hands. "What's on your mind, pretty boy?"

A sour taste settled in his mouth at her compliment but Billy pushed the dark thoughts away as they tried to grip his mind with slimy hands. Anya couldn't know how that compliment made his insides churn with anxiety. He stiffened his smile when he looked at her, scratching his beard as he pondered her question. The lie slipped from his tongue easily. "Work." Billy stretched his hands above his shoulders, laying them underneath his head. Anya clung to his body even more as his hands moved away. "It's been a rough couple of days."

Anya kissed his chest, slowly moving up to his neck and jawline. She moved the silk sheets away from her body, straddling his lower stomach. “I can help distract you.” She said in a husky voice, arousal deepening the timbers in her vocal cords.

Billy welcomed her distraction, savouring the moments when his mind didn’t stray to anything else other than Anya and her body. He lost himself in her movements as he flipped them over and seated himself deep inside her warmth. His brain shut out any thought of boring paperwork, wasted flatter on rich men and hazel eyes that seemed to accompany him even in his dreams.

—

Billy already hated this. The stuffy room with artificial light made his eyes burn a bit as he blinked the uncomfortable feeling away and his eyes adjusted to the light. The people around him mingled in groups in their lavish suits and dresses. Expensive watches adorned the men's wrists in the room and ladies wore their most luxurious necklaces and earrings. Billy should be used to this. To people floundering their wealth and money— hell, he even did it— but it was still strange sometimes. Now and then he's just the same young boy who jumped from foster home to foster home.

Pushing those grey deliberations away from his mind, Billy tried to mingle with the people who first called his name when he stepped into the room half an hour ago. He tried to focus on the conversation going on around him but he should find the potential client who invited him to this dull fundraiser with even more duller and uninteresting people. Though some of the nonprofits who were trying to raise money and build relationships with their donors tonight seemed rather compelling. Just the suck-up rich and unstimulating people seemed to tire Billy's mind.

He adjusted the cuffs of his impeccable suit, taking a subtle look at his watch. 20:48. At least another two hours until it was deemed proper and acceptable for him to go home. Billy craned his neck, eyes searching for a specific clientele that should already be here. He hoped tonight they could come to a reasonable agreement and sign the contract Billy's assistant sent him over yesterday.

The voice he was hoping to hear tonight called behind him, pulling him away from the suffocating crowd. Daniel Shepherd clapped him on the shoulder, his voice pulling in his head that turned in his direction. "Rosetta, please let me introduce you to William Russo."

Billy looked at the woman who was beside his potential client. Daniel had his hand on the small of her back as he continued to list names Billy hadn't heard of yet. While the women tonight wore revealing dresses with slits to their thighs and low-cut gowns in a variety of different colours, Rosetta wore a simple satin black evening dress with an open back. The fabric clung to all the right places on her body but not too much to indulge in what lay underneath the pricy textile.

Rosetta's gaze met his as she uttered the words in a voice that seemed too familiar for Billy. Have they met before? Maybe even shared an intimate night together but the accent in her voice made him scratch those thoughts away. "Pleasure."

"All mine, Rosetta." He politely answered back, dark eyes that blended in with his pupils never left her face. Studying the details he couldn't remember where he knew from. "You are from-?"

"Yes, Britain." She agreed without Billy having to end his sentence. She probably had that asked too many times tonight. "I'm here instead of my friend who painted all this amazing art." She gestured with her hand around the room, a smile on her face. She had dimples, Billy realized. His eyes left her form as he surveyed the room. He didn't notice them before. Huh. "She fell sick but wanted someone to represent her here today. She called Daniel and asked him if I could come instead of her. Daniel being the gracious co-host he is, of course, said yes."

"You talk too highly of me." Daniel put his hand on his heart, the other still on her back. Billy's gaze discreetly followed the curve of Rosetta's jawline and the slope of her nose to her lips. Those were unrecognizable but her eyes, the dark brown of her eyebrows and pinned dark strands of hair brought up thoughts Billy didn't seem to shake. They must have slept together at some point otherwise Billy didn't have a clue where he would know her from. But the name Rosetta or her English accent didn't ring any bells and she didn't seem to react to him at all. Focus, Billy. Make time to talk to Daniel and convince him to sign.

"It's the truth!" Rosetta clutched her purse with hands that seemed too callous for a lady who attended tonight's gala.

Daniel smiled at her before his eyes left hers and he looked around the circle of people who stood with them at the round high bar table. "Well, if I knew Anita had such beautiful friends I would have invited her more often to these events."

Rosetta stiffened up a bit, the corners of her mouth twisting. It was gone in a second as her lips pulled up in a charming smile, but Billy saw it. Maybe he should stop staring at her but who cared? He certainly didn't but he also didn't want to come across like a creep so he averted his eyes to the other guests before moving back to her. While she wore heels and Daniel wasn't a tall man himself either she had to crane her neck to look him in the eyes. "If I knew this many handsome men attend these kinds of galas, I would have asked her sooner to invite me."

Daniel laughed loudly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as a light shade of pink covered his ears. As far as Billy knew Daniel wasn't married or even had a girlfriend. There was a rumour going around an upper-class dinner Billy attended a few months ago that Daniel and his assistant held a close relationship but nobody knew anything else on the matter. "You are too kind, my lady, and a charmer." Daniel voiced smoothly back.

Rosetta tilted her head, the strand of hair that reached her chin shifted with the movement of her cranium. "What can I say I enjoy your company."

"Do you?" Daniel's eyes didn't stray from her as the conversation around the small circle of people at the table continued. Rosetta didn't spare Billy a second glance when the chatter strayed back to him, asking him how life was treating him. No, she rather exchanged flirty remarks with Daniel Shepherd.

What a nightmare, Billy thought as he effortlessly smoothed his hair back, the glass of single malt whiskey cold in his hand and the smoothness of the drink burned his throat as he swallowed a sip. He surveyed the artwork around him, the blended colours of dark reds and cobalt blues. The paintings didn't stir any feelings in him or any further thought to know more about them. However, he was interested in who Rosetta's sick friend was. The name Anita didn't strike a chord in his consciousness so Billy let them drift away.

Rosetta's voice made him turn back to her as she looked at him, "What is it that you do for work exactly? If I may ask, of course."

His bewildered expression at her question made Billy think he looked like a fish caught off guard. "I-" What do you mean she didn't know what he did? What he owned? That he served in the Army for years and killed more people than he could count on his two hands? It made Billy think less of himself, which didn't seem logical. He wanted people to know and recognize him. He wanted to be notable for something yet he didn't wish for people to understand or fathom him.

Then it dawned upon him as she further explained, "I'm sorry, I should have rephrased myself. I'm not very familiar with everyone around here and what they exactly do. I'm trying to get to know as many people as I can. Make acquaintances, you know?"

Of fucking course she didn't know him or rather his social image that was open to the public. She or anyone else for that matter didn't know the horrible things Billy did outside of his public appearances. The lonely nights that he spent covered in the blood of the people Rawlins wanted Billy to eliminate. That he almost got his best friend and his family killed. "I own a security company."

"Like for clubs?"

Billy chuckled, shaking his head as surveyed the woman before him. His laughter died down, Rosetta's innocent eyes wide at his teasing smile when he answered. "No, we protect Senators,-" Billy shrugged, "-public people who are in any type of risk or endangerment."

Her mouth formed an oval shape, brows furrowing before they evened out again. "Oh, that makes more sense, doesn't it?" She looked at Daniel with a fascination in her eyes as Billy revealed his answer. He found it strange. A classy woman from England with calloused yet tender-looking hands seeking validation from a man like Daniel Shepherd. What was she here for and why? She was trying to come across as a modest and proper yet dense lady while Billy saw the sharp glint in her eyes when nobody else seemed to. And maybe that made him more nervous than before. Because he recognized it in himself when he was talking with dim-witted clients or trying to seem like the good guy when doing interviews with whatever newspaper.

"Billy here has been working very hard.” Daniel praised him, “His company is one of the most successful ones here in New York."

Billy did let those words get to his head. Daniel wasn’t lying. Anvil was the most affluent and profit-making that it have ever been. "Thank you, Daniel. I always like to hear those words."

Billy looked at Rosetta again to gauge her reaction to the well-doing of his company and the flatter he received from Shepherd but she wasn’t looking at him or Daniel. Rather she observed the crowd around her in the spacious room. Something appeared to catch her attention more than the looks of Billy Russo and that made him feel…? Absolutely nothing, the ex-military man thought.

She looked back at Daniel, craning her neck to whisper something in his ear and clutching her bag with pale knuckles. She turned around and gave Daniel one last charming smile. Billy only saw the full extent of her backless dress as she made her steps away from them, hips swaying just the right way to turn heads in her direction. "Restroom," Daniel answered Billy's questioning gaze as he averted his eyes and smiled at the man standing before him. Billy jumped right into business but the question still lingered in his mind.

Who was this woman?

—

Billy fucking Russo. Of course. Why didn’t Anastasiya think of that? Stupid, stupid, stupid. She was so excited for the information she needed to get tonight that she didn’t think a socially recognizable person like Billy Russo would also attend the same gala she happened to be present at. Yeah, she knew exactly who he was when she spied on Kolya two weeks ago at the warehouse. She didn’t think he was worth another thought these last 14 days yet tonight proved Anastasiya wrong.

Why? Why and why? Billy could mess up the whole plan she carefully laid out for tonight. He didn’t seem to know her which had slowed Anastasiya’s heartbeat when she spoke to him before. But the way his eyes lingered on her for more than an ethically acceptable time made her nervous and she hadn’t felt nervous in a long while.

With a deep breath and an additional strut in her steps, Anastasiya fixated on her target for the night. The glass containing a scarlet wine that she grabbed from a tray made her hand heavy as she focused on the man coming towards her. She was out of sight of Daniel and his suck-up friends so Anastasiya didn’t mind putting on a show as she intentionally slipped on nothing but thin air.

The ruby liquid collided with the white and black colours of the man’s suit before her as she steadied herself and the glass in her hand. "Oh, my! I am so sorry, sir! That is all my fault. I haven't been paying attention to where I was going."

The man whom Anastasiya studied for the last two weeks let out a loud curse, "No! Leave it!" He quickly grabbed a few napkins from a nearby table as he shook his head, muttering curse words under his breath. His harsh tone softened when he looked at her. Anastasiya made sure her eyes looked as innocent as possible, her shoulders hanging low, brows pulled together to enhance that timid aura she was supposed to give off. Her mouth hung open with an apologetic look on her face. The man sputtered on his words. "I shouldn't have been walking this fast. Excuse me for raising my voice."

Anastasiya hoped she pulled off the shy and pure exterior as she apologized. Her arms reached for more napkins as she patted the older man’s suit to help him. "No, please don't apologize. I ruined your suit."

"Nothing I can't buy 10 more times." My God. How uncreative, Anastasiya thought. People who were truly strong on the inside wouldn’t need to show off to people by saying phrases like that. People with extreme qualities like bragging about how great they were, and how many women they’ve seduced also liked to brag about their fancy cars. But those were the very same people who were such weak, tiny little people on the inside. Anastasiya never understood the concept. They were trying to cover up their weaknesses and insecurities with bravado and wealth. People should let their actions do the talking sometimes rather than using their unnecessary words.

Anastasiya didn’t let the comment affect her though. "Please let me do something for you." She mimicked a fake pondering look on her face. The man was already eating out of the palm of her hands. "Let me pay for the cleaning. I feel terrible."

"Nonsense."

She put the pink slightly wet napkins on the table. "Then let me make it up to you with a dinner?"

"I-"

"Please, I insist." The man’s name was Denis Andreyev. He hesitantly agreed to her offer but with a bit more convincing on Anastasiya’s side he took the bait. She grabbed a business card from her bag with a fake name on it and slipped it into the front pocket of his suit. "Call me. And I will arrange a dinner for us where I can hopefully-" Anastasiya chuckled with embarrassment as she tapped the front pocket on his chest with her left hand, "Make up for whatever trouble I have caused you."

"Alright.” The man joined in laughter with her, a flirtatious smile on his face that made Anastasiya happy she would be able to kill him as soon as she got what she came for. “Thank you,...?"

"Beatrice." She answered his question. Denis bowed at the waist, his hand grabbed hers as he slowly brought up her hand to his mouth and kissed it. In that moment Anastasiya successfully seized his identifying card from his suit jacket as Denis was focused on her fluttery eyes and soft lips.

She snatched her other hand quickly back from his suit before he could notice it. Ding, ding. One for Anastasiya. Zero for yet another Russian man before her. Now she just had to get into his office undetected.

Denis wished her a good night and promised to call her. How bad that the number on that business card didn’t exist just like the name she gave him. Anastasiya apologized again as she stepped away from him and made her way to the stairs to be able to reach the elevator.

When she reached the corner of the wall, disappearing behind the white slab of concrete and out of the gaze of the other guests, a strong arm reached around her waist and pinned her to the wall. Warm hands covered her mouth, and the voice of the man she didn’t want to hear again tonight reached her ears, “Where do you think you’re going with that, Anastasiya?”

Billy fucking Russo.

