#chef!matt murdock

[loveroftoomanyfandoms]

Cooking Up Love, Chapter 1

Pairing: Chef!Matt Murdock x F!Journalist!Reader

Rating: T (Not expecting the rating to go up, but this is me we're talking about, so who knows, lol.)

Story Summary: You are a journalist working for the NY Bulletin when you get assigned to interview multi- Michelin star chef Matthew Murdock, co-owner of Daredevil, the hottest new restaurant in Hell's Kitchen. Unfortunately for you, however, Chef Murdock isn't exactly trusting of journalists. As you work to peel back the layers of the closed-off culinary genius, you find yourself becoming interested in more than just his cooking.

Chef Matthew Murdock is struggling to rebuild his culinary reputation after being burned by his former flame, renowned food critic Elektra Natchios. So naturally, when a journalist from the NY Bulletin comes around for an interview he isn't exactly welcoming... Until he finds himself starting to fall for you.

Can two hearts learn to trust one another or will your budding romance go up in flames?

Warnings/Tags: Hallmark levels of fluffy, cheesy goodness (and speed that their relationship develops, lol), no use of Y/N, Matt is not a vigilante, more tags to come as the story develops

Word Count: ~900

A/N: Thank you to everyone for all the excitement over the teaser and I hope you enjoy my self-indulgent Hallmark rom-com chef AU!

And extra thanks to the ultra-talented @theradioactivespidergwen for the adorable divider she made for this! 🥰

Tag List: @yarrystyleeza @hailey-murdock

…And the secret to such a long life?

"Lots of love and laughter," Beth replied with a cheeky smile, "and just not giving a damn what other people think."

You nodded to yourself as you finished reading over your latest story for the New York Bulletin, the newspaper that you worked for. Perfect.

You sent it off to your editor, Mitchell Ellison, for final approval then looked up from your desk as you heard him call your name. "Yeah?"

"I've got a new assignment for you. Walk with me."

You scrambled up from your chair as Ellison passed by your desk, excited to hear what your next assignment was. "What is it?"

"I want you to interview the executive chef at this new restaurant that just opened. Apparently the chef is a big deal in the culinary world."

Your smile fell. You were hoping for a good investigative assignment this time, not another fluff piece. "But Kelsie covers the food and restaurant beat."

"Yeah, well, Kelsie is out sick with food poisoning -- and before you say anything, yes, I do realize the irony." Ellison sighed as the two of you entered his private office. "I really need you on this one -- apparently the chef doesn't usually do interviews but his business partner promised us an exclusive, and besides, you're the best reporter I've got. You'd really be saving my ass here."

You folded your arms and looked at Ellison pointedly. "If I'm the best reporter you've got, then you're gonna start paying me like it. I want a raise." 

Ellison narrowed his eyes at you. "What kind of raise are we talking about here?"

You did some quick mental math. "Twelve percent."

Ellison balked. "Twelve? Are you insane? We could maybe do six."

You shook your head. "Ten, plus I want to move to Lauren's old desk by the window."

After Ellison remained quiet, you shrugged. "You know, maybe I should call that person from the Times back about the position they offered me..."

You turned to leave.

Ellison groaned. "Okay, okay, wait, fine. You've got a deal."

You turned back and shook his hand. "Okay, so who am I interviewing?"

Ellison picked up a sheet of paper and handed it to you. "Guy's name is Matthew Murdock. He's the owner and executive chef of Daredevil, just opened up on 44th."

You scanned the name and address. "What's my deadline?"

"Two weeks -- we need it ready to run in the New York Restaurant week edition."

You nodded. That was pretty tight, but doable. "So when's the interview?"

Ellison coughed. "In 30 minutes."

You looked at him incredulously. "30 minutes? I have zero time to do any research or prepare any questions!"

Ellison shrugged. "If anyone can wing it, you can."

You shook your head and turned to exit his office once again. "You're lucky I'm so good, Ellison!"

You hurried back to your desk and typed "Matthew Murdock chef Daredevil NYC" into your search engine, eyebrows raising at the photograph that popped up. Chef Murdock stood in front of Daredevil, arms crossed and lips turned up into a smirk. He had dark, wavy hair and was wearing a red chef's coat with black trim and round sunglasses with red lenses. Damn, he's hot. 

You quickly made a few notes based on his (very brief) bio on the Daredevil website before dashing out of the office, praying that you would make it to the interview on time.

"You did what?" Matt hissed as Foggy Nelson, his business partner and sous chef, stood in the doorway of his office.

"Scheduled you for an interview with the food writer from the Bulletin," Foggy replied. 

Matt shook his head. "You know I don't do interviews. Not with wannabe food bloggers, not with TV reporters, not with writers for culinary magazines, and certainly not with food critics for newspapers."

"I don't think she's actually a food critic, she just writes for the food section of the newspaper." Foggy huffed out a breath. "Come on, Matt, you know we need the publicity. The opening hasn't gone as well as we'd hoped and if we have too many more slow nights we're gonna already be in trouble."

Matt scowled. Unfortunately, Foggy was right -- business had been way slower than they had hoped in their first month of opening and a front-page interview with the Bulletin during Restaurant Week actually would be great publicity. "Then you do it."

"You're the culinary genius behind the food, I'm just your business partner and sous chef." Foggy sighed. "My point is that it's your name attached to all those Michelin stars, not mine."

"So what am I getting out of this?"

"The editor promised us the front page of the Restaurant Week kickoff edition."

Matt huffed out a breath. "I hate you so much right now, you know that, right?"

Foggy chuckled. "Thanks, Matty."

"When's the interview?" Matt wanted to do some research on the Bulletin's food writer before he sat down with her just to see if she actually understood the culinary world or if she was just a glorified 'foodie'.

"In 15 minutes."

"What?" Matt shook his head and got up to put his chef's coat on and get ready. This had better be worth it.

[4doorssys]

[razzadoop]

devil suit no mask matthew im in love with you

[dawnluvvv]

when in mattfoggy fics matt is foggy's personal demon or something like that ohhh boy that's doing numbers!!

[tarzinnia]

Don't mind me, I'm trying to figure out my hiding place so I can spy at Fogwell's gym before the next chapter of @loveroftoomanyfandoms Cooking Up Love releases. At least I think that's where he's headed...

If you haven't read it, it's not too late! Come discover what Chef Matt can do for starters. Get it? Starters? Just go read it. It's great!

Cooking Up Love

Remember! If you enjoy something, reblog it and share the joy with others!

[frostdevilcentral]

Fanfic Rec: Devilish Sex by 42donotpanic (@42donotpanic)

Rated E, 2586 words, No Content Warnings Apply

"He didn't tell Loki what he wanted. He didn't have to. The other person knew how to react and, almost instinctively, turned with the vigilante, ending up on top of him again. Matt didn't mean to react to the quick change in position, but he couldn't help a soft moan when the half-god's full body weight was on his lap again, a familiar hardness pressing into him. The arousal building up in him was enough of a distraction that Matt didn’t notice when Loki leaned over him again until cool fingers touched his ribs. A soft chuckle was the only answer to his gasp. It was a new sound, a fond laugh, nowhere near the mischievous snicker the rest of the world had gotten to hear. It was a private sound, and Matt guessed he was one of few people who ever got to hear it." This was written for the Marvel Rare Pair Bingo Secret Santa for theorderofthetriad I hope you enjoy it <3

[farfromstrange]

holy mother of fuck, my legs are open for business.

What I’d give to be a secretary at Nelson, Murdock & Page and have Matt fuck me on a table.

the abandoned tie

a/n: this man... this man, this man. i've missed him so much. he has been on my mind all summer and now i finally snapped and wrote some yummy yum about him.

summary: It was terrible, you knew full well that he was your boss, but what had started as an innocent little crush the moment that you were hired as a secretary at Nelson and Murdock only grew and flourished the longer that you worked there. It didn’t help matters either that Matthew was a natural flirt, or at least was with you, always making you stumble over your words and blush like a damn schoolgirl. But even though it was the right thing to do, you just couldn’t find it in yourself to go on and actually quit, because if you did, then he wouldn’t get the chance to make your heart flutter on a daily basis anymore, bittersweet as it may be.

warnings: matt murdock x secretary!reader, smut, coworkers to lovers, kissing, office sex, clothed sex, ripping pantyhose, manhandling, oral, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, penetrative sex, protected sex, alcohol consumption, foggy slutshames matt (as he deserves. he a hoe and we love him for it)

word count: 4144

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

“Okay,” Foggy huffed out a long exhale, “I can’t look at this anymore, I’m going all cross-eyed,” he slammed shut the laptop on the conference table before him, “I gotta call it a night,” and as he raised from his seat, your head tilted up from the intimidating stack of paper your nose was buried in, “any of you up for a round at Josie’s?”

“Uhm, actually, I think I might stay here a little longer,” your thumb brushed against the corner of the pile before you, a mountain of perhaps the most boring paperwork you’d ever given your time of day, but the small chance that some tiny nugget hid in there, something that could help the firm on their current case, convinced you to volunteer to take on the job, “see if I can make a bit more of a dent in this.”

“Alright, fair,” your colleague eyed the papers, then shifted his glance to his partner, seated on the stool directly beside where you sat, “Matt? Come on, man. Don’t let your best friend drink alone.”

“I’m sorry,” he shifted slightly in his seat, then uttered in a tone that almost made it sound as if he was just making up his answer to match yours, “but I think I’m gonna keep going as well,” though the hope that he had changed his verdict to sync up with your own was a dream you’d never truly let yourself believe.

It was terrible, you knew full well that he was your boss, but what had started as an innocent little crush the moment that you were hired as a secretary at Nelson and Murdock only grew and flourished the longer that you worked there. It didn’t help matters either that Matthew was a natural flirt, or at least was with you, always making you stumble over your words and blush like a damn schoolgirl. But even though it was the right thing to do, you just couldn’t find it in yourself to go on and actually quit, because if you did, then he wouldn’t get the chance to make your heart flutter on a daily basis anymore, bittersweet as it may be.

“Workaholics the both of you!” Foggy groaned light-heartedly, conjuring an airy chuckle to bubble out of you, “well,” he puffed as he bent down to grab his bag and stuff his laptop inside, “then I guess I’ll just see you guys in the morning.”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” Matt flashed his friend a smile as he crossed the threshold of the door to the conference room. 

Catching his eye through the windowed wall as he made his way out towards the exit, you waved, “night!” before he raised his hand to mirror your gesture. 

After silence had consumed the office once more and your eyes returned to their tedious scanning, a yawn soon forced its way out of your lungs. 

As your hand flew up to cup your mouth, Matt’s soaring fingers stilled over the braille on the pages before him and his head tilted up in your direction. 

