#i even had my murdock jacket on what a day lol

[chiosblog]

GUYS ajdjsofnksnsks

I met a real celebrity today WTF

Look how majestic it is 💓

(but not much comfortable inside tho 😂)

[loveroftoomanyfandoms]

Cooking Up Love, Chapter 5

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

Rating: T (for now, might change, probably won't)

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, but he is a naughty-minded flirt 😉

Word Count: exactly 3200 for this chapter

A/N: And we're back! Thank you to everyone who's been enjoying this story so far, and please let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list for this or any of my others!

(Thanks to @theradioactivespidergwen for the divider she made for me!)

Tag List: @yarrystyleeza @hailey-murdock @mattkinsella @bellaxgiornata @danzer8705 @chezagnes @shouldbestudying41 @thepunisherfrankcastle

Ugh, this is ridiculous, you thought to yourself the next morning as you tossed yet another rejected outfit onto your bed.  You had been torn between wanting to dress professionally since you were technically working and wearing something more casual since you knew you would be watching Chef Murdock cook and didn't want to accidentally ruin one of your nicer outfits, and had ransacked your closet in order to find something in-between. It's not like it actually matters what I wear anyway.

Finally you pulled on a pair of jeans and a cute-but-casual top then hurriedly finished getting ready before heading towards Daredevil.

You sucked in a breath as you spotted Chef Murdock waiting for you outside of the restaurant. Goddamn, even dressed casually he's sexy as all hell.

He was dressed in a black T-shirt and jeans today, paired with black sneakers and a comfortably-worn-looking brown leather jacket.

His head turned towards you as you approached. "Good morning," he said with a smile.

"Hi," you replied. "How'd you know it was me?"

"You slowed down as you approached me," Chef Murdock replied. "If it hadn't been you you more than likely wouldn't have changed your pace, so I made an educated guess."

"Oh, okay, yeah, that makes sense." You shook your head. "I guess you kinda have to pay extra attention to your surroundings, huh?"

Chef Murdock nodded. “Yeah, I’ve had to learn to utilize my remaining senses to adapt to the environment around me.”

He held a to-go cup of coffee out towards you. "Here, I picked up some coffee for you. I wasn't exactly sure what you'd want so I got you something based on what you were drinking at the Bulletin the other day."

Your eyebrows raised. To you your coffee always smelled like, well, coffee, but Chef Murdock was trained in the culinary arts -- he could probably tell what sweeteners and syrups were in a cup of coffee just from the scent alone.

You took a sip then nodded in approval. "This is great. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Chef Murdock took a sip of his own coffee. "So since any culinary dish starts with its ingredients, I thought we'd begin our cooking demo at the farmer's market this morning."

You nodded. "Okay, yeah, that sounds great. Do you mind if I record our conversation while we walk? Sometimes something will jump out in casual conversation that's good for my article."

Chef Murdock shook his head. "Not at all."

"Great, thanks." You took your phone out of your pocket and started recording, once again stating your name, the date, and the time. "Interview of Chef Matthew Murdock, part 2."

Chef Murdock gestured down the sidewalk. "Shall we, then?"

"Sure."

You headed down the sidewalk together, the gentle tapping of Chef Murdock's cane against the pavement creating a rhythm with your steps.

"So, um, how was dinner service last night?" you asked. 

"It was… okay," Chef Murdock replied. "Not quite what I'd hoped for in terms of customers, but we're still finding our footing."

You nodded. "Well, hopefully my profile of you for the Bulletin will help get the word out."

Chef Murdock nodded. "Fingers crossed. So what about you? How was your evening? Have any big Friday night plans?"

You shook your head with a light laugh. "Not unless you counted a date with my Netflix account."

Chef Murdock chuckled. "That actually sounds really nice."

"I would ask if you got to do anything after the restaurant closed, but I'm sure you probably just went home and rested."

Chef Murdock shook his head. "Actually, I have after-hours access to a gym near my apartment, so I frequently go there to work off my energy from service before heading home."

I wonder what kind of workouts he does to gain those biceps of his , you thought as you glanced over at his arms.

"Boxing." 