#the punisher #marvel #billy russo x female reader #billy russo x you #billy russo x reader #billy russo #red room #mcu #frank castle #assasin au #black widow #fanfic #karen page #alternative universe #matt murdock #hell’s kitchen #the red room #marvel mcu

[leahkenobi]

between the crosshairs

frank castle x fem!reader

word count: 2k

summary: you did everything possible to forget the day that the devil of hell’s kitchen and frank castle had saved you. somehow, even your own repression of memories wasn’t enough to keep you safe from enemy arms.

warnings: allusions to sa, guns, kidnapping, reader witnesses a murder, mentions of blood, anxiety, mostly just cannon typical stuff, frank calls reader baby but relationship is undefined

a/n: alright. i’m not gonna act like i’m great at this whole keeping up with a blog thing, it can be quite a struggle for me. but i just got POUNDED with ideas for mr. frank castle thanks to @oliviajdjarin telling me to watch daredevil. so here this is. this is set during the daredevil s2 finale!

a/n 2: to preface this fic if you are reading this, i’m intending to turn this into a bit of a universe if that makes sense. like multiple fics within the same setting and relationship situation. idk. no promises, but that’s the intention. so i suppose this is the first part. if you would like to join the frank tag list lmk and i would be happy to add ya!

the walk home from josie’s was brisk and lonely. the snow was just beginning to flutter down and the wind was whipping it in your face. it was a safe journey you had trekked time and time again.

you stepped over broken glass and other littered items on the side walk and as muscle memory took over, your mind drifted.

he couldn’t be dead, truly, could he? if he wasn’t, where was he? was he safe now?

since the day frank had saved you from the hands of a kitchen irish member, he had been the only thing on your mind. granted, he had help from the devil of hell’s kitchen, but frank was who you always went back to. the way he had soothed you, the way he had taken care of those men who had tried to hurt you, who had tried to take something from you-

you snapped from the memories at the sound of glass crunching behind you. it wasn’t abnormal for others to be walking this street at the late hour, it had happened plenty of times. you moved in unison for a while until the steps behind you increased in speed.

you kept moving, increasing your pace as well, assuming that it was just someone in a hurry. surely they weren’t following you, right?

as the mysterious person on your tail increased their speed even more to match your own, you stuck your hand into your bag, fishing through it for the little pink pepper spray you bought before you had moved to the city.

you risked a peek over your shoulder to see a man with a black ski mask covering his face, and the only thought that came to mind was fuck, you could really use frank right now.

you stopped on the side walk, knowing that running was pointless. you would never outrun this man in heels, and if you could find that damn pepper spray and hit him with it, you could have a chance.

you pulled it out, turning to spray him just as he pulled out his gun, pointing it right at your chest.

your panic rose instantly. even during your altercation with the kitchen irish, a gun was never pointed at you. a whimper nearly left your throat as the man spoke to you.

“drop that fucking pepper spray, don’t say a word, and don’t fight. come easily and quietly, and we won’t have a problem,” the man said to you.

you didn’t release the pepper spray. you tried to push it down, tried to get it to work but the damn thing was jammed-

“i said drop it. drop it now, come with me. now,” the man said with force. every part of your body screamed at you to run, to fight, to do anything to keep this man at bay.

but he took a step closer, bringing the gun right to your chest, right over your heart.

“now,” he repeated. and the pink pepper spray clattered to the ground.

————————————

you were taken to a van filled with others just like you, others that had bound hands and terror written on their faces.

on the trip to wherever these kidnappers, or human traffickers, or murderers (hell you didn’t know) were taking you, an older man tried to stand up for himself, for all of you there. only to be shot through the head.

the fear you felt in that moment was inexplicable. your whole body was burning, your ears unhearing, your eyes watering and your mind running circles. this wasn’t real, this wasn’t real, it wasn’t real-

but it was. it was real and you were here in a van filled with screaming people and the smell of copper was filling the air and the blood was pooling around you.

and then you were being thrown out of the van, onto the cold concrete, knees scraping against it. only to be hauled up again and chased into a building, gun held to your lower back.

all sense of reality was pulled from under you. all you could think was survive survive survive. so you didn’t scream. you weren’t a nuisance. as they threw you into a room, you didn’t cry, you didn’t so much as flinch.

because the less you reacted, the less likely they were to kill you. when the kind looking blonde woman and the beat up man were being targeted by your captors, while they attempted to cut the man’s foot off, you sat stoically. completely unflinching, unmoving as the man screamed and the woman begged and the screams of others filled the room-

and then he was bursting through the window. the devil of the kitchen was here again, to save you all, to get you out. as he took out the men with guns, the other captives ran. as you remained on the ground, hardly thinking anything of the scene, the blonde woman grabbed your bound hands with her own. she shouted at you.

“get up, cmon get up,” she said frantically. her voice pulled you from your stupor, igniting you instinct to survive. she would lead you out, you would survive.

and you did. you made it out. you watched as the blonde woman went to her friend or boyfriend or brother, whoever he was.

you stood there in the middle of the street, unsure of what to do now. you were out, but your mind couldn’t move quick enough. you needed to go- get somewhere safe, but where? and how? where even were you?

your breathing rate must have increased because the nice man with the blonde woman approached you.

“hey, are you alright miss?” he asked.

you breaths kept coming out fast and labored.

“that’s okay, you don’t have to answer. my name is foggy, and that woman over there is karen,” he spoke softly, “can i cut these off of you?”

you nodded firmly, you needed out, needed free, needed to be away from here.

your hands were free, and slowly your breathe came back to you. you had needed the added freedom to move as you wished, and not feel like a captive, apparently.

“do you have a family?” karen asked, her voice kind and gentle.

you shook your head, “no, i-i not here.”

“that’s okay,” she said smiling faintly, “what about a boyfriend, or husband. maybe any friends?”

you shook your head. you had one friend, one who was unreliable, but somehow always there when you needed him. he had always been there, but he was gone now.

“alright, we can take you home,” she said, looking to foggy for help and confirmation. but his gaze was fixed elsewhere, focused in on the roof where some sort of fight was breaking out.

shots were heard by all of the people who were flooded in the street. loud, piercing gun shots. panic swelled in your chest once more, not sure of where the shooter was aiming.

but the shooter would never aim at you. no, that was his girl down there, his girl stood in between that lawyer and the blonde who he’d met through him.

that was his girl he saw in his crosshairs, shaking in the street, wrists bloody and red.

“y/n?” he muttered to himself quietly on the roof.

he wanted to run to you. right now, he wanted to jump from these buildings, climb down, get to you. you were bleeding and he needed to get to you, to keep you safe, protect you-

but he couldn’t. because he was dead. he was dead and he couldn’t just run into the bustling street filled with cops and strangers who had all known him as the punisher.

he couldn’t do anything as you were coaxed into a car with the lawyer and karen. he couldn’t get down there to stop the car, to get to you.

but he could meet them at the location. he could find you again. they would probably bring you home or to their office, maybe even karen’s apartment. he would find you, search all over this goddamn city to get to you.

————————————

karen spoke with you softly in the car, asking about where you lived and where you worked. you could hardly focus on what she saying to you, confused about why she needed to know what you did for a living. you couldn’t understand that she probably was trying to figure out who to call to check in on you- even if it was just a coworker, you needed someone right now.

eventually, you reached your home. foggy and karen helped you inside your apartment, carefully walking you up all the stairs to the quaint studio style living space.

as soon as you reached your door, you pulled out your spare key from under the welcome mat and began to turn it in the lock.

“um.. thank you for helping me and bringing me home. that was… that was very kind,” you said to the two of them.

foggy gave you a nod. “it was no problem, honestly. i’m just glad we’re both okay,” karen said. you couldn’t understand how you had both been in the same situation and you could hardly function while she was here, bringing you home. how you had both seen that man get shot, how you had both been in that room-

she cleared her throat. “here, why don’t you give me your phone so i can give you my number. that way if you need anyone, you have me to text or call,” karen said.

“okay,” you nodded softly and gave her your phone, cracked from having been in your pocket.

“try to get some rest,” karen said after entering her number and turning to leave.

“i’ll try,” you responded politely, knowing just how unlikely that was. these past few days had been too much. with frank, with work, with this now too, you couldn’t take anymore.

“g’night,” foggy shouted as he climbed down the stairs with karen.

you didn’t even have the energy to respond.

you pushed open the door to your apartment, ready to collapse on the ground instead of attempting to get to your bed. it was all too much, you just needed to lay down for a while.

as you closed the door behind you, your back turned to the room, you heard a voice you never thought you would hear again.

“y/n,” frank said.

you whipped your head. and there he was, standing in the middle of the room waiting for you. expecting you.

“frank?” you questioned, knowing the answer, knowing he was there, right there.

“frank,” you said again, moving in closer, a slight whine in your tone.

“frank,” you said once more as he crashed into you, holding you together as you sobbed into him, as all of the pieces you were holding together while those nice people brought you here fell apart.

“oh y/n,” he said, pulling you impossibly closer, his jacket brushing against your tee.

“please,” you said, not even sure what you were asking for at this point.

“shh shh shh,” frank whispered, “it’s going to be okay, i’m here now, i’m here.”

you clung to him, the fabric of his coat bunched under your hands. he was here now. it would be okay.

“i won’t let them hurt you again, y/n. i swear,” he said.

you only sobbed into him harder.

hours could have passed, but you would have had no idea. all you could feel was him, his body holding you up. his presence keeping you safe.

“i’ve got you now, baby,” frank said, gently pulling you off of him to look at your face. his callused hands met your soft face, brushing away the tears that hadn’t quite stopped falling.

“let me see,” he said, grabbing a hold of your hands and wrists.

he inspected them, raw and bloody from the restraints.

he tutted. “what did they do to you?” he spoke more to himself than to you.

he brought you to edge of the sink, lifting you with ease onto the counter. he examined your knees while he had you sat up there. bloody with bits of gravel, he knew that cleaning those cuts wouldn’t be fun.

“i’ll take care of you, y/n. i got you,” he assured again, and all you could do was lean your tired head against his shoulder.

taglist:

@oliviajdjarin

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle imagine #frank castle fic #frank castle angst #the punisher #punisher #daredevil #daredevil s2 #matt murdock #the devil of hell's kitchen #karen page #foggy nelson #castle #kastle #mcu #david lieberman

[swan-of-sunrise]

The Angel of Hell's Kitchen

Summary: The office assistant for Nelson, Murdock & Page worries when her secret passion is discovered by her coworkers, but the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen shows her how much she’s loved for who she is.

Pairing: Matt Murdock X Reader, Franklin ‘Foggy’ Nelson X Marci Stahl

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: I’m excited to share this one-shot with you because it’s my first time writing for Matt Murdock! Thank you so much for reading, I hope you all enjoy!

The Angel of Hell’s Kitchen (Fanfiction Masterlist)

“Past due…past due…ah, a first notice!” Foggy glanced up from the stack of letters in his hands and grinned. “It’s always nice to have some variety, isn’t it?”

“Things’ll start looking up for us soon, Foggy,” (Y/N) promised, her happy mood unaffected by her friend and employer’s typical over-worrying; as the one and only office assistant of Nelson, Murdock & Page, she was allowed to indulge in her personal love of organizing and that morning, she was hard at work manually in-putting their next three weeks of appointments, consultations and court dates into their online calendar. “‘Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow. They toil not, neither do they spin-’”

“‘And I say unto you that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.’” (Y/N) looked up in surprise as Matt finished quoting the Bible verse, his brows rising in surprise over the rims of his red-tinted glasses. “Matthew 6:28. I never knew you were Catholic, Miss (Y/L/N).”

She chuckled. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Counselor Murdock, but I’m just a simple theatre nerd. It’s a verse used in the play Lilies of the Field, based off that 1960’s film starring Sidney Poitier. I played one of the nuns back when I was a sophomore in college; the habit was pretty uncomfortable to wear and my German accent was atrocious, but it was still a fun experience.”

“A fellow thespian!” Foggy exclaimed and Matt grinned widely. “I’m a theatre camp alumnus myself, and my performance in Pirates of Penzance is the stuff of legend. But this stays between us, okay? I don’t need it getting around Hell’s Kitchen that Counselor Nelson’s a reformed song and dance man.”

“Well, your secret’s safe with us, Jazz Hands.” Matt removed his fingers from his refreshable braille display and did a decent impression of the dance move, making (Y/N) burst into giggles and his own smirk to widen at the sound. “Is performing onstage something you only did in college?”

“Yeah, I mostly did it during school but I still dabble in it from time to time; a lot of people I went to college with are up-and-coming directors and when they stage productions for potential investors or theatre owners, they give me a call to see if I’ll do them a favor and perform. They get a reliable cast member that knows how to follow stage directions, and I occasionally get to do something that I really enjoy.”

The lawyer shrugged a shoulder. “Sounds like a win-win to me.” It didn’t escape her notice that Matt’s attention was entirely focused on her while she talked and judging by the look on his face, he was truly interested in what she had to say; her face warmed and for a brief moment, she thought that he caught her involuntary reaction before inwardly rolling her eyes at her paranoia. “Have you performed in any shows recently?”

(Y/N) nodded and across the long wooden table, Foggy helpfully called out, “She just nodded, buddy.”

“O-Oh, my God, Matt, I’m so sorry, I just-” She stopped herself when she spotted Matt’s amused grin. “You really get a kick out of people making complete asses of themselves around you, don’t you, Counselor Murdock?”

“I think I’ll plead the fifth on that one, Miss (Y/L/N).” They both chuckled and (Y/N)’s heartbeat quickened when he reached over to rest his hand on hers. “Seriously, though, no harm done.”

Smiling to herself, she twisted her hand around to give his a gentle squeeze, distracted for a moment by his handsome features before recalling what they’d been discussing. “I’m, um, I’m actually in rehearsals for a show right now. One of my old classmates is staging a production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream at an old theatre on West 42nd, set to her own original songs inspired by 90’s Punk-Pop; it’s a pretty different take on the classic play, that’s for sure, but it’s been a really fun time so far.”

“I’m glad that you’ve been enjoying yourself.” Matt withdrew his hand from hers to gesture in Foggy’s vague direction. “You’ll have to tell us when it opens so we can come and support you and your friend.”