“You sure you’re not done for the day?” he quietly asked. 

“No,” you uttered before the yawn was through, “I wanna stay.”

“Alright,” he breathed, “how about some coffee then?”

“Uh, yeah, sure, I can go make some–”

“No, no, stay, I didn’t mean for you to–… I’ll make it.” 

“Oh,” you blinked back at him, perhaps finding the role reversal a bit more staggering than you’d expected as you were usually the one making everyone else beverages, “y-yeah, that would be great,” before your gaze then shadowed him as he got up and crossed the small width of the humble office to the little kitchenette nook. 

You should have probably just returned to your reading as he stood there and waited for the water in the electric kettle to boil, but you just couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. 

When he returned with a steaming mug, he held it out for you to grasp, “here you go,” before he returned to his seat beside your own. 

“Thanks,” your fingers enveloped the warm ceramic before you took a small sip, one that was swiftly cut short as soon as the flavour enveloped your tongue, “wow…” 

“What? Is it bad?” 

“No, no, quite the opposite actually,” you glanced down at the coffee in amazement before your gaze flickered up to him, “it’s perfect,” you uttered, unsure if you were more shocked or just plain weak in the knees at the fact that Matt somehow knew how you took your coffee.

The evening however didn’t drag on for too much longer following the very last sip of your caffeinated beverage. You tried to return to your work, you truly did, but no matter how hard you tried to get back into the flow of things and make a proper dent in the colossal workload, you just couldn’t. 

You were too occupied staring at Matt. 

Gazing longingly at his burly forearms, exposed and framed by the rolled-up sleeves of his button-down, at his wide hands as they danced over the papers before him, nearly caressing them in the manner you always fantasised he would touch your goosebump-ridden flesh, and even at the slight furrow line that appeared betwixt his dark brows as his brain absorbed the texts he read, the little crease you so badly wished to soothe with a kiss. 

As your eyes continued to linger and your heart thumped in your chest at the way your mind ran wild, Matt’s right hand then extended in search of one of the items on the cluttered table, though before his fingers located the wanted folder, they first wandered so close to you that they grazed against your forearm resting there on the surface. 

Though the contact sent butterflies soaring throughout your stomach, the spark also managed to snap you out of your daze and jolt you back to your senses, though the realisation bolted through you so severely that in your haphazard and hazy attempt at both hiding any trace of what you’d let yourself do, as well as dive back into what you should have been doing all along, your clumsy ass twisted away in a manner that almost caused you to fall off your chair. 

Almost. 

You would have fallen face first on the cold office floor if a pair of swift hands hadn’t seized your waist. 

“Wow–, I’ve got you.” 

As your head tilted up, gratitude ready to drip off your tongue, it ceased and shrivelled as you realised just how close you now were to Matt. Your noses almost touched as his grasp didn’t move to unfasten their strong hold on you even though you were now completely out of danger. 

“You’ve got–…” you echoed hazily, “I-I–…”

As his breath fanned across your face, your eyes flickered down to his lips. You’d never been this close to him before, but now that you were, impulsivity swiftly seized your soul. 

Pressing your lips against his in a chased kiss, you soon sensed his grip shift as he kissed you back, his fingers gently digging into your sides to claw you even closer.

Though as you felt yourself melt away in the dream you’d always yearned for, a flash of sense sparked within you and caused you to plant your palms on his broad chest and push him back. 

“Oh my goodness…” your shoulders shot up towards your ears, “I am so, so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. Please don’t fire–”

But no more fretful words managed to leave your lips as Matt then primally grabbed your face and shut you up with a kiss, a taste of hast tingled on his tongue as he let his own desire take over and rush for more instead of other civilised methods one could opt for in such a situation, he didn’t stop to put out the fire, only fanned the wicked flames and kissed you as if it was the last thing he’d ever do. 

It had caught you completely off guard and was only when he slowed his heated lips to smouldering pecks that you got the chance to catch up. 

“Oh my god…” you whispered slowly between kisses, utterly stunned and reeling in the reality. Your tone at first came out a bit timid as you still couldn’t believe what was transpiring, but as soon as his lips began to wander down the side of your neck and your eyes fluttered at the dizzying sensation, you felt yourself melt into the moment and echo, “oh my god…” though now in a completely different manner, one that dripped with the desire that you evidently hadn’t been the only one to keep bottled up for so long. 

As the lawyer soon rose from his seat, he dragged you up with him by the starved hold he had on your face, keeping you close and devouring your lips. 

Your fingers found his dark tie for support, the fabric of which had already previously been loosened slightly by his own fingers when they long ago drifted up to pop open the very top button of his collar. 

When his feet then shuffled and your backside bumped into the table’s edge, Matt’s palms coasted down your frame till they greedily swept over the pencil skirt you wore and cupped your ass, only letting himself cop a feel for a second before a small yelp bubbled out of you as he then lifted you up to sit on the conference table. 

As your fingers then untangled themselves from the silk hanging around his neck and swept up to the sides of his face, your eager touch bumped into his tinted glasses, which you swiftly removed and cascaded to the messy tabletop beside you where you sat. 

“Oh… Matt…” a small whimper rolled off your tongue as he then ducked down to plant sloppy pecks all along your neck, “please don’t stop…” 

His low voice then vibrated against your rapid pulse, “yeah?” 

“Uh-huh,” your head tilted slightly in a nod as your fingers stretched to weave in with his dark hair, “I–… I–…” you tried to fight through the foggy feeling he distilled in you, though ended up only offering him a short and desperate, “please.”

When you glanced down at him, fully expecting the lawyer’s lips to return to your own, you instead watched as they dipped down even lower, straying from your throat and wandering down to the sliver of skin on display in the neckline of your silky blouse. Your breathing was heavy as you watched your chest rise and fall beneath his hot pecks. Mouth agape, you stared intently as his kisses wandered even further south, his nose nuzzling against the soft material of your shirt as he dropped down to his knees. 

Planting your palms on the surface of the table for support as you watched Matt crack open your pantyhose-clad legs, his lips then dipped down to one of them as he plucked it up to rest it upon his broad shoulder, all the while a series of kisses smothered the sheer nylon clinging to your skin. 

Soon he had your skirt pushed up and bunched around your hips, fervently opening you up and peeling back your layers till he reached what he most desired. However when his touch finally did sweep up to graze against your covered centre, it didn’t continue on the journey up towards your waistband as you had assumed, but instead, his fingers pinched the sheer core of your stockings and tugged till a ripping sound rung out through the dark office. 

“Fuck…” he groaned as he finished tearing the hole, nearly making it huge enough for the nylon to just give up completely and split right down the middle, that’s how little he let remain intact before he moved on and reached for the underwear now accessible to him. 

His thumb stayed hooked in the soaked gusset of your underwear as he rushed to dive in for a taste of your divine. One of your hands shot down to gently grasp his hair as his tongue lavishly licked you up, making your whole body quiver from the way he made out with your cunt. 

Scooping a palm up to cup your tit through your clothing, Matt groaned, “shit…” his fervent rumble vibrating against your puffy pearl before he sucked down on it, “you taste so good…”

As you swiftly felt his kisses push you over the edge, your hips began to rock back against his efforts, grinding your pussy against the lower part of his face as he lapped you up, his fingers too raising to dent your thigh, both to keep your leg draped over his shoulder, but also to keep you steady through all of your squirming as you rode out your high. 

“Oh my–, fuck!” you gasped, catching your breath. Blinking down at him, you watched as he slowly rose back up, planting a few pecks in a sporadic pattern up your form till his lips again found your own. The taste of yourself was heavy on his tongue as you drifted a hand up to wipe your slickness from his stubbly chin. 

“Miss Y/l/n,” he smirked as you tilted away from his kisses to clean him better, addressing you with the same formality he only occasionally still withheld for you during your working hours together, “whatever would I do without you?”

Still in your haze, you thought too hard about the flirty comment and instead turned it into some kind of unnecessary riddle, “well, first of all, you properly wouldn’t have the evidence of what you just did all over your face, and second, then I also wouldn’t even clean it up because it wouldn’t be there, because I wouldn’t be here, and–,” but then, he simply cut off your words, frankly, as well as your brain, and pressed his lips to yours. 

“I fucking love how your mind works,” he grinned, a hand floating up to offer a feathery stroke through your hair. 

“Oh, I–,” a shiver ran down your spine as you blinked back at him, “thank you.” 

A gentle chuckle then rumbled in Matt’s chest as his fingers reached up to tug at his tie, “sweetheart, if you’re gonna thank me like that every time I pay you a compliment or talk dirty to you,” he yanked the loosened accessory over his head, “then I don’t know I’ll ever be able to stop,” and tossed the silky material to one of the dark corners of the dim room.

Tangling your arms around his neck, an amazed giggle bubbled out of you as you then settled on simply repeating, “thank you,” softly egging him on as your nose nudged against his own. 

Groaning lowly, “you little minx…” a smile tugged at his lips as he then leaned in to claim your lips once more.

As he kissed you once again, your legs snaked around his form, dragging up against his sides like a cicada in his arms.

And when he soon shifted a bit before you and extended an arm to something on the table, you breathlessly asked as your fingers floated down to undo his belt, “do you have a–,” but then you twisted your neck to see what he conjured from his bag, “oh,” you glanced down at the small foil packet in his hand, “you do,” you let out a relieved exhale, “good, because I didn’t, so here I was scrambling my mind for what other options we had.”

“Oh yeah?” he smirked, the sudden presence of his hands working at freeing himself caused your own to retreat, “and what did you come up with?”

“Oh, well…” you swallowed, conjuring enough courage to utter, “we could just touch each other…”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you hazily nodded, “or I could repay you the favour.”

“Yeah?” his hard length sprang free, “you’d suck my cock?”

Scarcely breathing at all, you stared as he swiftly rolled on the condom, “more than you know…” 

“But none of that’s what you really want right now, is it?” 

As his hand snaked around your hip to scoop you that much closer to the edge, you foggily shook your head, “no…”

“Tell me what it is then,” he uttered as he rubbed the bulbous head of his dick through your folds, making you squirm from the dizzying sensation, “tell me what you want.”

Though the mission of getting words out and offering him an answer seemed more difficult than you anticipated as his tip nudged against your swollen clit and made it near impossible for you to think, “I–… you. I want you,” your arms draped around his neck he inched back in for a kiss, “I-I–, Matt, please just put it in–”

Answering your prayer, he then slid his cock inside, slowly filling your dripping pussy up till his pelves pressed against your puffy pearl and the tip of him kissed a spot so deep inside of you that you felt as if you could scarcely breathe at all. 