You looked up at Chef Murdock's face, which was sporting a small smirk. Shit, did I say that out loud? "Pardon?"

"I said I box," Chef Murdock repeated. "It helps me blow off steam after service and focus when I'm stuck on a recipe."

"Ah, okay. So did your dad teach you how to fight?"

Chef Murdock shook his head. "No, he didn't want me to be part of that world, said he wanted better for me than to come home with bruises and broken ribs every night like he did. He encouraged me to focus on my education, said he didn’t want to see me have to struggle in life like he did."

You looked up at him as the two of you paused at a crosswalk. "I think he would be proud of you, you know."

Chef Murdock sighed. "I would hope so. Not sure he'd be too proud of the way I treated you when we first met the other day though."

You shook your head. "It’s okay, really. We all have our off days. And speaking of off days, do you get any time off to relax and do anything fun?"

Chef Murdock nodded. "I take Sunday after brunch service to relax and unwind. Sometimes Mondays too, but most Mondays I'm at the restaurant testing and perfecting new recipes."

"Like your apology tiramisu?"

Chef Murdock chuckled. "Yeah, but I'm also working on a few other recipes as well right now, appetizers and main dishes and such." 

You continued on as the crosswalk sign switched from 'stop' to 'walk'. "How long have you been at the Bulletin ?" Chef Murdock asked. 

"Five years," you replied. "I was at the Bugle for a little while before that, but the editor was only interested in unsubstantiated gossip and wouldn't let me write the kind of pieces I wanted to write."

"Which are human-interest stories?"

You nodded. "Don't get me wrong, I like to dig into a good investigative assignment just as much as the next journalist, but my stories don't always have to be hard-hitting exposés -- I want our readers to connect to the people I write about."

Chef Murdock looked contemplative. "That's admirable. So what made you want to be a journalist?"

"I've always loved listening to people talk about their lives and hearing about their hopes and dreams. One day I decided I wanted to be able to share their stories with the world and since I always had a knack for writing, I decided to become a journalist."

"Where did you go to school?"

You huffed out a light laugh. "Hey, who's interviewing who here?"

Chef Murdock grinned, his cheeks turning an adorable shade of pink. "Sorry."

You shook your head. "It's fine, I'm totally kidding. I just didn't think you'd want to hear me ramble on about myself."

Chef Murdock shook his head. "No, it's fine, I uh… Actually I really like your voice." 

Your face heated. "Oh."

Chef Murdock shrugged, suddenly looking a bit shy. "I mean, I can't recognize people by their looks, obviously, so I pay a lot of attention to people's voices. Yours sounds nice."

Your heart fluttered again. Chill out, he's not flirting with you. "Thank you. I, um, I went to Columbia, by the way."

Chef Murdock nodded. "I considered going there -- thought about being a lawyer for a while, but I ultimately decided to go to culinary school instead."

You could picture Chef Murdock in a business suit, arguing a case in front of a captivated jury. He certainly could sway my opinion. "Oh, wow, that's… quite a different career path."

"Yeah, I thought that was what my dad would have wanted me to do but I eventually realized that what he really would have wanted was for me to be happy and do what I love."

"Which is cooking."

Chef Murdock smiled. "Yeah, cooking really is my passion. I love taking different ingredients and putting them together in order to create something for people to enjoy."

"That's really nice."

The two of you slowed down as you reached the lot where the farmer's market was held. "Here we are," Chef Murdock said.

You looked at the expanse of booths. "So, um, if you don't mind me asking… how do you know which vendors are where?"

Chef Murdock smiled and shook his head. "No, I don't mind at all. The vendors all have assigned spaces, so I've learned to map out who is located where. Plus Foggy comes with me most of the time to help out, or Karen will if Foggy's not available."

"Oh, okay."

The two of you began walking down the first row of vendors. "So, what are we looking for?"

Chef Murdock shook his head. "We're just going to browse and see what we can find."

He slowed as you reached a booth featuring baskets of farm-fresh eggs. "We'll definitely need some eggs though."

You nodded. "Okay."

The two of you stopped at the booth.

"Good morning, Chef," the vendor said. "How can I help you today?"

"Morning, Oscar," Chef Murdock replied. "We'd like a dozen eggs, please."