(Y/N)’s heart dropped in her chest. “Oh, it’s not really that big of a deal-”

“Of course it is! Our wickedly-talented office assistant is starring in a production that might end up on Broadway someday,” Foggy insisted with a grin. “If we see it now, we’ll actually be able to afford the tickets without selling off a kidney first!”

“As usual, Foggy makes an excellent point.” A smiling Matt chimed in. “Personally, I look forward to hearing you sing; you have such a pleasant speaking voice, so I’m sure that you’re a naturally-gifted singer as well.”

Despite her discomfort, (Y/N) felt herself flush at the lawyer’s sweet compliment but she was careful not to let him distract her. “Really, guys, it’s nothing serious; it’s only three performances, the theatre’s got a bad draft and there may or may not be rats living in the walls. Besides, I’m the one who’s in charge of your calendar and the three of you are practically booked up to your eyeballs next month.” She abruptly stood and crossed the room to grab her coat and scarf, a forced smile on her face as she quickly donned the garments. “I’ve gotta go mail some letters and pick up the Bulletin, so I'll see you guys later!”

She hurried out of the back room of Nelson’s Meats before either of them could reply and didn’t release the breath she’d purposefully been holding until she made it outside the shop. It wasn’t that she didn’t want her friends and colleagues to know about her passion for theatre, but she preferred to avoid their inevitable disinterest and the unavoidable heartbreak she’d suffer as a result. Not that I’m not already used to this particular brand of heartbreak, she thought with a small sniffle, blinking away the prickle of tears in her eyes before starting down the bustling sidewalk.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The door closed behind (Y/N) and across the table, Matt heard Foggy sigh and toss the mail he’d been sorting through onto the tabletop. “She was lying just now, wasn’t she?”

Matt bit his lip and nodded. “Yeah, she was. She didn’t look embarrassed, did she?”

“No, no, but she almost looked panicked at the thought of us going to see her perform.” The chair legs slid across the wood floor as Foggy stood up and began to pace beside the table. “And towards the end there, right when she was putting on her coat and scarf, it looked like she was about to-”

“Cry,” Matt finished for his best friend, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “Yeah, I heard her sniffle and smelled the tears right when she stepped outside the shop.”

“Show-off. It’s like she wants us to see her perform but at the same time, she doesn’t. Weird, huh?”

While they both pondered the strange behavior of their friend and office assistant, Matt couldn’t help but think back to her enchanting laughter and the way her heartbeat elevated when he rested his hand on hers; her skin was soft beneath his fingertips and for one blissful moment, he could imagine moving his hand to cup her cheek and leaning forward to capture her lips in a slow and passionate kiss. His crush on their firm’s sweet office assistant had only grown in the six months she’d been with them, but he held himself back from fully indulging in them out of fear of overstepping his boundaries; he was technically one of her bosses and after the near-disastrous relationship breakdown between him and Karen, he was more than a little wary of entering into yet another office romance. But thanks to his heightened senses, he was starting to suspect that she had some feelings of her own that she was doing her best to bury for the sake of their workplace environment.

Matt had slipped his earbud back in and resumed going over court documents on his braille display when their law firm’s third partner walked into the backroom of Nelson’s Meats, balancing a to-go beverage tray in one hand and a stack of manila envelopes in the crook of her arm. “I motion that Foggy handles the drink orders from here on out.”

Matt chuckled. “I second the motion.”

“Hey, we all voted on a rotational schedule fair and square,” Foggy defended as he stood and took the drinks from Karen’s hands. “It’s not my fault that drink orders coincided with your case researching, Miss Page.”

“And yet, it somehow still feels like it is, Counselor Nelson.” Karen set her armful of full envelopes onto one of the empty chairs and practically collapsed onto another, sighing in relief when she slipped off her high-heels and took a long drink of her coffee. “Did either of you boys happen to upset (Y/N) today? I bumped into her on the way here and she looked a little bummed out, but I couldn’t figure out why.”

“We noticed that, too. One minute we were talking and having a good time, and the next she was practically sprinting to get out of here. She was telling us about the show she was set to star in for an old friend, but she started to panic when we mentioned coming to see her perform,” Matt explained, pausing his text-to-speech software and angling his head to the side as an idea came to mind. “Karen, could you do me a favor? Can you do a little digging and find out which theatre on West 42nd is putting on a production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream next month?”

“There’s no need; I already know which theatre you’re talking about. It’s Pearl Theatre, 555 West 42nd Street, and the show’s scheduled to run from April 8th to the 11th.” Foggy whistled low and Matt’s brow shot up in surprise. “There’s a flyer posted at the coffee shop, and I always take a look at the bulletin while I wait for our order.”

Matt could sense Foggy holding in his laughter as he replied, “See, isn’t it a good thing you’re the one who goes and gets the coffee the most?” Ignoring the middle finger that their partner threw up at him, Foggy stretched his arm out and nudged Matt’s hand with the edge of one of his case files. “I can tell that something’s going on inside that ridiculously good-looking head of yours, so spill.”

“Well, I was thinking it’s about time that Nelson, Murdock & Page take their first corporate outing in honor of their hard-working office assistant,” He replied with a growing smile. “Who’s in?”

He could hear Karen tap her coffee against his in a subtle toast before taking a sip. “Why the hell not? I’ll work on getting us tickets when they go on sale.”

“I’ll get Marci to help me pick out a nice congratulatory bottle of wine-”

“And I’ll be in charge of getting her a bouquet of flowers.” Matt leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “And remember, not a word of this to (Y/N), okay?” His business partners assured him that they’d keep quiet and as the three of them began planning their surprise, he hoped that his suspicions about the root of their lovely office assistant’s conflicted feelings would be forgotten the moment she spotted them in the audience.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Curtains up in five, people!”

“Thank you, five!”

The green room bustled with anxious energy as performers frantically finished getting ready and nervous techies checked that each person’s mic was properly secured. (Y/N) watched the chaos unfolding from her stool in the corner, sipping her lemon and honey tea and smiling to herself as she was reminded of her first few years of performing; she’d always been an anxious mess on an opening night but now that she was older, she was able to do a much better job of hiding it beneath a façade of confidence.

“Like chickens with their heads cut off, huh?”

(Y/N) chuckled as Marcus, the man acting opposite of her Titania as the Fairy King Oberyn, leaned a shoulder on the wall next to her. “I heard that some of their acting professors are in the audience and they can be quite the ball-busters when it comes to adapting Shakespeare.”

“Poor kids. Must be why I just caught one Googling a Wiccan good-luck spell in the bathroom, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him that it was a Power of Three spell from Charmed.” After another reminder of the impending start of the show, Marcus took a moment to adjust his suspender while she tossed out her to-go cup and slipped her high heels on. “I’m surprised you’re not as jittery as the rest of our cast tonight, seeing as your friends are in the audience.”

Her head instantly shot up and her eyes widened in shock. “What?”

“Yeah, there’s four of ‘em; two men and two women, and one of the men is blind. They were the first ones seated when the house opened, and one of the women’s been describing the stage and sets to the blind guy. The front-of-house manager heard ‘em mention your name while she helped seat them.”

Marcus was soon called away for a last-minute mic-pack battery check and (Y/N) was left speechless by his surprising news; how the hell did they even find out about all this, she asked herself with a mixture of awe and wariness, a little unsure of how to handle the unexpected turn of events. A spur-of-the-moment decision led her to climbing the steep staircase up to the theatre’s proscenium lighting crawlspace, and she peered through the wire-covered opening at the audience down below. Sure enough, Matt, Karen, Foggy and his fiancée Marci were seated in the center row; the happy couple were excitedly perusing the show’s program together while Karen talked to Matt, and (Y/N)’s heart thudded in her chest when she spotted the beautiful bouquet of wildflowers resting on his lap. As she watched, Matt angled his head upwards and his lips curved into a smile, the action nearly making her wonder if he somehow knew that she was there, but she quickly brushed the impossible thought away.

Although a part of (Y/N) still couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing, tears began to prickle in her eyes. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had come to see her perform or shown any interest whatsoever in her passion for theatre and as she carefully made her way back down the steep staircase, she vowed that she’d give her friends and her secret crush the performance of a lifetime.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Okay, ‘kay, one last toast before we head home so I can hurl all this up before passing out!” The group winced and groaned in disgust at Foggy’s bluntness but raised their bottles and glasses as he addressed (Y/N). “Thanks to you, I was able to witness the epically-unholy union of Shakespeare and 90’s Punk-Pop, and now my life is complete.” Marci loudly cleared her throat and they all snickered as Foggy quickly corrected himself for his amused fiancée’s sake. “Almost, it’s almost complete. Anyways, you were fantastic and while I don’t always understand theatre in my older age, I sure as hell respect the people who do. To (Y/N), our amazing office assistant and an even cooler thespian!”

“To (Y/N)!” They loudly tapped and clinked their drinks against one another before downing the last of their alcohol. After the show, they’d all gone to meet (Y/N) at the stage door and after gifting her a bouquet of flowers and a nice bottle of wine, they invited her to join them at Josie’s for a nightcap; one drink turned into many, many more, with their group even clearing out the celebratory bottle of wine, and they’d only decided to call it a night when (Y/N) reminded them that she had another night’s performance and a Sunday matinee to rest up for.

Matt could sense the blood rushing to (Y/N)’s cheeks and grinned when she ducked her head in embarrassment. “All I can say is thank you. I’ve never had…well, I’m not used to performing for friends, so I really can’t thank you guys enough for finding a way to be there tonight.” Matt detected the slight catch in her voice before the others applauded her, and a part of him knew that there was something more significant behind it than gratitude, but he decided that he’d wait until they were alone to ask her about it.

When their drinks were finally gone and even Josie’s patience with them was starting to wear thin, they all stumbled out of the bar and headed home; Karen decided to share a cab with Foggy and Marci while Matt offered to walk (Y/N) home. He opted to hold the hand she generously offered him instead of unfolding his white cane, smiling to himself as they swung their joined hands back and forth while they slowly walked down the deserted sidewalks and desperately trying to hide the smitten blush that threatened to appear on his inebriated face.

“While you were in the bathroom, Karen mentioned that you were the one in charge of getting the flowers.”

“Yep,” Matt replied, popping the ‘p’ at the end of the word and chuckling at her giggle. “Picked ‘em out all by myself; the florist tried talking me into buying roses, but these ones smelled much nicer to me.”

(Y/N) brought the bouquet up to her nose and inhaled their scent. “You made a good call, Counselor Murdock. I’ve always preferred the scent of flowers over the look of ‘em, and I’ve always thought that roses are far too cliché.”

“Well, I’m glad that you approve of my decision, Miss (Y/L/N).” He could sense the blood rushing to her face and hear the stutter of her heartbeat, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to stop walking and lean in for a kiss. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“You just did, but I suppose I’ll be okay with another one.”

Shaking his head at her silly answer, Matt bumped his shoulder against hers and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Why were you so dead-set against us seeing you perform? You’re an amazing actor and an even better singer, so I don’t really get why you wouldn’t want any of us coming to see you do something you so obviously love.”

“Oh. Well, um…” (Y/N) swallowed thickly while Matt patiently waited for her to answer. “I’ve performed almost all my life, and certainly for as long as I can remember. But the older I got, the less my friends and family seemed interested in supporting my hobby; coming to see me perform was more of a chore to them than an honor. The first time I got to play a lead in high school, I saw my dad asleep in his seat and my friends texting in the back of the auditorium. My junior year boyfriend missed my first Shakespearian monologue because he snuck out to go watch our school’s basketball game. Everyone I invited to my last high school musical made excuses for why they couldn’t come to any of the performances, and I missed our entire cast party because I was crying my eyes out in a Denny’s bathroom. Performing all throughout college was the highlight of my life, but I didn’t have anyone to share it with because by that point, I knew that asking anyone to come would only lead to unnecessary heartache. So when I saw you guys sitting smack-dab in the middle of the audience, I-I just…I couldn’t believe that you not only remembered a conversation from over a month ago, but you all took time out of your busy schedules just to come tonight.” Her hand tightened around his and her voice waivered as she added, “No one’s ever been that considerate to me.”

Matt’s heart nearly shattered at the hurt he could detect in her words and without a second thought, he stopped walking and let go of her hand to gently cradle her face between his own. “(Y/N), you deserve to have people around you who care about your interests. They’re a reflection of who you are, after all. All those people – your friends, your family, even that asshole boyfriend – they should be kicking themselves in the asses right now; they let an angel slip right through their fingers because they were too self-absorbed to appreciate her the way she deserved to be appreciated.”

“Do you…? You really mean that, don’t you?”

With a small smile, Matt reached down for her free hand and held it flat against his chest, directly over his heart. “I’m a good Catholic boy, remember? When we call people angels, we tend to mean it.” She exhaled a quiet laugh, and his thumb caressed the warm apple of her cheek as he sensed she had something she wanted to say. “What is it, angel?”

(Y/N)’s heart hammered away in her chest at his use of the pet name and after a long pause, she softly asked, “Do good Catholic boys generally give angels a celebratory kiss at the end of one of the happiest nights of their life?”

Matt nervously wet his lips in anticipation. “Only when angels ask them nicely.”

“Please, Matt…will you kiss me?”

He slowly leaned in – taking a moment to appreciate the sound of her quickening heartbeat, the feel of her warmth beneath his palm and the floral scent that engulfed his senses – and with gentle restraint, he finally brushed his lips against hers in the sweetest of kisses. It started out soft and undemanding, with the both of them attempting to respect the other’s boundaries, but it quickly devolved into a heated embrace when (Y/N)’s fingers curled around his tie and tugged him closer. He let out a deep groan at the sensation and she smiled against his lips as he wrapped an arm around her waist to hold her against him.