“There you go,” his groan rumbled in your ear, “that what you wanted, huh?” though when you tried to respond, only whimpers flowed from your lips, “then be a good girl and thank me again,” he dared to request as he gently began to move, “tell me thank you for giving you exactly what you want,” and you moaned, eyes rolling at the way he dragged his girth out of you, so overwhelmingly slow that your cunt clenched around him so tightly that he had to carve anew when he finally thrust forward and filled you up once more, “come on, you can do it. Your pussy’s already doing it in her own incredible way.”

As his lips lowered to flutter against the side of your neck, you faintly murmured, “t-thank you–” 

Though the cocky lawyer only bucked into you harder, making you tremble in his grasp as he smirked against your goosebump-ridden skin, “what was that?”

“Thank you, M-Matt!” you successfully squeaked.

“Atta girl,” his hand slid up the column of your neck as your head began to lull, “that wasn’t so hard, was it?” 

“Uh-uh,” you hazily shook your head as you clung to his broad shoulders. 

Lightly enveloping his fingers around your neck, just to keep you close, his other digits then reached down between your bodies to find your clit in a harsh rub as he dared to say, “then say it again…”

The words of gratitude then became like a mantra on your lips, incoherently flowing through your moans as he rocked into you so hard that the conference table rattled beneath you, fucking you till you both tumbled over the edge, though the simple phrase still kept rolling off your tongue even when he offered to walked you home afterwards and too when he pressed a soft peck to your forehead, whispering you goodnight before you disappeared inside your building. 

The cups of coffee you had nervously bought the very next morning were quite the task to balance in your hands. It would have been strange if you didn’t buy one for all of your coworkers, even though the brew truthfully had ulterior motives. 

It wasn’t just the regular kind and thoughtful round of coffee to start the day, but in truth was a thanks for the bang last night, oh, and by the way I am head over heels in love with you, I know I was too scared to tell you last night, but I’m terrified of fucking this up kind of coffee. 

It was a lot of pressure to put on a simple cup of coffee, you recognised that, but what else were you to do? 

Though when you managed to push open to door to the office without dropping or spilling any of the balanced paper mugs, Foggy was the first one to spot you.

“Oh, you bought coffee?” he grabbed one out of your arms, “thanks!” before he called over his shoulder, his voice flooding into the room to the left, “hey Matt! Y/n got a round of coffee!” 

It hadn’t been the suave delivery you’d hoped for, having Foggy force the mood in a purely platonic and professional direction as Matt appeared and casually seized the cup his friend caught from you and extended to him, instead of the fantasy that had tickled your mind all morning of effortlessly slipping into his office and sliding it across his desk with some clever line you hadn’t been able to come up with yet.  

Though Matthew still smiled and said as he raised the cup up to his lips, “thank you, Y/n,” and the mirroring echo of the words he’d made you repeat last night so many times that it lost all its meaning, caused your cheeks to heat up. 

“Uhh,” you blinked back at him, trying to shake the memory off of you, “y-you’re welcome…”

However, before you could part your lips, ask your boss for a private moment and finally make your move, Foggy opened his mouth once more and spoke. 

“Hey, remember how I put out feelers to Karen?” he began to saunter into the conference room.

As Matt began to follow his voice, you too shadowed them, all the while trying your best to keep the butterflies on your belly at bay as you returned to the scene of the crime, most of the papers on the table still in a mess from how little the pair of you had bothered to clean up afterwards. 

“Yeah,” Matt tilted his head, “she got anything?”

“Yup,” Foggy took a sip of coffee, “called me this morning and said she’d pop by later with the stuff she��, hey,” his sentence then took a sharp turn as his gaze found something on the floor that puzzled him enough for his brows to crinkle up. Bending down, he picked up a silky string of fabric and wrapped it around his fingers, “Matt, did you forget your tie here?”

“Uh, what?” the man beside you stiffened up slightly. 

“Your tie, this looks like the one you wore yesterday.”

“Oh, uhm, yeah,” he coughed, fidgeting lightly with the to-go cup in his grasp, “it just bothered me last night, so took it off, must have forgotten to put it in my bag.”

As Foggy’s eyes scanned Matt’s reaction and too let his gaze wash over your flustered form and spot how the truth virtually poured out of your pores from the way your eyes grew, he simply hummed, “…uh-huh…” not believing his pal for a second. 

Sucking in a breath, Matt tried to extend his hand and asked, “can I have it back?” though his forced casual tone was utterly unconvincing. 

“Oh my god…” Foggy sighed before tossing the tie in his friend’s face, “you have a problem, man.” 

To your surprise, the man beside you caught it, though you were still just one step too far behind him to catch the way a smug smirk tugged at his lips, “what?” as he couldn’t for the life of him hide the pride of the discovery is friend had surely made countless of times throughout their friendship. 

“I leave you two alone for one night, one night!”

“…and to Matt for giving the closing argument of a lifetime and winning us this case!” Foggy raised his drink to the centre of where he, his colleagues and Karen sat around one of the small tables at Josie’s. 

“Oh, come on,” the dark-haired man beside you humbly tilted his head, “you were on fire as well–”

“Matt,” his friend cut him off by briefly planting his palm on his shoulder, “just shut up and take the compliment,” before he tilted his beer bottle back up and roared, “cheers!” 

“Cheers!” Karen, to the left of you, sang before the rest of you echoed, clinking all of your glasses together. 

“Thank you,” Matt gave in and smiled as everyone took a sip, “I couldn’t have done it without you all,” before he leaned down to whisper in your ear, “especially you…”

The sound of his low voice directly in your ear was enough to turn your knees into jelly, but as your eyes fluttered up to gaze at him, the personal space he had now eliminated betwixt you two caused you to positively melt. 

As you breathed out an audible smile, his lips stayed close as his breath once again tickled the shell of your ear, “so now that the trial’s done, I was wondering,” he uttered slowly, making you cling onto each and every syllable that flowed from his lips, “would you let me take you out on a real date?”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[loveroftoomanyfandoms]

Cooking Up Love, Chapter 2

Pairing: Chef!Matt Murdock x F!Journalist!Reader

Rating: T (for now, might change, might not)

Story Summary: Here

Warnings/Tags: Hallmark levels of fluffy, cheesy goodness (and speed that their relationship develops, lol), no use of Y/N, Matt is not a vigilante, he is a bit of a dick though, more tags to come as the story develops

Word Count: ~1800 (literally double last chapter, lol)

A/N: Thank you to everyone who liked and commented on the first chapter! If you'd like to be added to the tag list, please don't hesitate to ask!

And thanks so much to @theradioactivespidergwen for the adorable divider!

Tag List: @yarrystyleeza @hailey-murdock @mattkinsella @bellaxgiornata @danzer8705

You checked your smartwatch for the time as you rushed down the sidewalk towards Daredevil. Your GPS had told you that it'd be faster to walk there from the Bulletin than take a cab given the time of day, but you were starting to wonder if maybe you should've taken your chances.

You breathed a sigh of relief as you spotted the restaurant up ahead then slowed a bit so you could catch your breath before reaching the entrance. Okay. It's fine, I'm on time, I got this.

You looked up at the restaurant. Daredevil was displayed in dark red lettering above the entranceway, with different patterns of dots underneath each letter. Huh. Interesting choice.

You reached for the door handle and pulled, only to find it locked. Shit.

You looked at the sign next to the door. 

Hours of Operation:

Sunday: 11 AM - 2 PM

Monday: Closed

Tuesday - Thursday 5 PM - 10 PM

Friday - Saturday: 5 PM - 12 AM

You reached into your purse to call the restaurant… only to realize that you had left your cell phone sitting on your dresser at home.

You sighed. Great.  

"Can I help you?"

You turned as a pretty blonde-haired woman walked up and unlocked the door. "Oh, um, yeah, I hope so."

You dug a business card out of your wallet and handed it to her. "I'm with the New York Bulletin . I'm supposed to be interviewing Chef Murdock in a minute, but I left my phone at home so I'm unable to let him know I'm here."

The woman's eyebrows raised as she looked at your business card. "You're interviewing Matt?"

"Um, yes?"

The woman narrowed her eyes at you suspiciously. "Just a second, I'll be right back."

You waited as the woman went inside and locked the door behind her.

A few minutes later she returned and unlocked the door, this time with a friendly smile on her face.

She held the door open for you. "Come on in."

"Thanks." You stepped inside.

"I'm Karen," the woman said. "I run front-of-house."

"Nice to meet you," you replied.

Karen led you to a table near the right corner of the front entrance. "Matt'll be right out. Can I get you something to drink in the meantime?"

You shook your head. "Oh, no thank you, I'm fine."

"Okay, if you change your mind, let me know."

"I will, thank you."

You took your notepad and pen out of your purse, silently cursing yourself again for leaving your phone -- which was your only audio recording device -- on your dresser.

Since you couldn't even continue your brief research on Chef Murdock while you waited, you looked around instead.

The walls were all painted a soft white with the exception of the back wall, which was exposed brick with a built-in fireplace running along the middle of it. Side tables holding bottles of wine were the only choice of decor, giving the space a simplistic look.

You kind of liked it.

Ten minutes passed, then twenty… then thirty. What is the holdup, you thought to yourself. Surely he can't be that busy since they're not open for service yet .

You were just about to get up to go ask Karen if Chef Murdock had forgotten you were there when the kitchen door opened and Chef Murdock himself came strolling out.

His photo really hadn't done him justice -- his biceps strained against the sleeves of his chef's jacket and his jawline looked like it could cut glass.

Your eyes trailed up to his, which were hidden by the same red-tinted sunglasses he had been wearing in his photo. 

You swallowed and stood as he approached, sticking your hand out for him to shake as you introduced yourself. "Mr. Murdock, thank you for meeting with me. I was told that you don't do interviews."

He ignored your hand and sat. "I don't usually, but it seems like this one was… unavoidable. And it's Chef Murdock. I didn't spend three and a half years in culinary school to be called Mr. "

You hesitated before sitting and looking down at your sparse notes. "Okay, well then. Um, Chef Murdock, I'd like to start with a few questions, if you don't mind."

"Mmm."

You took a deep breath. "Okay, so you're a Michelin star chef, correct?"

"Three." 

You looked up at him again. "Excuse me?"

"I'm a three Michelin star chef."

"Oh. Um, excuse me." Asshole . "As a three Michelin star chef, what made you want to open a restaurant here in Hell's Kitchen? Why not somewhere like Manhattan?"

"I was born and raised here in the Kitchen."

You smiled up at him. "Oh, so do your parents still live here? They must be very proud."

Chef Murdock raised an eyebrow. "Well they probably would be, except my mother abandoned me as an infant and my father was murdered shortly after the accident that blinded me as a child, which you would know if you had bothered to do a modicum of research."