"Of course." The vendor waved a hand at the baskets of eggs. "Take your pick."

Chef Murdock reached out and felt the eggs in one of the baskets. "We'll take these."

The vendor nodded. "Alrighty then."

He took the eggs out of the basket and set them in a cardboard carton. "That'll be $5."

Chef Murdock took his wallet out of his pocket and opened it before taking out a $5 bill and handing it to the vendor.

The vendor took it then handed Chef Murdock the carton of eggs. "Here you go, Chef. See you next week."

Matt gave the vendor a slight nod. "Thanks, Oscar. See ya."

The two of you continued on, stopping occasionally to chat with different vendors and purchase various fruits and vegetables. You watched in fascination as Chef Murdock took his time choosing each one, squeezing and smelling each individual item before deciding whether or not it was worth purchasing.

Finally you asked, "how can you tell if something is ripe or not?"

"Each individual fruit and vegetable has a distinct firmness and smell to them," Chef Murdock replied as the two of you stopped at a booth that was selling mangos. "I've learned to determine at what point they're at their ripest."

He picked up a mango. "Like mangos, for instance."

He took your hand and placed the mango in it. "Feel how firm this one is?"

You nodded, trying to focus on the fruit in your hand and not how Chef Murdock's touch was making your heart start to race. "Uh huh."

"Now smell it."

You held the mango up to your nose. "I don't smell anything."

"That means it's not quite ripe yet." Chef Murdock took the mango and set another one in your hand. "On the other hand, this one is a bit overripe."

You squeezed the mango, this one much softer than the other. "Okay."

Chef Murdock held a third mango up to your nose. "Smell this one."

You inhaled, a slightly mango-y scent filling your nostrils. "It smells like mango."

Chef Murdock nodded. "Exactly."

He swapped the mango currently in your hand with the one in his. "Now feel it."

You squeezed. It had more give than the first one but less than the second. "Okay, yeah, I can tell the difference."

"This one is perfectly ripe." Chef Murdock took the mango back, his fingertips slowly grazing your palm as he did so.

You swallowed. You couldn't deny that Chef Murdock was extremely attractive, but you were there to do your job, not lust after the man. Keep it professional.

You waited as he selected a few more mangos and paid the vendor before moving on. 

You reached the last row of booths and stopped in front of one called Claire-romatherapy.

The vendor walked over to the two of you with a smile on her face. "Morning, Matt."

Chef Murdock grinned. "Morning, Claire."

He turned to introduce the two of you. "Claire helps run the community garden near my apartment," he explained. "I grow herbs there."

"Ah, okay," you replied. "It's nice to meet you."

"You too," Claire said. "So what brings you two by today?"

Matt adjusted the bag he was carrying on his shoulder. "Actually, I'm almost out of that lemon soap and I was wondering if you had any in stock."

Claire nodded. "Actually, yeah, let me grab some for you. How many did you need today?"

"I'll take two. Thanks."

"Sure thing."

You picked up a soy-based candle and gave it a sniff, the subtle scent of coconut and mahogany filling your nose. "Mmm. How much are your candles?"

Claire glanced over at you from where she was sorting through a bin of various soaps. "Six for the smaller ones, ten for the large."

You nodded and went to dig your wallet out of your purse. 

Chef Murdock placed a hand on your arm. "I've got it."

You shook your head. "Oh, no, I couldn't possibly --"

"No, I insist." Chef Murdock smiled at you. "Considering I'm the one who dragged you out here at 8 AM on a Saturday it's the least I can do."

You bit your lip, then sighed as you put your wallet away. "Okay then. Thank you."

"Alright," Claire said, returning with Chef Murdock's soap. "Total comes to sixteen dollars."

Chef Murdock handed her some cash. "I'll see you next week, Claire."

"Okay. Take care, Matt." Claire turned towards you. "And it was very nice to meet you." 

"You too," you replied.

"Alright, I think that's everything," Chef Murdock said as the two of you walked back towards the entrance. "Let's get back to the restaurant."

You nodded as you headed down the sidewalk together, excited to find out what sort of culinary creation Chef Murdock had in mind.