While the Devil and the Angel of Hell’s Kitchen kissed on a deserted sidewalk in the middle of the city they both cherished, a familiar Shakespearian line would come to mind…

“Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is wing’d Cupid painted blind…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: A lot of this was based on my own personal experience growing up as a theatre kid and if anyone out there can relate to this, just know that your people are out there and when you find ‘em, I promise that they’ll love you for exactly who you are 💖 Thank you all so much for reading and commenting, and I hope you enjoyed my first attempt at writing Matt Murdock!

Fanfiction Masterlist

Marvel Taglist: @brooke0297

All Works: @crowleysqueenofhell @momc95 @groovy-lady​

#the angel of hell's kitchen #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #daredevil x fem!reader #matt murdock #daredevil #netflix daredevil #foggy nelson #karen page #marci stahl #marvel cinematic universe

[j-eryewrites]

Til We Meet Again

MAIN MASTER LIST | REQS OPEN

Word Count: 6.k

Pairings: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Matthew Murdock

I wrote this out of my current/renewed Matt Murdock obsession. I most definitely could write a part 2/entire series based on this one-shot, so if any of you would like to encourage my current crush and desire to write about Matt, plz do...XD

“Come on, babes,” begged Cameron. Her wrist bobbed up and down to pump the mascara wand in and out of the bottle. She pulled the wand out, covered in the black cosmetic. The dark shade was a stark contrast to her vibrant lime-green hair. A spontaneous decision of the past week. A spontaneous decision of many that decorated her body. 

Y/N chuckled as she watched her best friend put on her mascara face: Jaw slack and open showcasing the tongue piercing from two months ago, her coffee-coloured eyes wide, and eyebrows raised impossibly high. 

“It’s your last chance to have real fun. Hon,” chimed Cameron. She turned around and leaned against the counter in the bathroom. Her bright orange slip dress turned sour the longer Y/N looked at it. “You’ve never been to a college party. Hell, you’ve never been to college. You’ve spent your entire life dancing and now you’re flying off to Copenhagen.” Cameron waved her free hand up and feigned dramatically. “You’ll leave me behind as you dance among the stars. Forever forgetting your best friend.” 

“Drama queen,” giggled Y/N. “I won’t forget you. How could I ever!” Y/N jumped up from her seat on Cameron’s bed matching Cameron’s dramatic energy. 

Cameron chuckled and swirled around to look back into the mirror. “Can you see my spanks?” Cameron asked as she lifted the dress lightly giving way to the neon blue shorts underneath. 

“Nope,” Y/N said entering the bathroom. She began to peruse Cameron’s makeup bag. Her nose scrunched up as she looked at the lipstick colours her friend had. 

“Ooh! Sex on the beach! My favourite colour.” Cameron exclaimed and she snatched it from Y/N’s hands. 

“Sex on the beach? Really?” 

“It’s a beautiful colour, babes,” Cameron said with a smack of her lips. She offered it to Y/N. “Wanna try it?” 

Y/N looked up from the brilliant yellow lipstick with a quizzical expression on her face and shook her head. It was too bold for her. The boldest shade Y/N had ever put on her lips was black and that was for her role as the Black Swan in her ballet school’s production of Swan Lake. 

“I’ll stick to chapstick, thanks.” 

“Your loss.” Cameron hummed. The woman began to check herself out in the mirror. She pursed her lips and popped her hip to the side. “How do I look?”

“You look like a slushy,” Y/N replied bluntly. 

“Perfect, Babes!” Cameron blew Y/N a kiss. “That’s what I was going for. Everyone loves a sexy slushy.”

Y/N giggled at Cameron’s comments. The giggle turned into a laugh which spread to Cameron. 

 “Okay, chica, be honest,” Cameron said, collecting herself. “From a scale of the Goonies to Dirty Dancing, how sexy am I?”

Y/N looked her friend up and down. “Depends on what shoes you’re gonna wear.” She replied. 

Cameron chuckled and ran into her room. She swung open her closet doors and pulled out two pairs of shoes. One pair was her party tennis shoes; white vans with beer stains. The other was a pair of six-inch black heels, the ones she wore to her pole dancing classes. 

“Okay,” Y/N said. “If you go with the vans, then you’ll be a Top Gun sexy and if you go with the heels you’ll be a Rocky Horror Picture Show kind of hot.” 

A wide grin flashed on Cameron’s face. “This is why you’re my best friend, babes.” Cameron looked between the shoes and settled on the heels. She tossed the tennis shoes into the closet. “Rocky Horror Sexy it is,” she winked. 

Y/N smiled as her friend put on the heels. Now, Cameron stood an inch taller than Y/N, something Cameron took pride in. 

“Your turn honeybuns,” Cameron sang. 

Y/N shook her head. “I’m not going, Cameron. I have an international flight tomorrow and I’m going to need all the sleep I can get. “

Cameron began to whine. Her eyes fell and widened to a size that would make a cartoon character jealous. “Please?” 

“Cameron…” Y/N said warningly. Her face betrayed the determination in her voice as she smiled at her friend's antics. 

“We can get Wendy’s...AND” Cameron began. “You can pick which songs we listen to on the drive over to the party AND back.” 

Y/N dropped her head back with a sigh and looked up at the ceiling. She groaned and rolled her head around to back at Cameron and her puppy eyes. 

“Fine, I’ll go.” 

Cameron squealed and jumped up and down. Her hands clapped loudly as she had just received the best news of her life. 

“I have the perfect dress!”

“No…” Y/N began but Cameron had already shoved a mesh, basically see-through, dress into Y/N’s hands. “I’m not wearing this.” 

Cameron frowned. 

“Cam, there is no way in hell, I’ll be wearing this. Besides, I have my own clothes.” 

Cameron sighed as Y/N showed her friend the light blue slip dress she had packed. It shimmered in the moon on a dark night. It was beautiful and definitely something one would not wear to a college party–a college party at a frat house. 

“You’ll look like a mother-fucking princess. Babes,” Cameron whines, “we’re supposed to look like whores together.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes. “I refuse to wear the dress. It’s either I look like a princess, or I’m not going.”

Cameron growled and then caved into her friend’s request. Y/N smiled as she changed into the dress. Her soft hands ran over the silky dress. She turned around to show Cameron and her friend smiled.

 “I take it back. That’s Dirty Dancing hot, chica.” Cameron commented. 

Y/N smiled and looked in the mirror. She really did look beautiful. “Nobody puts Baby in a corner,” Y/N winked. 

“Speaking of, baby.” Cameron chimed. “You need some makeup with that outfit. Ooo, and a fun hairdo!” 

“Cameron…”

“I wasn’t asking.” Sensing her friend’s reluctance she continued, “I promise I won’t give you crazy makeup. Just enough to highlight your beautiful face and I’ll, ooo, curl your hair. You wear it in buns all the time. It’s time you show off your gorgeous locks.”

Y/N smiled at her friend and then hopped onto the counter. Y/N's legs swayed as Cameron brushed her cosmetic products on her friend’s face. The two of them chatted, belting songs, and having some pre-game drinks. The two of them felt as if this night would for sure be a night to remember. 

___________

“Come on Matt. It’s gonna be a night to remember. Finals are over. One more year of college done. One step closer to Nelson and Murdock,” Foggy raised the hand that wasn’t wrapped around Matt’s shoulder to motion to the imaginary business sign. “Nelson and Murdock,” Foggy whispered for dramatic effect. 

Matt laughed at his friend’s actions. Clearly, Foggy did a little bit too much pre-partying in their dorm. The blond was already leaning on Matt making it hard for him to walk straight on the sidewalk and not into the busy road. 

“Alright Foggy, a night to remember,” Matt smirked, sensing Foggy’s grin growing wider. 

“That’s the spirit.” Foggy slapped Matt on the shoulder and brought him in for a side hug. The two of them laughed as Foggy narrowly missed walking straight into a street lamp. 

“Now, Matt.” Foggy stepped in front of Matt and placed his hands on Matt’s shoulders. “I want you to find a girl and let out some steam. You’re too stress-addicted for your own good.”

“Foggy…” Matt began before Foggy shushed him. 

“No, listen to me Murdock,” a smile grew on Foggy’s face. “You’re gonna have fun tonight. Promise  me.” Foggy stuck out his pinky finger to Matt. 

“I promise Fog,” Matt said. Foggy smiled and grabbed Matt’s hand. His pinky finger pinched Matt’s and the promise was made. 

It wasn’t long before Matt and Foggy heard the sounds of the party. Music was blaring from the speakers scattered all over the lawn and house. People were laughing, screeching, dancing, chatting, and drunkenly singing. Matt’s nose scrunched up in disgust; those weren’t the only sounds he could hear. Matt could hear the buzzing of the house lights, the heartbeats of a few hundred people crammed into one space, the way the floor thundered and echoed footsteps, the bass of the song, the stickiness of the beer stuck to the bottoms of people’s shoes. His head already began to hurt and he knew it was worse when he’d be in the crowd. He’d smell, feel, hear, and taste everything. How could he not? 

“London Fog! M&M! You made it,” a young man exclaimed. He ran over to Foggy and Matt gave big bear hugs. Matt offered a smile to try and hide his disgust from the man’s smell. Matt could smell his cologne, and traces of a woman’s perfume. He could also smell that the man before him had five cups of an alcoholic mixture: Beer, vodka, and Smirnoff. He could also smell the cigarette he had taken a few hours ago. 

“How’s it been, Bryan?” Foggy asked, his words already slurred as they rolled off his tongue.

“It’s been a fucking riot. Cameron, man…she’s something.” Bryan’s face flushed red. “The dress she’s wearing.”

“I can see,” Foggy noted. “Man, that’s a bright orange.” Foggy opened his eyes wider and then blinked. “Now my eyes hurt. Too many bright colours.” He turned to Matt. “Only Cameron could pull off lime green hair, neon yellow lipstick, and an orange dress.” 

Matt smiled and nodded his head. He remembered Cameron from one of his Spanish classes. She had walked into class the first day, took one look at the board, and just left. He couldn’t recall her coming to a single class yet she had one of the best grades. A chaotic genius to say the least. Before he knew it, Bryan had wrapped an arm around Matt’s shoulder. The other arm was linked around Foggy.  Then Bryan guided the two of them into the party. 

The minute Matt stepped through the door and into the heart of the party, the pounding in his head amplified. Bryan had dragged them to the kitchen and handed him and Foggy a red plastic cup. The alcohol mixture Matt had smelled earlier. Foggy lifted his head back and downed the drink in one go. Matt just took a sip before placing it back down on the counter. 

Foggy had spotted Marci on the dance floor and excused himself. Bryan got dragged by another group and began taking shots in the dining room. Matt, on the other hand, began to swerve his way through the crowd. Everything became muffled and Matt had a hard time differentiating between his senses. He occasionally bumped into party-goers, their alcohol-ridden scent sticking to him. He needed to get out and away from the party. His pace picked up and he manoeuvred through the crowd colliding with more people. Suddenly, he came to a stop. There was a room next to him. It was quieter than the rest of the house and from what he could tell, no one was in there. He fumbled for the doorknob and burst into the room. A bathroom, he soon realized, as he closed the door. He found his way over to the sink and began to wash his hands. He splashed the cold water on his face. His senses finally came back to him and the thick walls of the bathroom tuned out the noise. 

That’s when he heard it. It started out with a heartbeat. He could tell it was young and healthy as it thumped to a graceful melody. Then he heard the rustling of satin on the skin. It sounded so soft as the fabric ran up against the skin. Afterwards, there was a smell. It was so sweet, the smell of rain and lavender that was not too overpowering. It reminded him of Hell’s Kitchen in the spring when the church would grow lavender in the community garden. The smell carried through the air and Matt froze. The water from the sink was still running. He wasn’t the only one in the bathroom. 

___________

“Umm,” the voice mumbled. He tilted his head in the direction of the sound. It came from a young woman. “Hello.” She said. 

Matt turned around. His cane and glasses were fully on show. “Hello?” He responded. His head moved side to side. He already knew where she was, but she didn’t know that. 

“Oh, you’re…”

He smiled softly. “Blind. Yeah.” He shrugged. 

The two of them stood there not knowing what to say. Matt suddenly remembered where they were. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize…” he began to apologize. 

“You’re fine. I was just stepping away from the party for a moment. I was just about to go back out.” She motioned to the door before realizing Matt couldn’t actually see her. Her head smacked her forehead. “I just pointed to the door…I’m gonna go,” she mumbled. 

As she walked past Matt he noticed the absence of alcohol. She hadn’t drunk anything and the sound of her heartbeat made Matt think that she didn’t want to rejoin the party anytime soon. Matt reached out to stop her. 

“You don’t have to go. I’m just taking a breather like you.” 

She turned around and smiled at him softly. “No, it’s alright. Plus, I’m sure my friend is wondering where I am right now.” She turned away and turned the doorknob. Only that it didn’t turn. Instead, the knob detached from the door, clattering against the stone tile of the bathroom floor. 

“Fuck,” cursed the woman. 

Matt moved his head in her direction. “What happened? I heard something bang against the floor.”

“Uh…” the woman faltered as she bent down to grab the door knob. She picked it up, walked over to Matt, and placed it in his hand. Her fingers brushed against his hand and Matt felt as if his hand was afire. He ran his hands over the cool door knob and then sighed. He smiled to himself at the gesture. 

“Yeah, the door knob fell off. Which is just great.” She muttered. Her voice grew tight and nervous. 