Your eyes widened, your smile quickly falling from your face. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry." That at least explained the glasses and the dots on the signage out front. It's Braille. "I had no idea, I --"

"-- didn't bother to come prepared, yes, that much is clear." Chef Murdock crossed his arms. "If this is the sort of unprofessionalism that everyone who works at the Bulletin shows, then I'm not sure I should be sitting down with one of their reporters. We're done here."

You opened your mouth to protest as Chef Murdock stood and stalked off, shocked that he had suddenly stopped the interview before it even had really started. 

You stood and put your notepad and pen in your purse, fighting back tears. What the hell just happened?

This was the first time you had ever failed at an interview -- you were known for both your professionalism and your ability to get to know your subjects on a deeper, more personal level in order to get them to open up to you.

You headed back to the lobby of the restaurant, willing yourself to not cry while you were still in the building.

Karen smiled over at you. "All done?"

"Um, yeah," you mumbled. "Could you let me out, please?"

"Sure thing." Karen unlocked the door for you, looking at you curiously. "Hey, are you okay?"

You shook your head. "Fine, fine, just gotta go."

You pushed past her and exited the restaurant, waiting until you had made it into the alley next to it before you burst into tears.

Matt sighed as he took his glasses off and tossed them onto his desk. At least that's over . He hadn't gotten to where he was by half-assing anything and he certainly wasn't going to let anyone ruin what he had worked so hard to rebuild, especially some so-called 'journalist' who couldn't even bother to do some simple research before sitting down for an interview.

"What the hell did you do, Matt? Karen just told me that that journalist from the Bulletin just ran out of here practically in tears."

Matt looked up and crossed his arms in front of his chest as Foggy's familiar footsteps stopped in front of his office. "She came completely unprepared, Foggy. I wasn't going to waste my time sitting down with someone who couldn't even bother doing any sort of research before coming."

"That's because she hadn't had time to do any! The interview needed to happen right away because of deadlines and stuff for the paper so it got sprung on her at the last minute, just like I sprang it on you at the last minute."

He paused as Karen's footsteps approached. "Kare, do you still have Ms. Taylor's business card? Maybe we can try to salvage this."

Taylor? "Wait a minute, who?" Matt replied confusedly. 

"Kelsie Taylor? The food writer from the Bulletin ?" Foggy sighed exasperatedly. Jesus, Matt, did you even try to remember her name?"

Matt shook his head, beginning to feel bad for being so harsh towards you. "That's not who she said she was."

"Matt's right, it definitely wasn't her," Karen added. "At least, that wasn't the name on the card she gave me."

"Who was she then?"

Matt said your name. "She did say she was with the Bulletin though."

"Her card's on the front podium," Karen said. "I'll go get it."

Foggy turned back to Matt as Karen left. "You never were going to do the interview, were you?"

Matt winced. The last time he had agreed to any kind of journalistic endeavor had ended in disaster and almost complete ruination of his culinary reputation, and quite honestly he was terrified of it happening again. "I was , but --"

Foggy groaned. "Don't even give me that bullshit, Matt. Do you know how hard I had to work to even get you that interview? They were going to give the front page to Fisk , of all people!"

Wilson Fisk, who owned Kingpin's, had been suspected of being behind several popular restaurants' sudden closures (more than one being due to 'mysterious' kitchen fires), as well as having bought most, if not all, of the positive hype and accolades he and his restaurant had received. 

Matt scowled. He would be damned if he was going to let that bastard steal the spotlight out from underneath him. "Fisk? Really? He's not even a real chef! His sous comes up with most of his recipes, he just modifies it a bit and slaps his name on it."

"All the more reason for you to get that front page interview."

Matt heard Karen's footsteps approach again. "Got her card?"

"Yeah, it's right here," Karen replied.

Matt could smell the subtle scent of your perfume as Karen passed Foggy your business card -- something lightly floral with a hint of vanilla.

Foggy read your name off of your business card. "This says she's the Features writer."

Matt's brow furrowed. "Features? You said the food writer was doing the interview."

"I assumed she was but I guess since it was a front-page article they wanted someone else to do it." Foggy pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped at his screen. "Hang on, I'm gonna pull up the Bulletin staff."

Matt waited as Foggy pulled up the list of staff then tapped on your name. "Is this her?" he asked Karen, presumably showing her your picture.

"Yeah, that's who it was," Karen replied.

Matt nodded as his watch beeped with the time. "We have to get ready to open, but I'm going to go over to the Bulletin 's office in the morning to see if I can talk to her and straighten everything out."

He just hoped you accepted his apology.

[totallynotashieldagent]

full of catholic guilt matt murdock is just SO chef's kiss tho

sex would be pleasure and punishment all wrapped into one

like, he would need- he'd beg, plead, want to be tied up, overstimulated because he doesn't think he deserves anything better than this- this extreme pleasure accompanied with this extreme sensitivity of pain and sharpness of your foot on his balls as his hands are tied to his thighs, and his ankles are tied to the legs of the sofa or a chair or whatever- and he's there, exposed- and you put earplugs in his ears to dampen his senses but he can taste it

he can taste the salt of his own skin, the sex in the air-

and your hands are working him still, his cum is half dry, half lubing him up more, and making him go again and again and again-

he's begging, moaning, whimpering-

and he's cum so many times now that his cock is just twitching and swollen but nothing's coming out anymore

or

there would be days when he's overtaken by control. he's a predator and you have better said your prayers that day because one miscalculation, one wrong word and the way his hand would land on your ass would leave a mark for days-

he'd hold your legs open by the ankles, rut into your tight cunt without prep and cum until you're a sobbing mess and keep going until you're begging him to let you go because you can taste his release in the back of your throat now -

your pussy's already gone numb so there's no use in fighting over that, honestly

but it's the after

the after is when the real catholic guilt hits

when all the pleasure he's felt, feels so completely disgusting and he's full of self-loathing to have enjoyed any of it at all

to have cum so much that he's spent-

to have made you cum at all that you're boneless and drooling and your body is marked and bruised in prints of his hand on your ass

he'd beg for forgiveness as if you were his alter and church, he'd stay on his knees for you, whispering apologies for going too far, for not making love, for fucking too hard, for even daring to touch you in such an obscene way-

he would stay on his knees and you'd run your fingers through his hair, repeating it was fine, it's okay, it hurt but you never said the safeword anyway so he shouldn't feel bad about it

but he can't- he can't stop the guilt

he can't stop throwing himself into being Daredevil and getting himself hit harder and punished more but then that's how the cycle repeats

he gets hurt and you take care of him, and the only way he wants to be taken care of is through pleasure anyway-

Drabble Master List.

[its-all-stardust]

Hey, so first of all, I love your work, it's absoluteley amazing!!!

I saw that your requests are open, so I thought that I would ask for a Matt Murdock x reader oneshot? You know, just something cute and fluffy?

Maybe I'm gonna sound a bit stereotypical but how about a reader that owns a bakery and wants to try out a new recipe. Matt tries to sneak a taste from time to time while "helping out" (honestly, he's just teasing and making reader's job probably harder [affectionaly]). Just domestic fluff? Maybe please?

You don't have to if you don't want to, but I thought I'd give it a try :)

Thank you!! I'm glad you like my writing!! 🫂

I'm worried with this one that I tweaked things just enough that it's not exactly what you wanted anon, but I did my best and wrote what inspiration gave me!! I'll be honest, it could be fluffier, but I'm also not offended by my own writing so that's something lol I hope you like it!! ❤️❤️

Check out this post for request guidelines

Masterlist

Matt Murdock/GN!Reader

Word Count: 964

Was turning your residential apartment into a glorified bakery after you moved in with your boyfriend legal? According to Matt, a very good lawyer, it wasn’t technically illegal, so you did it anyway and prayed your landlord never found out.

It wasn’t really a bakery, not in the traditional sense. You didn’t try making it into a storefront, nor did you want it to be one. You did, however, take specialty orders through your website. You mainly baked for small events or private parties. You weren’t touching a wedding with a ten-foot pole unless you made the cake or just one of the cookies for the snack table.

It wasn’t enough to pay the bills on its own—you still had a full-time job—but you enjoyed it, and the small amount of extra income it generated was nice.

Matt enjoyed it, too. So much so that you often joked he had ulterior motives for dating you.

But even though baking was a passion, it still came with challenges.

You let out a frustrated sigh and leaned against your elbows, bent over the counter, and buried your face in your hands. 

This is the worst part about baking, you thought.

“Do you need help?” Matt asked, hand suddenly on your shoulder. You jumped, letting out a small gasp. “Sorry. I tried calling a couple of times.”

“It’s fine,” you sighed, turning to wrap your arms around his middle, leaning into him, and pressing your face against his neck. “I just hate this.”

Matt huffed a laugh. “It can’t be so bad. You say that about every new thing you try.”

“But I really mean it this time!” you whined, though you actually didn’t.

You strived for perfection, but new recipes were always daunting. Either the first few batches didn’t meet your standards, or the very first one did, but the subsequent batches often failed. You thought once or twice about not adding anything new to your menu, but you needed to keep a refreshed list, or else you risked losing repeat customers—the ones who made this business possible for you in the first place.

“We can do it together,” Matt offered, lips brushing against the top of your head. “Will that make it better?”

You considered it for a moment. Matt’s taste was impeccable. You often used him—and Foggy and Karen—as guinea pigs, and he was always able to offer you the best advice. In another life, he would have been a fantastic chef. You’ve never baked anything with him before, only handed him the finished product.

If he helped you now, as you were putting everything together, it could make the whole try, try again process you had going significantly shorter, if not bypassed completely.

“Yes, actually. I think it will,” you answered, lifting your head up. 

The only problem: Matt was a complete and utter nuisance.

He wouldn’t do what you told him, at times completely forgoing your instructions—the one you found in an old cookbook that wasn’t like anything you found online—and adding either the incorrect amount of something or adding something that wasn’t even on the list of ingredients.

No matter how many times you told him baking was an exact science and the time for experimentation was after you followed the recipe to a T and tasted the finished product, he refused to listen. You thought he did, at first, but then you caught him tossing in almond extract behind your back, and things only went downhill from there.

“Would you please stop sticking your fingers in the bowl?” you practically begged after you caught him helping himself to the cookie batter for the fourth time.

“How else am I supposed to taste it?” he asked with a playful smirk. He seemed to enjoy the fact he was making you want to pull your hair out.

“With the spoon I specifically set out for that purpose!” You picked it up and thrust it at him. He ignored it and stuck his finger in his mouth.

“But I’m blind. How am I supposed to know where it is?” 

You raised an eyebrow, not fooled. “The same way you find the bowl even after I move it.”