Matt placed the door knob down and then remembered the water in the sink was still running. He quickly turned it off and tried to offer the woman some words of comfort. “I’m sure someone will come looking. Right? You said your friend was…”

“I lied. She’s busy with some guy and drunk off her ass. She wouldn’t be able to help us. You?”

Matt shook his head. The woman sighed. “My friend was already wasted when we got to the party.”

The woman groaned and slid to the floor. She tucked her knees in close. “Perfect. I’m gonna miss my flight tomorrow,” she muttered under her breath clearly so Matt wouldn’t hear, but he did. 

“I’m sure everything will be alright.” He crouched down to the floor and leaned up against the sink cabinets. 

The woman’s heartbeat continued to beat faster and Matt was sure she’d die of a heart attack if he didn’t find some way to calm her down. 

“I’m Matt,” he blurted out. He felt his face heat up as the woman replied back. 

“Y/N.” 

“What year are you?” He found himself asking. 

“Huh?” Y/N replied. 

Matt cleared his throat. “What year of school are you in?”

“Oh,” Y/N said, “I’m not a student. Just a friend visiting a friend for a bit.”

Matt tilted his head at the words. “You don’t go to Columbia?” 

“Nope,” Y/N muttered. 

“Then why are you here at an end-of-year frat party?” Matt asked with a teasing tone. He could already hear her heartbeat returning back to its tranquil melody. 

“Funny story, actually.” She chuckled.

“I have time.” Matt smiled. He flashed his signature grin. The one that had girls fawning over him. 

Y/N blushed at his smile and began her story. She told Matt how a few months ago she auditioned for the Danish Royal Ballet company. They had gotten back to her saying they wanted her to join them. It was a dream come true for her. Matt intently listened to her love for dancing and how she immediately accepted. Instead of college, she chose to dance and now as of tomorrow afternoon, she’d be flying to Copenhagen. When she broke the news to her family and friends, they all demanded to have her visit. One of which had been her childhood best friend, Cameron. Matt chuckled and told her he knew Cameron. They shared a few laughs about the funny memories Matt and Y/N had of the young and chaotic woman. 

“So now you’re visiting Cameron,” Matt repeated. 

Y/N nodded. “Yep, she’s the last one that I was going to visit before flying to Denmark.” 

Matt had extended his legs out. His feet occasionally grazed and bumped into Y/N’s feet. Every time they did, he’d fight the blush that tried to appear on his face. 

“For a last hurrah, Cameron suggested–dragged me to this party. To be honest, I don’t like parties that much. It’s too loud, there are harsh lights, and the smells are just…”

“It’s overwhelming.” Matt finished. He knew the exact feeling. 

“Yeah.” Y/N’s voice grew quiet. “Now, your turn Matt. What’s your story and how’d you end up locked in a bathroom with me?” Y/N jokingly asked. 

Matt let out a laugh. Y/N smiled and giggle along. Matt felt a wave of relief fall over him. It had been a while since he really laughed like that: tears formed in the corner of his eyes, his breath cut short, and he clutched his chest. 

“My story’s not as…” Matt closed his eyes thinking of the right word, “interesting as yours.”

“That’s alright,” Y/N smiled, “I happen to like mundane stories. Besides, I have time.”

Matt smirked at the familiar phrase he muttered before, which now fell from her lips. He opened his mouth to tell his story when he heard the shuffling of the dress Y/N was wearing. With a huff, she stood up from her seat and strolled over to Matt. She plopped down next to him. Their legs brushed against each other. Matt couldn’t help but flash a smile in her direction. His eyes concealed by his red-tinted glasses fell just below the woman’s chin. 

“Did you just…” he chuckled.

As if she knew what he was asking, Y/N replied. “I can hear you better this way. You know, the party is quite loud.”

Now their legs were lying against each other. No longer shy, Y/N found herself scooting closer to Matt. Her hand snaked underneath his arm and then held it close. His hand playing with hers.

Matt just smiled. The blush on his face was now a similar shade to the scarlet lens that adorned his face.

“Sure, sweetheart.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Anyways, I’m a law student here at Columbia. Before that I grew up in Hell’s Kitchen,” Matt told Y/N.

She rested her head against his shoulder causing Matt to pause his story. He took a moment to calm his thundering heart. When Matt began his story. He was planning on just sticking to his college years. His childhood was a tangle of sombre memories: the accident, his dad, and Stick. But his lips betrayed him and Matt found himself telling Y/N about his dad and growing up at the orphanage. A story he didn’t divulge to just anyone. But Y/N wasn’t anyone. She was the woman who was locked in the bathroom with him. The ballerina who’d be flying across the world tomorrow. She was the woman whose heartbeat was helping distract him from the chaos outside the bathroom door. She was Y/N. He’d only known her for a few hours, but Matt couldn’t help but think he’d known her his whole life. An idea that Matt cringed at. This wasn’t him. He was a flirt and a playboy, but for the woman in the bathroom, he’d be anything. 

Soon, Matt was talking about the accident. The struggles of having your entire world stripped away in an instant. A good deed that was rewarded with eternal darkness. He told her about Nelson and Murdock, the law firm he was going to start with Foggy.

Together the two of them sat on the bathroom floor, sharing their lives and souls with one another. As Matt talked, Y/N listened. She rubbed his hand when he felt his throat clench. She just listened and Matt felt safe. He had no clue why, but he felt safe. Y/N was safe. In their tiny enclosure of a bathroom in a frat house, the two of them felt safe. 

___________

The safety that the bathroom provided the two of them shattered at the sound of a hard object that collided with the window in the room. Matt and Y/N jumped to their feet at the sudden bang. Y/N’s grip on Matt’s arm got tighter before she let go. His side was now freezing cold without her warmth. He tilted his head to listen to her as she trod carefully over to the window. Her body froze and her heart had a quick uptake.

“Everything alright?” Matt asked in concern. He took a step forward before he heard her shuffle forward and then came a loud creaking sound. 

Y/N’s smile turned upward as she looked out the open window. A cheer left her lips.

“Ah ha! Fuck yeah.” 

Matt’s ears perked up. “What?”

“Why didn’t I think of this before?” Y/N scolded herself.

Matt chuckled. “Mind telling me what your amazing discovery is?”

“The window.” 

“The window?”

“We can get out through the window. We’re on the first floor. It’s a bit of a jump, but we can get out!”

Matt’s face fell. “Oh, that’s great.” He smiled again when she looked back at him. A part of him wanted to stay in the bathroom forever. Just him and her. Matt and Y/N.

Her feet hit the ground and she walked back over to Matt. Her soft hands reached out and guided him over to the window. She lifted his hand up and to the window ledge. 

“Do you think you can get up?” She asked.

Matt turned to her and smiled. “Of course, sweetheart. I’m a big boy.”

Y/N’s face flushed bright red at the comment. She was happy that he couldn’t see her right now. Matt knowingly smiled at her blush. He knew full well the effect his words had on her. Matt handed her his cane which she took and held close. Her free hand held out to help him up. Then he pulled himself up onto the ledge and swung his legs around. His knees bent the minute the tips of his feet hit solid ground. Standing up straight he turned around to the sound of Y/N following him out the window. With a yelp, Matt stuck out his hand to hold her steady as she braced herself from the jump. She muttered a quick thanks before dusting her dress off and handing Matt back his cane. She felt like a teenager sneaking out of her house. 

The two of them stood underneath the window, unsure of what to do. Inside the house, the party was raging on. Matt could hear the numerous beverages being poured, the music tuned up louder, and people’s clothes grinding against one another. The more his senses took notice of it all, the more he just wanted to get out of there. He wanted to leave the party behind, take Y/N with him and enjoy the rest of the night. 

It seemed as if Y/N was thinking the same thing. 

“Wanna get out of here?” Matt asked at the same time Y/N suggested that they leave. The two of them smiled at their synchronization of thoughts. 

“Where are you staying?” He wondered. He took a step in her direction. 

“At Cameron’s, in the dorms.” She replied. 

“Perfect,” Matt whispered. “We’re in the same building then.” He extended out his arm to Y/N and smiled. It was more for his benefit than hers. He wanted to hold her close, closer than they had been, sitting in the bathroom, a few moments earlier. There was something about Y/N that intoxicated him. Her scent, the sound of her heartbeat, the way she smiled at his attempts at flirting, all were like a drug that Matt could never get enough of. His face dropped slightly remembering that she was leaving tomorrow morning. She didn’t live here and wasn’t a student at Columbia. There was a part of him that wished she was. A part of him wished he could wake up tomorrow and be around her again–hear her heartbeat, feel her smile, smell her faint perfume, hold her close, but that wasn’t so. For now, Matt would settle on the now, making most of the time he had left and maybe if he’d play his cards right, he’d get to kiss her. 

“Mind if I walk you back?” 

Matt heard the young woman next to him stifle a giggle before linking her arm with his. She leaned into him, her calming scent washing over him. “I don’t see why not.” 

___________

The walk back to the dorms was long, Y/N noted. Matt had chosen to take her the scenic route not that she minded. She enjoyed the walk back. The two of them chatted about life and never seemed to run out of things to talk about. She cherished the way Matt offered his jacket the minute a chill crept up her spine from the cold night. Matt loved the way Y/N pulled him a little bit closer the longer they walked. His warmth seeped into her side. To others who passed them by, it seemed as if Matt and Y/N were one person, walking so close they shared the same breaths, their hearts beating in sync. 

Matt’s pace slowed as the familiar scents and sounds of the dorms swarmed his senses. He felt his hand hold Y/N a little bit tighter, pulling her back to walk at his sloth-like pace. Eventually, his feet betrayed him and he found himself entering the doors of the building. Then the elevator. Then the hallway where Cameron’s dorm was located. Then just outside the dorm. 

Matt sighed softly at the loss of Y/N by his side. She had turned away from him and opened the door to Cameron’s dorm. Her back facing him. Her hand was still on the doorknob. Matt’s breath got heavy as he heard how fast Y/N’s heart was beating. She was waiting for something. 

Suddenly she turned around and gasped slightly at the proximity she had to Matt. Matt smiled at the sound. Her scent now filled his nose. His senses were only focused on her. Her heartbeat, the sound of her breath, the way her hand ran against her dress in an attempt to soothe her nerves, the blood rushing to her cheeks, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. Her lips. Matt could tell they’d be soft. He wondered how’d they’d taste and how’d they’d feel against his. 

Matt couldn’t stand it any longer. The two of them had been dancing around all evening. The hand of the clock was moving closer and closer to her departure time. He reached up a hand to cup her cheek, the other tickled her neck, coming to rest just above her heartbeat. Matt leaned in, but she stopped him. Her hand was firm on his chest. 

“I can’t.” She whispered. 

Matt frowned and pulled away. Was he reading this all wrong?

“Matt,” Y/N reached out. She pulled him back to her. 

“I have this policy.” She explained. Matt found his hands finding a place at her waist. His grip was solid. 

“A policy?” Matt asked. His brows raised. 

“I…,” She shook her head. “I don’t kiss and say goodbye.” Her voice got quiet and if it wasn’t for Matt’s hyper-hearing, he was sure he would have missed it. 

He smiled softly he opened his mouth to reply, but Y/N continued on.

“I leave tomorrow morning and I don’t know if I’ll ever be back in New York. Hell, I don’t even know if I’ll be back in the States for that matter.” Matt felt her head fall against his chest. 

“But,” she said softly, “If I ever find you again in the future. If our paths somehow cross–like I need a defence lawyer,”

“Why? Do you plan on getting in trouble anytime soon,” Matt jokingly commented. 

 Y/N chuckled. The nervousness in her muscles relaxed. 

“Or if my ballet company tours or something like that,” She continued. She lifted her head off of Matt’s chest and cupped his face in her hands. She leaned in close and brushed her nose against his. “If you aren’t taken and vise-versa, if we remember each other, remember this…”

“That’s a lot of ifs,” Matt whispered. His nose nudging hers. 

“I know, but if destiny, fate, whatever is on our side, then I promise to give you a kiss.”

Matt’s ears perked up at those words. 

“I’ll give you a kiss. A real kiss,” She repeated. 

Matt laughed. “A real kiss?”

He felt her smile. “Yeah, not some peck on the cheek bullshit. A real kiss like how they do it in the movies.” 

“Okay,” Matt said. He wished as he held her close, that he could say something poetic and what not but words failed him. 

It was Y/N who pulled back first. Her hands fell from Matt’s face, and she stepped out of his hold. She turned away and whispered goodbye before closing the door to Cameron’s room. Matt sighed and stood outside her door taking in the promise she had made him. Forcing his mind to commit every last detail about her to memory. He’d be damned if he’d ever forget such a wonderful woman–Y/N. 

Finally, he stepped away and walked down the hall back to the elevators. He had only made it a few steps before the door flung open and Y/N rushed out. She ran to Matt. He turned around to meet her when he felt a warmth on his cheek. She had kissed him. Kissed his cheek. 

“There,” She stated. “A little something to mark the promise.” 

Matt smiled and reached out to her, his hand grasping her forearm. He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. His lips a promise to find her. A promise to never forget. He lingered close to her. His soft lips against her flushed cheek. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” 

“Goodnight, Matt,” Y/N whispered sweetly. “Find me in the future.” 

_________

It was 3.26 in the morning when Foggy stumbled into the dorm. His drunken figure ran into the walls and tripped over shoes laid out across the floor. The noise from his entrance would have woken Matt from his slumber. However, Matt was awake. His sightless eyes gazed up at the ceiling. His mind was in a trace with a prayer on loop. 

“Fuck, sorry Matt.” Foggy apologized. His voice was hoarse from the long night of alcohol and impromptu karaoke. 

Matt turned on his side. “It’s alright, Foggy.” 

“So…” Foggy began as he marched to the bathroom and hastily brushed his teeth clean. The bottle of tooth past lay untouched next to the sink. “Was it a night to remember?”

Matt couldn’t hide the large and bright smile that appeared on his face. Matt’s mind flashed with the memories from the evening, distracting him from answering Foggy’s question. Puzzled by his friend’s silence, Foggy stepped out of the bathroom. A toothbrush stuck in his mouth, and hands on his hips. 

“You didn’t…” Foggy exclaimed the words sounding mushed with the toothbrush in his mouth. He quickly took out the toothbrush and discarded it on the side of the sink. “Who is she?” 

Matt sat up and looked in Foggy’s direction. The pungent smell of the party that followed Foggy didn’t bother Matt as he thought about the woman of the evening. Part of him wanted to keep the events of tonight a secret. He wanted to keep Y/N–the memory of her to himself. However, Matt’s mouth opened up and betrayed the inner thoughts of his mind, and he told Foggy everything. He told Foggy about being locked in the bathroom. The way she sat down next to him. Her leg brushed against his. He told Foggy about how he could have talked to the woman for hours and that he had told her so much about him some of which Foggy had never known. The smell of her perfume, and the sound of her voice and when she laughed. Matt smiled as he relayed their escape from the bathroom and the way she held on to him the walk back drawing him closer as the cold night went on. Matt told Foggy of his reluctance to let her go, and how he wished she were a student here. That he could be with her again and again, but that it couldn’t be. Later today, she’d be on a plane far away from New York. Far away from Matt. 

The room grew silent, and Matt just sat on his bed. Unsure of the thoughts and feelings dancing around his head. 

“What is it?” Foggy asked. He got the sense that there was something more to Matt’s mysterious woman of the evening. “A ground-breaking kiss? Mind-blowing sex?”

Matt just shook his head. Foggy gasped. 

“I kissed her cheek,” Matt replied. He had said it as if it was the best thing that had ever happened to him. A tiny kiss on the cheek. A kiss she had ran after him for. 

Foggy feined dramatically. “A. Kiss. On. the. Cheek.” 

“No, Fog…” Matt began. His head shook at Foggy’s statement. “We made a promise.”

Foggy stopped his dramatic acting and hopped on his bed. “A promise?” He repeated sceptically. This was his friend, Matthew Murdock, the campus playboy and heartthrob, and here he was a complete sap over a girl he had only met a few hours before. It didn’t possible to Foggy.

“If we find each other in the future, remember this night, the promise, then she’d give me a real kiss.”

“A real kiss?” Foggy chuckled. 

“Like one of those in the movies.”

Foggy’s eyes narrowed at Matt. “She’s your Cinderella,” he blurted. 

“My what?”

“Your Cinderella. The promise, AKA the shoe. The party tonight, the ball. Love at first sight You get my gist.”

“I’m not in love with her Fog it’s just…”

Foggy rolled his eyes. “She’s your Cinderella,” Foggy stated firmly. “You’re a complete sap over a woman you’ve only known for a few hours. Therefore, CINDERELLA.”

Matt smiled. “My Cinderella,” he repeated to himself.

“Now, you just need to go all Prince Charming and scour the kingdom for her,” Foggy mumbled as he fell back in his bed and snuggled into his blankets. 

Matt smiled at the thought and laid back down. His eyes raised up once again to the ceiling. Y/N, he thought. Matt felt like a sinner as the most beautiful sound he had ever heard left his lips–her name. He said it over and over again. A silent prayer to God that he’d meet her again in the future. He’d find his Cinderella and claim his kiss. He’d remember her: her scent, the melody of her heart, the touch of her skin and her lips, everything. Soon Matt felt his eyelids fall closed as midnight dreams overtook him. All he could think about was her. Y/N. He’d find her he just knew it.  

__________

Tag list: @bartokthealbinobat

Comment below if you would like to be added to the tag list...or if you want more to the story :)

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#Matthew Murdock #daredevil #daredevil x reader #Matt murdock x reader #college!matt murdock #college!matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x fem!reader #daredevil x you #daredevil x y/n #use of y/n #fanfic #oneshot #possible series #mcu x reader #mcu #mcu fandom #daredevil mcu #mcu daredevil #mcu fanfiction #foggy nelson #marci x foggy #columbia university #hell's kitchen #new your city #reader is a ballet dancer #original character #chaotic best friends #one bed trope? nah locked in a bathroom

[whatitshouldvebeen]

Gordon Ramsay x Reader Slow Burn Dom/Sub FF

Yes, I'm serious. It has about a million reads on assorted fanfiction websites, so trust me and them when I say you'll love it

Click for the previous chapter

Monday, June 24th, 2013

The other contestants and I gather at the entrance to the airport, waiting inside for further instructions–Monday airport traffic is no joke. Cars line up outside and throngs of people weave their way through each other, toting suitcases. That's not to say the airport lobby of Los Angeles is not stunning; the tall glass windows allow for the beautiful day's sunlight to shine through.

I take this time to examine my competition. There are fifteen other chefs aside from myself that are going to be competing against each other this season–eight men and eight women. Most of them are sitting in the airport lobby chairs, idly chatting to one another. I stand to the side of the chairs, leaning on the handle of my rolling suitcase. Thinking back to past seasons, I wonder which chefs were put here to stir up drama. My wondering is cut short with an uncanny interruption.

A woman with bleached blonde hair, dressed in a low-cut floral top and a short white skirt gathers everyone's attention. Or at least, the attention of the people who weren't already staring at her nearly exposed breasts.

"Oh my GOD can you guys believe it!" She bounces in place, her boobs jiggling, "I'm like, actually here. Of all the applicants I got picked! I can't wait to see which of you makes it to the final five with me."

She pauses, then grins wickedly like the Cheshire cat.

"Should be real easy, my competition doesn't look very... fierce." Her eyes quickly flit about the contestants, stopping on me for what seems to be a second longer than the others.

One of the few to not be at a loss for words is a middle-aged, stout, and bald man who scoffs at her.

"This is Hell's Kitchen, not Keeping Up with the Kardashians. Unless you keep your cooking skill in those tits then I doubt you'll make it to the final five with that self-absorbed attitude. This is a team game."

His voice is commanding, and surprisingly the blonde looks sheepish at being talked down to. By the time that a tall man in a suit approaches us, she hasn't managed to come up with a snarky retort.

"Hell's Kitchen contestants?" He questions the group. After seeing our collective nods he continues. "Please follow me." He turns and walks towards the sliding glass doors, exiting the airport.

Our bustling group happily follow him to a sleek black limousine with the initials "HK" branded on the side parked outside the loading gate. We all look giddily at each other. Excitement buzzes through my body as I lock eyes with the girl next to me, her brown curls bouncing in place as she jitters. We both give a shy grin, recognizing the other's excitement. As we approach the limo, the driver opens the door and lets us inside.

The limo is plush and cozy and there is an icebox with a bottle of champagne situated in the middle. The driver introduces himself as Paul and passes out champagne glasses to all of us before he takes his seat at the front and begins the drive to Hell's Kitchen. A few eyes lock onto the champagne bottle, but no one seems to have the confidence to crack it open.

The girl who had stood next to me earlier slides in next to me with a breathless, "Hey!"

"Hi!" I grin. "I'm (Y/N), and you?"

"Taylor." She returns the smile. She has a string of piercings up her ears, some hoops and some studs. Her hazel eyes shine with joy, the browns nearly matching her light tan skin tone.

"Are you as nervous as me?" I ask, my heartbeat in my ears as we pull up to a red light.

"Totally. This doesn't feel real, I've never been in a competition, much less on TV. I know my bro won't let me live it down if I don't do my best, so I'm trying to ignore my jitters. Can't let nerves interfere with my work." She lets out a puff of air and glances around the limo.

One of the younger men; green-eyed, thin, with messy ruffled brown hair, takes hold of the champagne bottle. "We can't let this go to waste, guys!" He says, opening it swiftly and pouring glasses for everyone with finesse. His winning smile is contagious as he confidently leads us all in a discussion of where we'd come from to get here, and cracks a few jokes. Soon enough all of us are smiling and laughing.

After about thirty minutes of driving the lights of the tinted window limo go out, leaving us in partial darkness. The chatter dies down and everyone looks around confused. A small TV flips open above the window between the driver and us contestants. On that TV is none other than Chef Ramsay, wearing his striking white head chef jacket with his arms crossed over his chest in his signature pose.

"Good afternoon, Hell's Kitchen contestants! I hope you all are enjoying yourselves on your trip to Hell, because things are about to get a lot less luxurious. As soon as you arrive, I expect you to hop in the kitchen and begin work on THE signature dish of yours that you are," he adamantly shakes his fist, "MOST proud of." The passion in his eyes burns in a way that can be felt through the screen. All of us are silent, at rapt attention. I feel my heart flutter at how fervently he encourages us. If he's anything like this in person, it'll be easy to be motivated by his words alone.

"You have forty-five minutes from the moment you arrive to complete your signature dish. The red and blue team will be competing, so be sure your dish impresses if you want your team to win. I will meet you all as soon as you've finished. Good luck, contestants." He turns his back to us as the screen folds up and the lights turn back on.

We are silent for a few seconds when the woman sitting next to the screen says, "Gee, he sure is intimidating."

She is so small that–when squished into a stretch limo with fifteen other people–she may as well get lost in the cushions. Her curly red hair frames her pale white face, and she has freckles across her nose that stand out when her skin drains of color, as it is now.

The man to her left, somewhat built, brown-eyed and black-haired with a buzz cut wraps his muscled arm around her shoulder, rapidly bringing color to her cheeks.

"Chin up Red!" He exclaims. "Ya wanna be brave when you talk to Ramsay. Even if you're scared, don't show 'em that ya are."

She nods delicately, curling her shoulders in to avoid touching his arm as much as possible. He doesn't seem to notice and leaves it around her for the duration of the ride.

#writeblr #writers and poets #fanfiction #writing #writers on tumblr #gordon ramsay #gordon ramsey #xreader #x reader #oc x canon #cooking #hells kitchen

[thequeenofuselessinformation]

Tanked Thursday for Matt Murdock

Text cr. @Relatableisaiah on IG/TikTok

#matt murdock #matthew murdock #daredevil #marvel's daredevil #charlie cox #mcu #marvel edit #marvel's defenders #marvel memes #nyc #hells kitchen #lawyer #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil imagine #daredevil incorrect quotes #defenders #defenders imagine #matthew murdock imagine #matthew murdock x reader #depression time #give my boy some serotonin #charlie cox x reader #charlie cox imagine #the hand #mcu imagine #incorrect mcu quotes #mcu matt murdock #mcu memes

[demigoddessqueens]

I’m so glad I finally watched the Marvel Defenders series

#tvedit #marvel #disney #daredevil #marvel defenders #matt murdock #devil of hell’s kitchen #daredevil x y/n #daredevil x you #daredevil x oc #daredevil x gender neutral reader #daredevil x reader #matt murdock x vigilante!reader #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x oc #matt murdock x gender neutral reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #whump #charlie cox

[thelastsirenssong]

Bakugou never tells you he loves you- you find out when he loses his wallet.

He is responsible, you could even argue borderline neurotic, he has a tendency to scorn you when you lose something, an annoying habit of finding whatever it was in a place you say you swear you double checked with a disapproving scowl. But he's lost his phone around you recently, twice, found both times underneath you in between your couch cushions, and you'd snorted at him as you placed it in his impatient hands, wondering aloud what he was so busy with that he lost it, not losing your opportunity to dig at him in retaliation for all the shit he'd say to you when you lost anything. And now this, his wallet going missing as he was just about to leave for his own apartment, city lights glowing outside in the early night. It would be 10 p.m. soon, pushing at the limits of his schedule. You find the wallet in the kitchen behind your electric kettle while he checks your bathroom, and you remember him having growled in frustration upon his arrival, shuffling in through your doorway after a long patrol to see you heating up water for another instant ramen dinner. You've got shit in the fridge, he'd said in a disapproving snarl, even as his hands were full with bags- and his wallet- and he'd leaned over you to turn off the kettle. That, you reason, must have been when he dropped it.

You turn the thing over in your hands, black cloth exterior feeling like kevlar. Instinct says to call out to him, to save him the time in your bathroom, but curiousity tugs at you and pushes through your fingers to pull at the little zipper. You hear him drop something heavy in your bathroom with a loud curse, and you scowl, and let your fingers gently betray a small unspoken trust, pulling the zipper open.

"What kind of secrets are you keeping in here, Bakugou?"

Thirty thousand yen in bills, a couple hundred more in coins, his sleek agency card, a piece of paper with some kind of business name and time scribbled hastily onto it, one of Jirou's branded guilar picks, the receipt from his purchase at the conbini down the street, his debit and credit cards. And his ID card, half obscured by ash stained plastic. You squint, unable to make out his name, or face, and you shrug with a little smirk, digging your fingers into the pocket to extract what feels like three cards, but one of them goes slipping from between the other two, and you try to catch it, but it flutters to the floor, and you are met with a familiar face.

You. It is a picture of you. You're not even sure where the image is from, you have half a mind and a skipping heartbeat to think that he took the picture himself and printed it out, because you're caught off guard in it, it's blurry and objectively looks terrible, but those are the long, tall windows of his apartment behind you in the picture, and the flimsy thing was in his wallet, folded into a tiny square that was tucked in between his state issued ID and his hero license. It's then that he comes loud around the corner of your kitchen, his IDs in your hand, and he freezes. You look up to him, and the air con unit in your living room starts up.

"I uh. I found it."

"Yeah, I see that. Where?"

"Behind the kettle."

"Tch."

"Your hero license is going to expire soon, you know."