Matt shrugged. “Fair point. But if I used the spoon, I couldn’t do this.” He stuck his finger in the bowl again.

“Matthew, I swear to—”

He stuck his finger in your mouth, not far but enough for the batter to touch your tongue, before he pulled away.

“—God,” you couldn’t help but finish as the first notes of the batter processed. Brow furrowed, you focused on the taste, brushing your tongue against the roof of your mouth, trying to make it last while you sorted out the different flavors. It was…

“That’s amazing,” you said, stunned. “What did you put in there?” You pulled the bowl toward you, forgetting the spoon in your hand as you dipped in a finger from the other. It wasn’t what you were trying to make at all, and you needed another sample.

“I tried telling you it just needed a few extra ingredients.” Before you could stick your finger in your mouth, Matt took your hand, wrapping his lips around your batter-covered finger. His tongue lapped gently against the pad, almost teasing. “Now it’s perfect,” he said when he pulled away.

“I think I need you in the kitchen more often,” you said, wheels already turning in your mind.

Matt beamed at you and tried leaning in for a kiss. You, however, didn’t notice and stepped away to find your phone, leaving him confused.

You opened your notes app and said, “Quick, tell me what you did before you forget.”

Matt could only shake his head in amusement before he dutifully listed everything he had snuck into the batter.

[hellfirehopeless]

List of Installments for All These Years

Summary: You met Matthew Murdock unexpectedly at Columbia University and you couldn't deny that there was an instant attraction–for you. But for Matt, you became as close of a friend to him as Foggy did. As the years pass by, your feelings only grow for your best friend, but all you can do is watch as he dates and sleeps with every other woman on campus and eventually in New York City but you.

Installment List

Part 1: "Saturday Night"

Part 2: "Of Drinking and Dishonesty"

Part 3: "Betrayal"

Part 4: "All the Broken Pieces"

Part 5: "Graduation"

Part 6: "The White Whale"

Part 7: "So Close Yet So Far"

Part 8: "Planting a Seed of Thought"

Part 9: "A Truth Revealed"

Part 10: "The Weight of Grief"

Part 11: "Last to Know"

Part 12: "Considering the Offer"

Part 13: "Breaking the News"

Part 14: "Day Late Friend"

Part 15: "What If...?"

Part 16: "The Death of Miscommunication"

Part 17: "Bridging the Distance"

Part 18: "A Series of Firsts"

Part 19: "Coffee, Brunch, and Hotel Rooms"

Part 20: "This Isn't Goodbye"

Part 21: "The Sound of Your Voice" {Coming Soon}

[amazingmaeve]

matt murdock fic recommendations

I know that this was already uploaded ages ago but the link that it was really weird and I couldn’t edit it so I just thought about redoing it and putting them here. also some won’t be on here because the link isn’t working and I couldn’t find it.

anyways these are fics that I just love and adore and deserve all the praise and attention they get. so you should totally give them all the likes and comments because the authors sure as hell deserve it.

also what i interpret things as fluff/angst might be different to other people and it's just an opinion based.

ೃ⁀➷ fluff/smut

a slow day by @solemnly-mischievous god it’s just so good and the writing is just *chefs kiss* no other words than amazing!

ೃ⁀➷ fluff/a smidge of angst

sleepless nights by @carters-things it’s just so amazing and great I love the boys of angst followed up by fluff and it will always be one of my favorite fics for matt.

ೃ⁀➷ fluff/smut/little angst

nighttime activities by @crazyxshit can feel the angst in this and it is so good that I would love to read it for the first time again because it’s so amazing. so if you hadn’t read it do it now.

ೃ⁀➷ angst/smut/teeny fluff

spawn ii by @elsolario it’s an au obviously and I love it because it is the devil!matt and it’s so great and it is executed so perfectly. it’s just so good and I recommend everyone should read it. (18 up of course)

ೃ⁀➷ angst/smut/kinda dark

blasphemy by @spencer-van-sunshine so it’s an au again I just love au and it’s a priest!matt au and it’s so good and the author is amazing. as the author states it has some dub con elements so if you aren’t comfortable with than you shouldn’t read it.

ೃ⁀➷ fluff/smut

im gonna ruin you by @aimerriarkle as the other fics listed here it is amazing and I love reading it, it just gives my stomach the butterflies.

ೃ⁀➷ fluff/smut

zip and rewind by @clints-lucky-arrow it’s just so steamy and I love it. the authors amazing and it’s written so beautifully. it’s just ugghhh these are the fics with the writing that i have strive to have.

ೃ⁀➷ fluff

heartbeats by @clints-lucky-arrow it’s just so fucking fluffy and I love it, I love pregnancy fics even though right at the moment I can’t even see my self with a child. idk why I just love these types of fics so much.

ೃ⁀➷ fluff

moving in by @darling-i-read-it matt is just…… a bit of a mess in this fic and you know what I don’t blame him, and it’s just amazing and I love it.

ೃ⁀➷ fluff/smut/teeny bits of angst

the devil of hell’s kitchen by @arahxdjarin there are multiple fics that I love that have the reader basically being matt’s personal nurse and this is one of these. it’s so fluffy with sprinkles of angst and smut it’s just too good.

ೃ⁀➷ fluff/smut

stress by @stranger-nightmare amazing, beautifully written a piece of art that should be praised til the end of times. so good and I recommend everyone who is of age to read it.

ೃ⁀➷ fluff/angst

the defense rests by @dameronology love the fics where they have to hide their relationship and this one of them and as said before I love it.

ೃ⁀➷ fluff

new case by @darling-i-read-it spoilers for spider-man no way home and let me tell you I got so excited for the fic while reading the synopsis because I had seen the movie and loved it. but it’s amazing. the fic and the movie of course. but if you hadn’t watched the movie watch it first.

ೃ⁀➷ fluff/smut/angst

let me hear you by @stranger-nightmare it’s just such a comfort fic for me. comfort fluff, comfort angst, and comfort smut and i love reading it when I’m in my feelings because it always perks my mood up.

ೃ⁀➷ fluff/smidge of angst

bad dream by @ola-elaina another comfort fic that just makes my heart flutter every-time I read it and it never fail to make me happy.

ೃ⁀➷ smut

stress relief by @fluffyprettykitty i LOVE dom matt fics and this one of many examples of those fics and it’s amazing.

ೃ⁀➷ fluff

heartbeat by @darling-i-read-it another fic where the reader is pregnant and matt finds out through his hearing. i love this fic as much as the other one and they’re not the same fic obviously but nonetheless you should just read it.

ೃ⁀➷ fluff

flirting at work by @pastafossa more tooth rotting fluff and god it’s good and foggys there and he is annoyed at the two and if you were in his shoes probably wouldn’t blame him. such a cute fic.

ೃ⁀➷ fluff

up against the wall kiss by @pastafossa it’s such a trope but it’s an amazing way at writing a trope that I adore so so much and it’s sfw so just go and read it if you like matt murdock fics.

ೃ⁀➷ smut/teeny fluff

no sympathy from the devil by @write-orflight it’s kinda enemies to lovers and set in the college time. just so good and great I love enemies to lovers when done right and it’s done so right here since they’re still kinda enemies.

ೃ⁀➷ angst/fluff

running red by @titan-sl8yer it’s such a role reversal where the reader gets attacked and matt has to clean her up and it’s amazing it’s just amazing.

ೃ⁀➷ smut/fluff

overworked by @writingdumpster this fic is just matt being a good boyfriend and the reader is just trying her best to get her work done and I love it.

ೃ⁀➷ smut/fluff

what’s your middle name by @thegingerwriter there’s a lot of humor in this that makes it even greater than it already was and it’s just the reader guessing matt’s middle name.

ೃ⁀➷ smut

justice is blind by @lovelybucky1 friends with benefits is another trope that i absolutely love and adore and this is again one of these fics and read it please if you’re of again obviously

ೃ⁀➷ smut

nsfw alphabet by @lovelybucky1 self explanatory and I always love these ones so please give it a good ole read.

ೃ⁀➷ smut/kinda fluffy

far from innocent by @singledadharrington as said before love dom matt murdock and this fic is just full of it so if you’re 18+ and love dom matt murdock smut this is the fic for you.

ೃ⁀➷ angst/fluff

fleeing moments by @titan-sl8yer god it’s just so fluffy with some angst that melts my heart every time I read it. amazing.

ೃ⁀➷ fluff

morning after by @spideyhexx this fic is the epitome of fluff and matt murdock and if you want to read all that good stuff don’t look any further it’s right here.

ೃ⁀➷ fluff/smut

woman ii by @petertingle-yipyip there’s so much flirting and teasing in these fics that make my heart skip a beat. and they’re ugghhh so amazing.

ೃ⁀➷ smut

client calls by @clints-lucky-arrow a lot of teasing matt in this one and it’s great I love it.

ೃ⁀➷ fluff/teeny angst

the seven stages of matt murdocks jealousy by @alrighty-matty this one is amazing because I usually fics of the reader being the jealous one and it’s swapped here and I love it and I’ll always love a jealous matt.

ೃ⁀➷ fluff/smut

I know you wanna go to heave but you’re human tonight by @2-fast-2-curious husband matt this time and with a breeding kink it’s great and paired with so much fluff and I can’t help but to love it.

ೃ⁀➷ smut

idle hands by @beyondspaceandstars just pure smut and as before I love matt murdock smut and I can’t help but to read every time I see it.

ೃ⁀➷ smut/angst/fluff

not again by @mvtthewmurdvck exes to lovers not a very appreciated trope and one I love and I think I love a lot of tropes fyi. it’s angsty but with a happy ending which I personally love.

ೃ⁀➷ fluff/smut(?)

the girl next door by @deceitfuldevil the reason of the question mark is due to masturbation that’s why I put that here but most of the fic is just fluff and it’s amazing.

ೃ⁀➷ smut

devilish by @foli-vora it’s a lot of teasing and smut which I personally love and this something that every matt murdock lover above the age of 18 should read.

ೃ⁀➷ smut

distractions by @milf-murdock movie night to fucking is an amazing plot ugh.

ೃ⁀➷ angst/fluff

sick twisted fantasy ii by @multiharlot it’s so angsty but with fluff and a happy ending and it’s also a fic where it doesn’t end up blaming karen. I know confusing just read it please.

ೃ⁀➷ angst/fluff

fragile by @devils-dares so angsty where matt needs a hug and he gets some comforting.

ೃ⁀➷ fluff

matching pairs by @peachiswritingg I love, love it when authors write love languages and this the matt murdock version of that and it’s so adorable.

[anna-hawk]

S3 Matt Murdock deserves a slap and a hug... But gotta admit that he's also *chef's kiss* delicious.

[sosa2imagines]

Misunderstanding. Part 5.

Warnings- Angst, Fluff.

The silence in the abandoned building was punctuated, only by the rhythmic hum of the bomb. You and Matt sat side-by-side, both tense but determined. Your combined weight kept the pressure plate off, the only thing preventing a city-wide catastrophe.

But that didn’t stop Nat from laughing and Matt being kind enough, not to directly laugh at you.

You had burrowed Nat’s phone to send, a whole-hearted voice message to Steve. After you were done, you looked at them, little very proud of your speech. What you didn’t expect was them to laugh.

“Ha ha! Very funny.” you scoff, with a serious look.

“You are really adorable.” Matt says, trying his best not to laugh, but failing miserably. “She is adorable, I mean that voice message though, chef’s kiss.” Nat laughed. “You do realize right; Rogers might not check the message sent through my phone?”

You glare at her, she raises her brow daring you to glare, which you immediately replace with a scowl, though she was right. “If things go in the wrong direction…” you motion with your hands to the current situation, “you can tell him…to check…” you pout.

“What happened to, I trust everyone and we’ll be safe Matt?” Matt reminds you, with that damn adorable smile. “I still trust everyone, but” “She is being dramatic” Nat cuts you, rolling her eyes. “Why don’t you kids, get to know each other, while I look around more.”

“Sounds good to me, not like we can do much here…” Matt says. “Behave you two” she winks at you and heads out.

“So,” you began, your voice a low murmur, “Lawyer by day, vigilante by night, huh?”

Matt chuckled; the sound surprisingly warm. “Just doing my part. You seem to handle yourself pretty well too.” “Just another day at the office,” you replied, the words laced with a hint of a smile. “Though I wouldn't mind a few more gadgets and a flying suit right now.”

You both lapsed into a comfortable silence again. You stole a glance at Matt. He seemed calm, almost serene, despite the ticking bomb beneath him. His face, etched with the faint scars of past battles, was surprisingly handsome. There was a depth in his dark eyes though hidden through his glasses.

You spoke again, breaking the silence, “care to share, what’s the issue, between you and Tony?”

Just then Nat comes back, “My senses told me, we are about to gossip.” Matt chuckled, blushing slightly, as he begins to tell…

Flashback-

Tony Stark, scowled as he watched Matt Murdock walk confidently into Stark Tower. The lawyer, Pepper's choice for handling the legal aftermath of the Iron Man reveal, had become a thorn in Tony's side. It wasn't Matt's legal prowess that bothered him, it was the way Pepper spoke of him.

“He's so calm and collected, Tony,” Pepper had said, a genuine smile on her face. “He handled the press conference beautifully, even with you throwing curveballs.”

Tony had grunted, the jealousy twisting in his gut like a malfunctioning arc reactor. Matt Murdock, with his quiet demeanor and kind eyes, was everything Tony wasn't. He was the grounded lawyer, the responsible one, the complete opposite of Tony's flamboyant billionaire persona.

“Mr. Stark,” Matt greeted, his voice a low rumble. “Pepper said it was urgent.”

Tony gestured to a chair, the tension in the room thick. “Yes, well, there's been a slight... disagreement with a certain Captain America, and I need you to clean up the mess.”

Matt listened patiently as Tony ranted about the disagreement, his words laced with sarcasm and barely concealed bitterness. When Tony finished, Matt simply raised an eyebrow.

“Mr. Stark,” he said, his voice calm, “you're asking me to fix a situation that primarily stems from your own actions. Captain Rogers is not entirely unreasonable.”

Tony scoffed. “He's a relic from a bygone era, clinging to outdated ideals.”

Matt leaned back, his gaze unwavering. “Perhaps, but he's also a man who fought for what he believed in long before you donned a metal suit.”

Tony's jaw clenched. He hated the way Matt spoke, the subtle challenge in his voice. He was a good lawyer, Tony grudgingly admitted, but the man was starting to grate on his nerves.

“Just fix it, Murdock,” Tony snapped, his facade slipping. “That's what I pay you for.”

Matt stood, a faint smile playing on his lips. “I'll do my best, Mr. Stark. But perhaps a little humility wouldn't hurt in the future.”

He left the room, leaving Tony fuming. Humility. The word tasted like ashes in his mouth. He, Tony Stark, the genius billionaire playboy philanthropist, needing humility?

He slammed his fist on the desk, the sound echoing through the sterile room. It wasn't just the disagreement with Captain Rogers that bothered him. It was the way Matt, with his quiet confidence, seemed to effortlessly win Pepper's admiration. It was the way he made Tony feel...

He watched Matt leave, the jealousy still lingering, but something else stirring within him. Maybe Matt was right. Maybe a little less arrogance and a little more understanding wouldn't hurt. He glanced at Pepper, who was working on her tablet, of course he is not going to accept that. How dare he impress Pepper!

“Woah” you and Nat said in unison.

“So you were his lawyer...and he has a problem with you...because you gave some advice?” Nat asks, narrowing her eyes. “Yeah, I guess so...I mean, I don't have any other reason, why he would have a problem with me...” Matt replies.

“Wait what problem, did he have with Steve?” you ask in curiosity. “You should ask him…” Matt said, rubbing the back of his neck, giving you a sheepish smile.

Before you could push him further, suddenly, Tony clad in his Iron Man suit, stormed in, his helmet retracted. Relief washed over you.

“Took you long enough,” Natasha remarked, a hint of relief in her voice. “Traffic” he smirks, before looking at you.

“Kid, are you okay?” he asks, as his gaze landed on Matt, he gasped. “Murdock? What are you doing here?” Tony's voice boomed through the helmet.

Matt raised an eyebrow. “Good to see you Stark.”

“He's with me,” you interjected, “helping with the bomb.”

Tony shot you a glare. “He's a lawyer, kid! Lawyers don't defuse bombs!”

“He's not just a lawyer,” you defended. “he is a vigilante.” Tony scoffed. “Right, because Daredevil is known for his expertise in explosive ordinance.”

Yes, Tony knew who he was. He had done his homework on Matt. Another reason why he had a problem with him.

“Well, if either one of them, gets up, none of us can survive…” Natasha chimed in, her voice calm amidst the chaos. “Murdock's and Y/n combined weight has kept it off.”

Tony hesitated. Pepper had always spoken highly of Matt, his legal prowess and unwavering moral compass. It irked Tony, a strange mix of admiration and resentment. He sighed, “Alright, fine. But if he blows us all up, I'm blaming you.”

Matt chuckled again. “Fair enough.”

Matt was kind enough, to put his arm around your shoulder, to make you comfortable. You did blush and as a reward you got a glare from Tony.

“Traitor!” he mutters to himself. “Kid we are setting some serious ground rules for you...” You narrow your eyes, giving him a questionable look, “What did I do? Isn't this a part of the job?”

“Young lady, don't make me ground you!”.

“To ground the ‘young lady’ Nat rolls her eyes, “we need to save her!” she reminds him.

For a few minutes, which felt like hours, Tony kept glaring at Matt who was unaffected by it. After couple of minutes, Tony snapped out of, mentally doing whatever he was doing to Matt, addressing back to the current problem.

“Care to tell me, how you got in this situation?” even before you or Nat could answer, Tony speaks again “I want the truth, nothing but the truth, don't even try to hide a tiny detail.”, he looks at Matt before looking at you again “or else I'll get FRIDAY to get me all the cctv footage, across town!”

If you thought hiding something from Natasha is hard, meet Tony Stark, who has access to everything. With a big gulp, you tell Tony, every single thing.

“This is getting ridiculous, Murdock!” Tony growled. The lawyer's calm demeanor, the way he held himself with an unwavering confidence, it all grated on Tony's nerves.

Tony knelt beside you, his scanners analyzing the bomb. “Looks like a basic pressure-sensitive trigger. We need to disarm it without lifting either of you. These wires are connected in different places.”

“What does that mean?” you ask. “It means we need to cut these wires at the same time, as soon as I figured out the code system.” Tony tells you. “Thankfully, Rogers is here too… he can”

“Steve? He’s here?” you ask in surprise. “Yeah, he tagged along...he” “Where is he?” you cut him off, desperate to see Steve.

“What the hell?” You all turn to the direction of the voice, Steve was standing, looking extremely furious, not at the situation, but you and Matt sitting together.

Part 4 - Part 6

Taglist- @blackhawkfanatic @ordelixx

@sapphirebarnes @differenttyphoonwerewolf

@vicmc624 @thezombieprostitute

@lillyxlillian @nekoannie-chan @ashley202

@lovely-geek @redbloodedgurl

[blackshadowswriter]

Literally sobbing right now cuz this hit so hard 😭😭😭 I'm scared of people yelling at me too (parent issues too fr) so I felt this harddd. This fic was exactly what I needed today, so ty for this bestie, and I hope you're doing okay now! 🖤🖤🖤

Daddy Issues | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Inspired by this song.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: There are some scars from our childhoods that just won't heal, like daddy issues will somehow always affect our relationships, especially with men. It's the trauma that makes us afraid. Matt Murdock is a considerate boyfriend and he hardly ever raises his voice, so when he lets his anger out on you, he triggers something in you that you have never told him about.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of child abuse, daddy issues (not the sexy kind), childhood trauma, yelling, crying, small injury (reader cuts her finger), not proofread

A/n: This is entirely self-indulgent. I won't tell you why exactly, but let's just say today was not a good day and I needed to write this to feel better. It helped, for the most part. If you have/had a father who yells a lot and likes to blame you for everything, this is for you. But also basically everyone who's afraid of men yelling at you because you've been traumatized before. This has not been proofread or beta-d. It’s just a silly little comfort fic.

Tags: (people who answered the original idea and I think would enjoy this or asked to be tagged)

@igotanidea @lina-mar @redzie02 @hellskitchens-whore

[not my gif, credits to the owner mentioned under the gif]

In the heat of the moment, some people raise their voices. May it be a fight or a moment of excitement. When we get angry, we often resort to a louder volume and sometimes even verbal abuse. We say things we don’t mean. We wouldn’t be human if that didn’t happen sometimes, although most fights can be resolved by talking civilly. There is no point in screaming when talking like adults is a viable option that won’t hurt anyone. But it hardly ever happens, not when both parties are already worked up to the point of no return.

For you, there has not been a fight or discussion in your life that hasn’t resulted in a screaming match. Your parents often yelled at each other. You grew up like this, the voices of your fighting parents constantly in the back of your head until the day they divorced. And even after that, you figure you started hallucinating their fights whenever the world went quiet around you so you would have some noise in the back of your head.

Your father was the one who screamed the most. He yelled and scolded you whenever you didn’t act according to his standards or made even the smallest of mistakes, didn’t do something or just used the wrong tone with him, something that often didn’t sit right with him.