"Yeah, I know."

He stares at you, and you know by now the twitching of his hands at his sides means he's nervous, wanting to be responsible and not get his sweat anywhere other than his jeans. You glance down at the images of him, grainy pictures that still get across the ever present crease in his brow.

"Why're you lookin' through my shit?"

"I was curious."

"Give it." He extends his hand out, and you hand it over, along with his cards, and you notice his fingers, as he pinches the cards and slides them against one another, and you notice the change in his expression, however minute. The fear that fills his widening eyes, the way his jaw clenches, the curl of his nose as he slides the cards together again, and then he checks a pocket, and then another, feigning innocence. He looks at you through his hair, and you swallow, the intensity of his gaze suddenly something that brings the prickle of sweat to your own palms.

"You steal from me?"

"All the money's there, Bakugou."

"Yeah. Guess it is."

He puts the cards back, slowly, eyeing you all the while, and you watch as he zips the wallet up, his face unreadable as he stares at the compact case. The silence tense, the air con unit sputtering as he searches your face and finds nothing, and he seems to come to some kind of peaceful conclusion before turning on you, about ready to stalk out of the kitchen. You bend, then, down to snatch the picture from the floor at the same time that he whirls on you, and now you're both caught in a moment you should have avoided, you should have been wiser to have evaded, to have been more fearful of him, to avoid touching what wasn't yours. But you are bent at an awkward angle, picture in your hand, looking up at him as he stares wide eyed down at you, and your face grows hot in an instant, your mind flitting to the cut of your shirt before you rise up with urgency, pocketing the piece of paper with a clearing of your throat.

"Fuck is that?"

"Nothing. Trash."

Wrong words to utter, you realize it with such speed it makes your head spin when he looks instantly furious, his hand clenching at his side before he seems to deflate like a balloon just as quickly, all ire going out of him and replaced by something somehow heavier, and softer, and you recognize the fear on his face again as he scans you, as if he'd hurt you with something and was assessing the damage. You replay your own words in your mind, and his hands are so lax by his sides, like a fighter relenting to a defeat, and you feel your body fill with panic, fear of becoming his enemy in his perceived ring overwhelming, and dreadful.

"It's actually, uh, it's. Here."

You fish into your pocket, embarrassment burning on your face as you scramble to hold the image between your index and middle finger. He glares at you then, and as sure as you are that he thinks you are his foe now, you are equally sure you must quell his anxiety, to assure him that there is no battle to be lost, and you extend your hand out, and hang your head.

"I want... I wanna be there. It's fine." The picture of you faces up, and he eyes it, and the gentle press of your fingers on either side of it.

"In my wallet." You feel your heartbeat thrum across every inch of your skin, the low gravel of his questioning tone almost taking your knees out from under you, and you don't dare move, gazing up at him as he watches your face with humor that befits a child, this gentle humiliation feeling like a retribution, and you sulk bitterly with the thought that maybe he was your enemy after all. "Yeah." He reaches out then, and you shake, as his fingers graze yours, your picture slowly making its way back into his grasp, but his thumb lingers on the pads of your fingers for too long, and you shiver with cold, and heat, as he pulls his wallet from his back pocket, slow, with deliberation, and you hold eye contact as he places the image in its rightful spot.

"Maybe next time don't go throught my shit," he goads, wallet still in his hand, and you breathe again after what seems like an eternity with a scoff. "Fuck you, maybe next time don't lose it in my apartment."

"'S not my fault your place is a shithole."

"It's not my fault you keep showing up here."

"I'll take this picture out," he threatens, looking down at you with ire, his hand smacking his wallet against the opposite palm, and you smile, wide and brazen and victorious, your chest puffing with something unfettered, with the aid of adrenaline. "You wouldn't dare."

He makes a face, one so unfamiliar that you almost miss it before it disappears, the curious tilt of his brow, the pull at the corners of his lips, the softness of his jaw before he turns, hand reaching behind so that you watch the wallet return to the safety of his back pocket, his other hand clenched tightly at his side.

"Whatever."

#bruh #wtf happened how did this happen what have I done #this just came pouring out of me I. aight #soul crushingly slow burn Bakugou for the win amirite #PAIN!!!! LMFAO #like as cute as this is mf if you don't destroy me and this kitchen right now #but sigh. he is annoying #did I proof read this? hell no LMFAO #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader

[woefulmachiavellianism]

Obvious Chapter 1

Fem!reader x Matt Murdock

Warnings: angst, assault, violence, vomiting

It was late. You were the last one at the office, again. You didn't mind. The quiet helped you finish your charts. You couldn't stand going home knowing that if they weren't done, that these people couldn't get the care they need. After submitting the final file you closed your laptop and began shutting things down for the night. 

You locked the door behind you and started off. You had parked in the garage over on W 58th. The night was warm but dark. There weren't many streetlights in this part of town. You heard the wailing of sirens not too far off. You pulled your hood up and hiked your bag higher on your shoulder. 

As you walked, something felt off. It was quiet. Too quiet. The normal malingering and chatter of the street was absent. You picked up your pace, hoping you'd be fine as long as you kept your hood up and your head down. 

You began to hear quiet, almost inaudible footsteps behind you. You kept your speed but turned your head just enough to get a glimpse. A man, maybe 10 yards behind you, was following your exact same path. His gaze drilled into your back. You whipped your head forward again, picking up speed. The way you were walking would've looked comical if it weren't in fear for your life. 

You crossed the street, trying to put distance between you and your stalker. However, as you passed a small alleyway, you caught in your periphery another menacing silhouette moving towards you.

"Oh," was all you thought. The realization washed over you. This was a trap, they'd just been waiting for someone to spring it. Your mind raced: looking for alternate routes to run, trying to remember your bit of self-defense classes, thinking through all the items in your bag for a makeshift weapon.

You were so lost in preparing mentally that you almost hit the final goon, who stepped out in front of you. The trap was sprung. 

The one in front of you spoke, "What's someone like you doing alone on a night like this?" You heard the footsteps of the two coming up behind you, boxing you in 

You didn't answer and tried sidestepping to get around him. Over one of the buildings, you could see the soft glow of lights from the parking deck just one street over.

The man mirrored your movements, blocking your path once again. He smelled like bathroom cologne and Marlboros. "Don't worry, we'll get you where you need to be."

It was as if time had stopped, or at least slowed. This was it, the horror story we're all told growing up: men snatching you in the night. You could no longer hear the distant sirens over your own heart. You started to think of the people in your life, friends, and family, and how they'd never know what happened. 

"No," you said to yourself. You had to make it out of this, or at least try. They deserved that much, you deserved that.

The thug in front of you began to take a step forward, and like that time started again. You gritted your teeth and ducked down, swinging your bag with all your might. It cracked into his side, knocking him off balance. As soon as his mass was out of your path, you lunged forward into a sprint. This was your chance, your only chance. 

You made it a couple of paces, thinking you might have escaped before you were yanked backward by your hood. All the air left your lungs as your body slammed into damp asphalt. The two goons previously behind you had caught up and were now standing over you. Before you could even catch your breath or your thoughts, you were being lifted off the ground by the front of your shirt. You struggled to get a firm stance, flailing your legs as you cried out. 

One of the other ones, the one you knocked over, grabbed at your hair, wrenching your head back until your feral eyes caught his. "You're lucky you're worth a small fortune, bitch, otherwise I'd just kill you now."

You continued to cry out and flail, even after the third one placed a gag in your mouth and began to bind your hands. 

-Clang-

You didn't have time to process the sound before hitting the pavement again, head slamming against the road. You clawed at the ground, trying to push yourself away. Your vision was swimming from the fall, but through the waves and spins, you could make out a small rod of metal on the ground. It took you a moment to realize that it was lying in a pool of blood next to the captor who'd been holding you up. Crawling slowly you began to see more. There was a fourth man, dressed in black, a mask covering…his eyes. No, that couldn't be right. He was taking on the other two men with frightening speed. He had just thrown one to the ground by his arm, bones audibly cracking. 

The third assailant dragged himself up from where he must've been knocked down. You don't remember that happening, but now he was behind the man in black. In the darkness, you could barely make out the glint of metal in his hand. You tried to warn the man in black, a guttural croak leaving your lips. His head flicked in your direction but it was too late. You heard the sickening sound of ribs fracturing as the assailant's fist made contact. 

A silent scream left your body as the last hope of your escape fell to the ground. You watched in horror as the last thug standing made his way over to you. Grabbing you by the hair, he yanked you onto your knees. The look in his eyes had changed, a fit of frustration and rage bubbling just beneath the surface. His free hand pulled back so you could clearly see the brass knuckles adorning his hand. 

Your eyes clenched shut as you awaited the impact of his fist, but it never came. Instead, you felt your hair released, barely catching yourself before your upper half slammed into the pavement again. 

Above you, the thug was now sputtering for air, a chain wrapped around his throat and armed hand. You looked across to see the place where the masked man had fallen was now empty.

Time seemed to slow again as you watched the assailant above you begin to struggle less and less. Despite the lack of lights, you could make out that his face was no longer a healthy color. It was sickening. Despite what he intended to do to you, bile began to rise in your throat as you watched his face contort, his lungs begging for air. It was a relief when his eyelids eventually began to droop, his body falling slack. As he dropped to the ground in front of you, your stomach betrayed you, your throat and sinuses burning as you heaved up what remained of your last meal onto the street.

Even after you were beyond empty, in every sense of the word, you couldn't move from the dry heaves wracking your body. It wasn't until the man in black wrapped a hand around your bicep and pulled you towards your feet that you could start to breathe. 

"Can you walk?" His voice was hoarse and low, vibrating through your bones as his breath skimmed your ear.

You attempted to nod in response but your head barely moved. Your muscles had begun to weaken quickly, losing the power of adrenaline had aided you.

His grip around your arm briefly tightened– a squeeze. You let your head loll back and forced your eyes to focus. 

The mask… had no openings for his eyes. There was no way he could see between the inky fabric and the shadow of the night. 

"Y-yes," it was barely a whisper. But his head cocked, conveying he'd heard.

"Two streets over there's a beat cop on the night shift. Head through the alleyway and flag him down. Your way is clear." With that, the grip on your arm and breath by your cheek were gone and you began to stumble your way through the night.

#matt murdock #daredevil #devil of hell's kitchen #matt murderdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x oc #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock smut #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #marvel's daredevil #marvel's defenders #foggy nelson #karen page #frank castle #billy russo #the punisher #elektra

[yarrystyleeza]

my dear yomna, congrats on getting through all your exams 🥳 you've worked so hard - please make sure to rest and take care of yourself now!

i'm very excited to read more of your writing - if it works for you, how about the prompt "reaching out to hold your hands, always" for matt?

❤️❤️❤️

Aww thank you, mindi, I assure you that I took well rest and good night sleep after all the stress I went through...

And, here it is, the little drabble I wrote...

Reaching Out To Hold Your Hands, Always.

Requested by @mindidjarin

(so my thoughts on this are college!matt with the ship dynamic: friends to lovers, enjoy! <3 )

Word count: the range of 725 words! Pure fluff! So tiny!!!

Being a second year law student, you had managed to make a good amount of college mates and friends through your first year, from lecture companions to the coffee break fellows to your dorm roommate — now that she's your friend, although you were a little bit of an isolation enthusiast, you still enjoyed having people around you and for you.

Especially that boy, you first met him on the "Legal Methods" class, when he had accidentally hit your leg with his blind aid cane, it didn't hurt that much, just an instant sting from the sudden whip on your skin, he apologized a ton, even tried to reach out for something cold to help calm down the bulge he had caused, then offered you a cup of coffee on his account, as an apology for what he did.

Matt was one of the smart kids in your class, if you didn't say the smartest, but he always listened more than participating in lectures, and helped you answer a lot of questions — as he always whispered them in your ears, so you tried to help him in exchange, walking him around halls and to his dorm room — because you usually attended classes together.

By time, you realized how awesome he was, he had this great sense of humor that always made you roll on the ground kicking your feet, — and how much of a gentleman he is, ever since the first time you met, he would always show up with mugs of hot cocoa or coffee when you're stressing in the library, sit down next to you and make you read the textbooks out loud for him until eventually you realize it wasn't a hard subject to understand.

You eventually realized how he was always reaching out to hold your hand, instead of simply wrapping his palm around your inner elbow, he always wanted to feel your hand in touch with his, and you'd be a liar if you said you didn't love to hold his hand, or how beautiful the warm feeling of his soft skin wrapping yours— is, but he was the one who always, always, reached out to hold hands; sometimes you brushed it off to his lack of sight and desperate need for awareness of his surroundings, but hell, if that was the case — you'd be over the moon, for you being his guidance.

But the way he held your hand always made the butterflies of your stomach grow all the way up to your throat, the texture of his manful yet delicate skin has always made an effect on your heartbeat, and whether it was cold or hot, sweaty palms or cold dry skin, you loved the fact that he never let you go, pressing the small of your hand into the pillows of his palm, — and you never wanted him to let go; because damn, he made you feel something you never thought you would, and made the three words, sparkles and butterflies surround your head the moment he walks in.

He cut off your train of thought, slipping his fingers between yours — gently, interlocking them tightly, and the butterflies started to crowd in your stomach again.

"You seem a bit lost, is it that class again?" he gently told with his deep soothing voice, you stuttered, the way you always did when he was around, "nah, it's just..." he stopped you unintentionally by holding your other hand as well, your face was flushed with blood, turning all red, "this." you declared, he raised his eyebrows high, followed by the warmest confused smile.