He always resorted to screaming. The context never really mattered, he just got louder, harsher and he used words that would confuse every kid and make their tiny brains overflow with the guilt they caused. And when you cried, he only waved it off because “there is no reason to cry, I’m just stating the facts”.

It traumatized you in a way many children who grew up in such families understand, and he made you believe that every man in your life has a reason to yell at you, to use you, to abuse you and constantly ask you for things even though you can’t possibly match up to all of their expectations.

You always expect to be yelled at by the men in your life. Even the smallest hint of the disappointment in someone’s voice makes you anxious and more often than not, you start to cry. It’s your defense mechanism. You’re fragile and you get scared easily. A switch gets flicked and you’re suddenly standing in the same house you grew up in, letting your father rain hell down on you because you were too scared to fight back.

The constant screaming made you scared of men, and it made you more careful with what you say or do around others. You tread carefully. You try to please and not to screw up too much, too scared of the consequences and possible negative reactions. In school, you used to do the same, always wanting to please the teachers and when they raised their voices, you often excused yourself and were left shaking and crying in the bathroom. 

Matt Murdock has always been a man with a heavy internal conflict, and that conflict resulted in anger issues and his ever-present catholic guilt. When you met him, he came across as attractive yet dominant, and that scared you a little until you talked for the first time in the middle of a cozy coffee shop and he showed how soft of a man he actually is. He keeps himself locked away and that might make him seem unapproachable, but he isn’t. He’s the kindest man you have ever met, and his heart is set right. Out of all the lovers you’ve had, he is truly the best and most considerate when it comes to your relationship.

He treats you like you’re the universe to him and when you fight, it’s more often bickering than it is an exchange of vulgarities and screams. He takes his anger out on punching bags, not you, and when he hurts someone, it’s often criminals who deserve his wrath. His life is complicated, but it’s easier with you in it. He feels alive, he’s told you, and he wouldn’t trade that for the world, so he always makes sure you’re taken care of and happy before he looks after himself.

There is, of course, the issue with his enhanced senses. He’s blind but his senses are enhanced to an extent that most blind people don’t have. You found out about that early on in your relationship, but there’s never been a doubt in your mind about the love you feel for him, so it was no hard choice to stay.

Though dating the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen comes with its collection of issues. More often than not you have to stitch him up or search him in dark alleys and trash cans because he keeps getting in trouble, and the worry often eats you alive. Still, you comfort him when he’s had a bad day, always, and you make him the spotlight of your life every time. In your mind, taking care of him comes first.

But Matt always gives back. It’s his Catholicism, you’re sure of that. He can’t take help. He has to be the one doing the work and moving mountains. He is God’s disciple and he feels responsible for his city and the people living in it. His blindness feels like a gift given to him by God to conquer all possible battles, and while you don’t really believe in God, you have accepted that part of him with open arms and more often than not join him in his faith because life with him is surely not the easiest.

When Matt Murdock feels overwhelmed, he tries not to show it. He’d rather lock himself away than burden you. He’d rather struggle on his own than put the people he loves in danger or hurt them with his personal struggles and the pain that consumes him.

Matt is patient and he doesn’t care if you screw up, even though you apologize profusely most of the time. He’s patient because we’re all human. We all screw up. That is the principle that he lives by and he makes you feel like you can be more of yourself around him. So after a year, there are no more reservations and you feel a lot more comfortable in your skin.

Until this day, he had never let his anger out on you, and he had never opened his mouth to yell at you in any way. Until that day.

He’s different when he comes home. He finds himself at his wit's end, and he has been ever since that godforsaken murder trial started. When he comes home, you don’t think much of his distance toward you, the denial of a proper kiss, and his grunts as he lowers himself on the couch instead of asking you about your day. You don’t think much until it all goes wrong, and you’re not even sure at what point it does or what you did to deserve this, but there has to be a reason because the man you’re seeing right now is not the Matt you usually get to see.

We all have bad days sometimes, others more often, but this seems deeper than just a bad day at the courthouse. This is not the face of an exhausted man after a long work day that just needs some kisses and maybe a blowjob, or to have sex with his girlfriend in all his dominant glory with aftercare to put the cherry on top. This is not Matt Murdock, this is the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen that comes through the front door, tosses his cane into a corner, and then just falls on the couch like a wet sack of potatoes, his fists clenched as if he is ready to explode any second.

You’ve been taught to tread carefully, so you do. You approach him only slowly because you are worried, you always are. Perhaps it’s the line of questioning that has him exploding in no time.

“You okay?” you ask.

He props his feet up on the living room table and huffs. “Fine,” he says.

“You don’t look fine. Did something happen?”

You’ve brought him a glass of water, which he takes with a curt nod. Something is bothering him, but he won’t talk to you.

“Bad day at work?”

“It doesn’t matter now. I’m fine. I just want to forget that today ever happened.”

“You want some coffee?” you decide to ask instead.

“No,” he says.

His leg starts to bounce. It only does when he is agitated or overstimulated and is trying to deal with the world around him. 

“Do you want me to run you a bath?”

He sighs. “No.”

“We still have leftovers, maybe I could warm them up.”

His tone is harsher this time, “No!”

You blink, a little taken aback by the force in his voice and involuntarily, you start to shake.

“I just want to be alone,” he adds, softer this time. “Can you… you know what, I’m just gonna get changed.”

And like that, he is gone. He disappears into the bedroom and you’re left flabbergasted. You want to ask what’s wrong, but you’re scared. You’ve never been scared of him before. It’s not him, it’s his reaction, and so you retreat into the kitchen. 

Eventually, he comes out again, though he is still missing a shirt. “Have you seen my Columbia sweater?” he asks, the lights of the billboard reflecting off his marble skin. 

“It’s in the washer,” you tell him.

“Why?”

“Because it’s dirty. Matt, what is going on?” You place your mug down and look at him, eyes soft and full of concern.

He only rolls his. “I just want my sweater.” Grabbing the used shirt from the chair at the dinner table, he slips it on. It’s not the fabric he wanted and he tenses up, hating the new sensation already.

“Are you sure this is about your sweater? You’ve been on me ever since you got in.”

“Yes, because you keep asking useless questions.”

“Useless?” You scoff. “So my interest and worry for you are useless?” 

If there is one thing you have gotten good at it has to be defending yourself.

He brushes past you to get a beer from the fridge. “I told you, I’m fine.” He is good at brushing you off because he doesn’t like to admit when he feels weaker than usual.

“You don’t look fine.”

“Oh, my God, then stop fucking looking!”

“Okay, what the hell is your problem?”

He scoffs. “You don’t get it.”

“What don’t I get?”

“Everything.”

“Enlighten me then.”

“It’s not…” his chuckle is bitter. “Well, I guess it doesn’t matter. You’re gonna keep seeing problems where there are none, so talking to you makes no sense anyway.”

What did he just say? You are so confused and suddenly very angry that you forget you are holding a glass. You smash it down on the counter, and, as expected, it shatters into a million pieces. Most of them fall to the floor and right at his bare feet. His eyes darken.

Oh.

Now you are scared, and not in a way that resembles sexy foreplay. You are scared because he is turning into a stranger right before your eyes. Suddenly, all you can see is not your loving boyfriend Matt Murdock, you see the anger of both your father and your stepfather in his eyes and hear it in his voice and it instantly tells you, 'this is all your fault'.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble. “I didn’t see…”

“One night,” he says. He moves out of the kitchen, trying not to step into the glass.

You follow him with wide eyes. “What’s that?” 

“One night,” he repeats his earlier statement. “That’s all I wanted. One fucking night where people don’t prod or- or want things from me. And what do you do? You keep talking and talking, and you don’t even care that I simply don’t want to talk.”

“Matt, that is not fair. I just wanted to-“ the tears start to prick in your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Jesus Christ.” And that’s where your strength stops and you retreat into your shell – the next words out of his mouth come so loud, you could have sworn they echoed off the brick walls and shot straight into your eardrums. “For once in your life, stop fucking apologizing!” 

His hand lifts, mostly to underline his words, and with the bottle in his hand he is suddenly so close, your eyes squeeze shut at the gush of wind. You flinch, your entire body caving in on itself. It’s not even intentional, you can’t help it. You’ve been conditioned to expect the worst when someone raises their hand, and Matt has never done it before. 

He realizes what it looks like the second your heart jumps and your blood rushes loudly in his ear. He can smell your sweat, the tears, and the fear that surrounds you. It’s your pheromones that change and something lingers in the air that makes him stop and think, what did I just do? 

He has been so in his head and the city has been loud for hours, he lost most of his patience at the courthouse, and then you’re there all caring and lovely and he can’t help but tell himself he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve you. He just wants quiet and to be alone while at the same time, all he wants is you, but it’s too much. It’s all too much.

And now, as you flinch away from him and his booming voice, he snaps back to reality and realizes he made a mistake. He’s never experienced you like this before, and it scares him. 

“Did you just…” he begins, his voice soft and barely above a whisper.

He hears you fall to your knees, the taste of salt thick in the air and your breath shakes with every intake. You bite your lip and you collect the shards, trying to clean up your mess as if he would hate you if you didn’t. You whisper a silent, “Sorry.” And then he hears it. You’re sobbing, you try not to but you are, and it is his fault.

“Did you think I was gonna hit you?” he asks, dreading the answer.

You sniffle, not answering.

You flinched, he heard it, and not because you were surprised. You are scared, he knows. 

He slowly approaches the kitchen. “Sweetheart, talk to me.”

“I just gotta clean this up,” you whimper and you brush the glass together with shaky hands. The tears are running down your cheeks in thick streams and your teeth have gnawed your bottom lip bloody, your throat dry with the denied sobs.

“I just gotta clean this up and then I can make you dinner or something. I don’t… I can fix this. I’ll fix this. I’m sorry.”

It’s your fault, you tell yourself. You pushed him. You deserve this. He worked hard the entire day and you annoyed him. He has every right to do this. In your head, at least. It makes all sense in your head while in reality, Matt has never been more shocked to read your body language than he is now.

He slowly kneels in front of you. “Answer me this,” he says, “did you flinch because you thought I was gonna hit you or because I yelled?”

You shrug, unable to look at him. One of the shards slides across your finger and you hiss, the smallest cut forming and causing blood to pool out of your skin. Still, you don’t stop. You need to clean this up before he gets even angrier at you. In your state, you don’t realize his voice has softened and he no longer stares at you with those blacked-out eyes. He looks sympathetic, almost, but most of all the guilt has spread throughout his features and his heart. He is aching to touch you, but you are scared and shaking and he doesn’t want to hurt you any further than he already has.

He had been so ignorant that he didn’t see the signs before.

“Why are you crying?” he asks again.

You wipe your cheeks. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you. It’s my fault,” you say. “I’ll clean this up, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

“Hey.”

“No, I gotta-”

“Stop.” His hand is on your arm then. “You cut yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” it’s a mantra you’ve taught yourself to say in the hopes you could somehow fix this before it’s too late.

But it’s not too late. When you finally look up, he’s smiling softly, and his thumb is stroking over your skin in circles. 

“I’m sorry,” it’s his turn to say it. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. None of this is your fault. I was so caught up in my own shit, I… God, I would never hit you. I just- I didn’t think when I raised my hand. I didn’t think what it might look like to you. And I didn’t think when I yelled because I… in my head, I wasn’t thinking.”

Your facade cracks even more to the point you are seethrough and your defenses have fallen completely. You’re a snotty mess, shaking violently in his grasp. 

“I’m trying, I swear I’m trying to be better. Just don’t be angry with me,” your voice is bordering on helpless little sobs, your lips turned downward and God, you are shaking so badly, you haven’t done so since the last fight with your father when you were a teenager. 

Matt’s face softens even more, but there is a pain in there too. He takes a paper towel to wrap around your injured finger and he holds your hand, not sure if he is allowed to touch anywhere else, but he wants you to know he is here and he is going nowhere. He is neither mad nor is he going to break up with you. You try to tell yourself that, but it’s hard with the demon in your head whispering all those awful things into your ear, reminding you that everything bad that happens can only be your fault and that there is no use for you but to destroy and disappoint. But you don’t want to disappoint, you want him to be proud of you. You want him to hold you and tell you everything is alright. But you’re scared and you feel so stupidly guilty for something you can’t even put a finger on. Your bleeding finger.

“Angry with you?” he says. “No.” Matt chuckles, but it’s broken and almost whiny as he does so. “I’m not angry at you, bug. Of course not. I was just angry with the world. I was angry at everything else, but not you. I’m not angry at you. I couldn’t possibly be. I’m sorry, it wasn’t fair of me to take it out on you. I realize that now. And the glass…” he forces you away from the chaos gently, helping you stand up without hurting yourself further. “It’s just glass,” he tells you. “I’ll clean it up. There’s nothing bad about breaking something.”

“But the mess,” you say. 

“Fuck the mess. The whole apartment’s a mess.”

“I’m so sorry! I can clean it. I can clean up, I promise. I just… I’m so sorry, Matt.”

“Stop apologizing, baby, please. The mess doesn’t matter. The apartment doesn’t matter, and the glass does not fucking matter. None of this is your fault. You didn’t do anything but try to help. I had no right to yell at you. And my hand… I would never hit you. Never.” He squeezes your hand. “I love you.”

You hiccup, whimpering when he pulls you away from the glass on the floor and pulls you into his arms. His chin rests on the crown of your head and you mold into him, the tears taking on new speed and wetting through his shirt. He strokes your back, not sure what else to do, and his lips find your temple. “God, I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that, none of that.”

You cling tighter to him. 

He keeps asking himself the same question over and over again. “Who hurt you?” he asks. It’s a valid question. A fear like that doesn’t just stem from nothing. Something happened in the past to have traumatized you this badly. 

Your breathing eventually slows down, as do your tears, and you look up at him through swollen eyes. His white shirt is wet now, but he doesn’t care, he only hugs you back to his chest. “My father used to yell at me whenever I did something wrong,” you tell him, your voice muffled through his chest, but he understands every word. 

His grip tightens. “Did he hit you?”

“Sometimes, but… I remember that one time I forgot to clean up after myself and he just… he…” The lack of oxygen makes you shudder and you hiccup again, nails digging into his back. “I’m sorry, he just… yelled at me. Sometimes, he’d slap me, but only sometimes. He’d threaten most of the time, but he didn’t do it often. And I mean, I was a hard kid to raise, I-“

“No, don’t blame yourself,” he is quick to cut you off. “You were a kid.”

You shudder again. “Well, I… you know, he blamed me for the smallest of things, so I got used to apologizing and trying to please everyone, but I can’t always do that. I try to fix things, but it doesn’t always work. He used to yell at me every damn time and I just… I get scared. I don’t like it when people raise their voices. It makes me feel so guilty and now I even broke a glass. That’s my fault. I shouldn’t have… you had a bad day, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cry like this. I swear I’m not a baby.”

You move away to rub your eyes. He grabs your face, smoothing the pads of his thumbs over your wet cheeks. The heat has pooled under the skin in an upset blush. 

“Don’t apologize,” he says. “It’s okay to cry. If I’d known, baby, I…” Matt can only shake his head in disbelief.

He loves you more than anything and to see you hurting because of something another man did to you, a man who is supposed to protect you, makes him feel all kinds of things, but none of them positive. 

But his anger doesn’t matter. This is about you. He has to take care of you now, not himself, and definitely not your father. It’s just you on his mind.

You choke on nothing. “He told me I have no reason to cry because he’s just stating facts.”

Matt clicks his tongue. “No, don’t ever think that again. You have every right to cry when you feel the need to.”

“It makes me weak,” you say.

“Your father’s wrong. You’re the strongest person I know,” he says. “And the fact that he yelled at you and blamed you for things that were out of your control… no one has the right to treat you like that, not even your parents, and he should have never even thought about raising his hand against you. That’s abuse. I can’t believe- fuck! Do you understand that it wasn’t your fault? That he had no right to do that?”

“Yes, but… it happened. Maybe I deserved some of those slaps. I mean you… I- I don’t know. It happened, we can’t change it. And who knows, maybe he was right.”

“Stop it! That’s not true and you know it.”

“I know, but-“

“No buts, sweetheart. I would never raise my hand against you, I promise. I’m not like your father. No one should be like him. You deserve so much better.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” you sniffle, “it was just instinct.”

“Shh,” Matt kisses you gently, “I know. It’s like me dodging punches in a fight. It’s a defense mechanism. Your father, I… you’ve never said anything. I would’ve never suspected this.”

“‘Cause I didn’t think it was important. This never happened before. You never yelled before.”

“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry. You should have told me,” he says. “It’s important to me. The last thing I wanted was to hurt you. I want you to feel comfortable around me, not scared.”

You nod. “And I am, really, it’s just… I thought I did something wrong.”

His smile is soft when he leans in to kiss you again, tasting the tears on your lips. “You didn’t. I let my anger out on you for no reason. You didn’t deserve that. It won’t happen again, I promise,” and he dives right back in. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, relaxing in his arms as his lips move against yours with sweet precision, making you feel lightheaded. He scared you, that much is true, but it was neither you nor his fault and you realize that now, safe in his arms as he proves his devotion to you with a single breath into your mouth. With his gentle touch around your waist he promises never to hurt you, never to let his anger out on you again, and he promises that he will drive himself to hell personally if he ever scares you like that again because he couldn’t forgive himself if anything happened to you because of him. He couldn’t live with himself if he broke your heart or triggered the trauma you brought into the relationship from your broken childhood, and he promises that he will never leave you, never put you second and always hold you when times get hard because people screw up, bad things happen, and you might be at fault sometimes, but so is he and there is no reason to be put down for being human. He wants to teach you that, he wants to help you heal yourself, and you have never felt more in love than at that moment, losing yourself in his lips, eyes and arms.

He breaks the kiss, moving on to your forehead. “If there is anything else I need to know,” he breathes hotly against your already heated skin, and the exhaustion slowly starts to seep into your bones as the shakes and tension subside from your bones, “please tell me before I make another mistake that might trigger you.”

You take in a deep breath, shaking your head. “There is not much else. My childhood wasn’t the best, but that’s okay,” you say. 

He brushes his knuckles over your cheekbone. “Bad enough. Promise you’ll tell me if something else might come up?” He resembles a puppy as he tries to meet your eyes, but he fails miserably.

So you promise him, “Okay.”

“Can you forgive me for yelling?”

Your tears have finally come to a halt. “Yes,” you say. 

“Thank you.”

Your eyes fall on the mess on the kitchen floor again and you go to grab the broom. Matt’s arm around your frame stop you and he gently pushes you out of the kitchen. “Let me clean it up,” he says. “Put a bandaid on your finger and then go lie down. I’ll deal with it.”

“No, I broke it. Please, Matt, let me do this.”

“Not everything is your fault, sweetheart. Besides, you already cut yourself once and with how you’re shaking, the next time you accidentally cut yourself I’m sure you’re gonna cause more damage.”

“But I-”

“Go to bed,” he insists, “I’ll be there in a second and then we’ll cuddle so you know I’m serious when I say that I love you more than life itself.”

The weight and guilt fall off your heart. “I love you,” you tell him. “More than life itself, too.”

It’s not a lie. If there is anything or anyone you love, it’s him, and you’ve never been this in love with anyone before. It’s sickening to the point it hurts, but the pain is sweet and it’s all worth it because with Matt, you can be yourself. 

The past matters just a little less with someone who loves you right by your side, and he would never give up on you like everyone else did before him. 

[kaylasficrecs]

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ fic rec masterlist ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

✩ if one of the fics is yours and would like me to remove it, pls let me know by messaging me ✩

billy the kid

william bonney

bridgerton

benedict bridgerton

criminal minds

spencer reid ⋆ part 2 ⋆ part 3

detective comics

damian wayne

dick grayson

jason todd 

grishaverse

kaz brekker ⋆ part 2

nikolai lantsov

harry potter

lightning era

cedric diggory

draco malfoy

harry potter

lorenzo berkshire

mattheo riddle ⋆ part 2

theodore nott ⋆ part 2

marauders era

james potter ⋆ part 2

remus lupin ⋆ part 2

hunger games

coriolanus snow

marvel cinematic universe

loki laufeyson

peter parker ⋆ part 2 ⋆ part 3

marc spector

matt murdock

miguel o’hara ⋆ part 2

outer banks

jj maybank ⋆ part 2

rafe cameron

peaky blinders

thomas shelby

percy jackson and the olympians

luke castellan

real person fiction

actors

drew starkey

jack champion

tom blyth

tom holland

nfl & nhl

jack hughes

joe burrow

singers

harry styles ⋆ part 2

scream

ethan landry

supernatural

dean winchester

jack kline

sam winchester

star wars

anakin skywalker

cal kestis

poe dameron

stranger things

steve harrington ⋆ part 2

ted lasso

jamie tartt ⋆ part 2

sam obisanya

the bear

carmen berzatto ⋆ part 2

(chef) luca ⋆ to be posted soon

the summer i turned pretty

conrad fisher

top gun

bradley bradshaw

jake seresin

javy machado

twisters

tyler owens