"I love this..." you gestured with your interlocked hands as you spoke, quieter this time, but he heard you well, and his grin widened enough for the crow feet to form on the edges of his eyes, "you do?-- I-- I thought you-- I thought you didn't like it when I hold your hand-- I--" he was a ball of blush and stress, "I do! And I-- I love you, too" you exclaimed, shutting your eyes, face all blushed and red, he froze, and a vague happy-surprised look grew on his face for a brief second, mouth slightly opened as if he was about to speak, only to lay a quick peck on your cheek, "I love you, too, angel... And I live for holding your hand."

Tell me what you think about this! And thanks for dropping the prompt! <3

Feel free to submit a prompt from this list in my ask (I only write for Matt Murdock)! <3

#yarrystyleeza #daredevil #mattmurdock #matt murdock #devil of hell’s kitchen #charliecox #human disaster matt murdock #matty murdock #matthew murdock x reader

[lillywillow]

The Devil’s Fever

Summary: When Matt gets sick, you’re there to take care of him

 Word Count: 1300

 Pairings: Matt Murdock x Reader

 Warnings: Mild swear words, mentions/ symptoms of flu

 It was inevitable that Matt would eventually get sick. He spent all night out in the cold, in the freezing rain, getting drenched to the bone, come home and not even changed out of his wet clothes. The morning after one such night, Matt could feel a little scratchiness at the back of his throat but decided to walk it off like he did so many things. By the time he got to the office, a headache had set in and his muscles were beginning to ache (although that could just be from the beating he took, he guessed).

 “Hey, Foggy,” Matt greeted, taking a seat at his desk. “What’s our first case?”

 “Our first case is… woah, you look like crap,” Foggy remarked, immediately once he saw Matt’s condition, the statement coming from a place of concern.

 It wasn’t just the bruises that caught Foggy’s attention but there was just something off about Matt’s general appearance that just wasn’t right.

 “Thanks, man,” Matt scoffed, shrugging off the comment. He knew Foggy meant well.

 “Are you sure you don’t just wanna stay home, man?” Foggy asked.

 “Nah, I’ll be fine,” Matt waved off.

 “Okay, but if you’re not feeling good, you can go home, okay?”

 “I’ll be fine, Foggy. Really,” he tried to reassure.

 Matt was not fine. As the day ticked by, he was getting progressively worse. Foggy was so wrapped up in his own work, he didn’t notice how bad his friend’s condition was. Matt tried to focus on his work but he couldn’t concentrate. His clothes felt like sandpaper on his skin and the world he could hear outside was practically screaming at him. By midmorning, he was beginning to sweat.

 “Morning, guys. I brought coffee,” you cheerfully greeted.

 “Thanks, Y/N. You’re a life saver,” Foggy grinned, taking the foam cup from your hand.

 You smiled back until you saw your boyfriend slumped at his desk and rushed over to him.

 “Matt? Matty, baby, talk to me,” you implored, carefully lifting his chin.

 His skin was hot and clammy.

 “’m fine,” he mumbled.

 You removed his glasses and looked into his eyes, seeing they were glassy and bloodshot.

 “You’re not fine, you’re sick,” you stated, helping him get up from his desk. “Foggy, I’m going to take Matt home.”

 “Go right ahead, Y/N. Hope you feel better soon,” Foggy said.

 Matt wanted to give some smart reply and to argue that he wasn’t sick but his head was too clouded to even think straight. He let you take him back home.

…

 As soon you arrived at Matt’s place, you got him changed into something more comfortable than his suit and got him into bed.

 “You get some rest and I’ll go out and some supplies, okay?”

 You were expecting Matt to argue and put up a fight but instead, he laid down and went to sleep which only proved to you how much this illness had taken out of him.

…

 By the time Matt woke up, you had gotten everything ready. You set up infusers with eucalyptus and tea tree oils to help him breathe a little better along with a humidifier. Setting the book you were reading aside, you looked in on Matt to see him sitting up. When he started coughing, you rushed over to rub his back.

 “Try to take deep breaths, love,” you instructed, giving him a box of tissues in case he needed to cough anything up.

 Once he had settled, you applied VapoRub to his back and chest. Matt groaned a little before leaning his head against the wall.

 “Thanks, Y/N,” he rasped. “But you know, you shouldn’t be here…”

 “I’m taking all the necessary precautions. Besides, someone needs to be here to take care of you and make sure you don’t run off…”

 “Really, Y/N? You’re going to give me a lecture now?”

 “Don’t get me started on lectures, Mathew. Not when you were going to give me one about taking care of you. Now, I have some medicine for you to take and water for you to drink. Make sure you drink all of it. You need to keep your fluids up,” you gently explained, giving him the items to take.

 Matt screwed his nose up at the taste of the flu meds but took them regardless and drank all the water in the glass.

 “Are you hungry at all or do you feel like you’re going to puke?”

 Matt gave another shrug. You couldn’t help but smile a little at the way he looked right now. When Matt was in court, he looked like an absolute rockstar and when he was fighting, he looked so fierce but right now, he was reminding you of a sad little boy.

 “How about if I set some crackers by your bed and you can have them when you want?”

 Matt gave an affirmative hum and laid back down. You left him be so he could get some more sleep.

…

 Throughout the day, Matt dozed on and off. Whenever he was awake, you made sure he was staying hydrated and that he was comfortable as he could be. By evening, Foggy came by to visit and to check how things were going.

 “How’s the patient?” he grinned.

 “Surprisingly compliant,” you grinned back.

 “Wow, this thing really has done a number on him, huh?” Foggy laughed.

 Matt could hear your conversation and would have rolled his eyes if he didn’t ache so much.

 “And how are you doing? You okay?” Foggy asked.

 “I’m a little tired but I’m okay although I don’t think I’ve eaten since this morning,” you confessed.

 “How about if I go get dinner for you while you continue to hold down the fort here? It’s the least I can do after all the coffees you get us. My treat,” he smiled.

 There was no arguing with Foggy as he left. You returned to Matt once more to get him to drink the tea you had made.

 “You know you can go home any time you want, Y/N…”

 “I know and I’m not. End of discussion. Like it or not, you’re stuck with me, pal.”

 Matt had to admire your stubbornness. It was a lot like his own. That was one of the things he loved about you.

…

 You took care of Matt long into the night, keeping a cool cloth on his forehead and checking his temperature regularly. It was the early hours of the morning when his fever finally broke. By then you were so exhausted, you just crashed on his couch. When Matt woke up, he was feeling much better and he knew he had you to thank. He could tell by your gentle breathing and steady heartbeat that you had finally fallen asleep. Smiling to himself, Matt set about making breakfast for the pair of you. He had it half done by the time you woke up.

 “Hey, Y/N. Sleep well?” Matt asked when he heard you stir.

 “I’ve had better… Been too worried about you… How are you feeling?”

 “Better than I was yesterday. I think I’ll take another day off just to be safe…”

 “Matt, you have no idea how happy I am to hear that,” you smiled.

 As Matt served up breakfast, he felt so glad to have someone like you in his life. If he ever became sick again, he knew he’d be okay as long as he had you by his side. Not that he would actively go out to get sick but it was one of the lesser-known hazards that came with being the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

#matt murdock #Matt Murdock x Reader #marvel #sick #The Devil's Fever #caring #fluff #daredevil #marvel fanfiction #marvel one shot #devil of hell’s kitchen #established relationship

[e-nonsense]

guess who has finally written chapter two of Duchess of Hell’s Kitchen. Gonna go over it, fix mistakes and you guys finally get to read the next part

#duchess au #Duchess of Hell’s Kitchen #bruce wayne x daughter!reader

[swan-of-sunrise]

My Current WIP’s!

Hi there! It’s been a while since I’ve given you a WIP update, so let’s do it now!  💖

1. Stumblin’ In (Steve Rogers X Reader): Yes, I finished Endgame but you didn’t think that was the end, did you? Lol the first one-shot in Book VII: Superhero Snapshots will be uploaded this Thursday! The one-shots will either be missing/deleted scenes from various Stumblin’ In books or a look into what (Y/N) and Steve are up to during Phases 4, 5 and beyond in the MCU, and this first one-shot will show us Steve’s POV of his run-in with (Y/N) at the Smithsonian during The Winter Soldier.

2. Spellbinding (Loki X Reader): I promise that I haven’t forgotten about Loki and the Cosmic Sorceress’ wedding, but it’s grown into a much bigger one-shot than I originally anticipated lol I’m working on it as often as I can, so I promise that it’ll see the light of day soon.

3. Tales from the SSR/Specs and the Flyboy (Jack Thompson X Reader): This is another case of a one-shot running away from me but believe me, once you read it you’ll realize why it’s taken so long to write lol

4. Taking Care of Business (Din Djarin X Reader): While I’m already writing new chapters for this, I’m going to wait until a few more episodes are out to begin uploading them because I don’t want my writing to conflict with the show. Don’t worry, you’ll definitely be getting your Din and Alor’ad fix soon!

5. The Angel of Hell’s Kitchen (Matt Murdock X Reader): My first Daredevil one-shot will be uploaded this Sunday!!! I’m very excited for you all to read it, so keep a look out for it then!

So yeah, that's pretty much it. Which stories or one-shots are you guys looking forward to? Let me know and don't forget to give my fanfiction masterlist a like, I always update it after posting a new work! (Sorry that this isn't a true sneak peek @mostclevermiss​ but I hope that you like it regardless, and good luck on your final!)

#stumblin' in #spellbinding #taking care of business #the angel of hell's kitchen #tales from the ssr #specs and the flyboy #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #loki x reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #jack thompson x reader #strategic scientific reserve #marvel cinematic universe #star wars

[chasingmidnights]

Panic! At the Disco

Title: Panic! At the Disco 

Summary: You suffer with them on a daily basis and when you say you’ve tried everything, you’re not kidding. Any little thing can set them off, your panic attacks. However, there is one thing that helps. Well, more like person. And that’s Matt Murdock. 

Warnings: underlying panic attack; Matt being a dick and not calling his friends; some angst; and I believe that’s it really. I apologize if I miss anything but you are responsible for what you read. 

Author’s Note: This one is kind of a short one but I still hope you enjoy it! 

Wordcount: 669

You were over it and you couldn’t deal with anything anymore. So, you called into work, claiming you were sick and stayed curled up under your thick comforter. However, it wasn’t doing the trick. You sighed and unwantedly climbed out of bed. You walked over to your closet, grumbling the entire time. You reached up to your closet shelf and yanked on your weighted blanket. This ought to help. You climbed back into bed and made a little den with the weighted blanket with just your head poking out. 

The reasoning for your most recent panic attack was none other than the person who can usually help you through them. Your best friend, Matt Murdock. Your heart was beating unevenly and you’ve tried every breathing technique possible. You see, it had been a couple of days since you’ve last heard from him, let alone seen him. And yes, you know all about him being the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. That’s what was worrying you. Usually by the next morning, he has called or left some kind of voicemail letting you know he was alright. There were also nights where he would let himself in and crawl into bed with you. You wanted nothing more than for him to wrap his big, strong arms around you to comfort you. 

You did everything you could to push away the thoughts, each one worse than the other. You tried not to think about how he might be dead in the middle of the street or in some god forsaken abandoned building. You pulled the weighted blanket closer to you, gripping it tightly. The tears that threatened to spill over, you tried to blink them away. But it didn’t work, they spilled over and freely slid down your cheeks. Where was he? You had already tried Foggy and Karen but they each said that they hadn’t seen him. Maybe he wasn’t dead. Maybe he had finally had enough of you and this was his way of showing it. Just completely ghosting you. A sob raked through your entire body and you pulled the weighted blanket even closer. 

As  soon as Matt stepped into your apartment building, he had to pause and listen. He could immediately sense that something was wrong. Honing in on just you, blocking everything else out that’s going on in the building. He tilted his head as he listened intently to your uneven heartbeat. Shit, he thought to himself. He knew exactly what was happening to you. Even though he was already in your apartment building, he needed to get to you quickly. He hurriedly folded up his walking stick and bolted up the stairs, taking them two at a time. When he got to your apartment door he fumbled with his keys for a moment until he finally got the right one for your door. He shoved the key into the keyhole, unlocking the door in the process before swinging the door open. Grabbing his keys and shutting the door behind him, he tosses his things to the side. He goes straight to your bedroom to find you. He climbs onto the bed and settles in next to you, instantly wrapping his arms around you and pulling you towards him. 

He begins to rub your back in a soothing manner before his calm voice fills your ears. “Sssshhhh, it’s okay. I’m here now.” 

You perk your head up as you wipe away the tears, both fresh and already dried ones. “Matty?” 

He gives you a reassuring squeeze. “Yeah, it’s me darling. I’m here now.” 

A sigh of relief left your lips. You could instantly feel your body starting to settle down. Your grip on the weighted blanket began to loosen as you got as close as you could to Matt. A weight lifted off of your shoulders when you felt him give you a gentle kiss on the side of your head. A small smile even creeped onto your face. Everything was going to be okay, for now anyway.

#tales of a whumpee newbie #writing challenge #october writing challenge #whumptober2022 #daredevil x best!friend reader #matt murdock #mcu hells kitchen #charlie cox #matt murdock one shot

[thequeenofuselessinformation]

Matt and Foggy's bestie quarrel, still a better love story than twilight

#sad boy hours #matt murdock #daredevil #quesadilla #marvel #mcu #marvel meme #mcu meme #daredevil meme #foggy nelson #matthew murdock #hells kitchen #nyc #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock x you #daredevil x reader #daredevil imagine #matthew murdock x reader #matthew murdock imagine #charlie cox #avocados at law #matt murdock x y/n #matt murderdock #spiderman nwh #she hulk #charlie cox x reader #mcu phase 4 #marvel's daredevil #marvel's defenders