"Okay," Matt said half an hour later as he set a plate of crepes topped with fresh fruit, honey, and whipped cream in front of where you sat at the prep counter in the kitchen at Daredevil.

After finishing up at the farmer's market the two of you had gone back to the restaurant, where you had watched Matt prepare breakfast.

Matt had admittedly shown off his skills a bit, making perfectly cooked crepes and slicing the fruit with culinary precision before making freshly whipped cream.

"Oh my gosh, this looks amazing," you said.

Matt smiled as he set his own plate down across from you. "Hopefully it tastes as good as it looks then."

He waited as you cut a piece and took a bite. He knew every ingredient was exactly as it should be but was still nervous about your reaction.

You let out a moan. "Ohmigod ."

Matt sucked in a breath, his mind wandering to other sorts of situations in which he could get you to make those pleased sounds for him. He knew you were attracted to him -- all of the physiological signs he had picked up on had pointed to such -- and the more he had gotten to know you over the past several days, the more attracted he found himself becoming towards you in return. 

He cleared his throat, fighting to keep his thoughts professional.  "Good?"

You made a sound of affirmation as you took another bite. "Please tell me that your crepes are on the Sunday brunch menu."

Matt chuckled as he took a bite of his own crepes. "As a matter of fact, they are."

You took a sip of the freshly-squeezed orange juice Matt had also prepared. "Mmm, good, because now I know what I'm doing tomorrow morning."

Come home with me tonight and I'll make you all the crepes you want. 

Matt could imagine himself in his apartment's kitchen, making breakfast as you sat at his kitchen island wearing nothing but one of his shirts after a night of passionate lovemaking.

He mentally shook his head. He would definitely need to blow off some steam at the gym after service tonight. "I'm glad you like them."

You made another pleased sound. "These are amazing, honestly."

The two of you continued eating in comfortable silence. Once you were finished, you set your fork onto your plate. "That was so good."

Matt smiled. "Thanks."

He picked up your plates and brought them to the sink to wash them later, then turned towards the receiving door as the bell rang. "Oh, excuse me one second."

He walked over and answered it, the smell of motor oil and fresh blood filling his nostrils. "Hey, Frank."

"Hiya, Red," Frank replied. "I've got your delivery for today."

Matt nodded. "Come on in."

Frank wheeled the cooler with the fresh meat Matt had ordered into the kitchen, pausing when he saw you. "I didn't realize you had company. I could've come later."

Matt shook his head before introducing you. "She's doing a profile on me for the Bulletin. "

He gestured back to Frank. "This is Frank Castle. He's our meat supplier for the restaurant."

"Nice to meet you," you said.

"Likewise, ma'am," Frank replied.

Matt took the clipboard Frank handed him, feeling for the sticky flag he needed to sign by. "Give me just a second to take care of this."

"Actually, I should get going," you said. "I'm sure you have to start prepping for service soon and I don't want to be in the way."

As much as Matt didn't want you to have to go, you were right. He nodded. "Give me just a second and I'll walk you out."

"Okay."

He finished signing off on the meat order and handed the clipboard back to Frank. "Thanks, Frank."

Frank shook his hand. "No problem, Red, see ya Tuesday. Ma'am."

"Nice to meet you," you said.

Matt waited until the rumble of Frank's truck faded off into the distance before turning back to you. "By the way, if you're ever looking for someone interesting to profile, Frank's your guy."

"Oh?" you replied curiously as he escorted you towards the front door.

Matt nodded. "He's a former military veteran who was shot in the head while overseas then lost his wife and kids in a shootout between two rival gangs."

You sucked in a breath. "Oh my gosh, that's awful."

"He became a rancher in order to help with the PTSD and is now one of the biggest beef suppliers in New York."

"I'll definitely keep him in mind then. Thanks."

You both paused as you reached the door. 

"I… I had a really nice time today, Chef Murdock," you finally said. "Thanks for everything."

"No problem." Matt rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Um, you know… you can call me Matt if you'd like."

"Okay," you said, a smile in your voice. "Thanks… Matt."

Matt smiled at the way his first name rolled off your tongue. "You're welcome."

"I'll see you tomorrow?"

Matt nodded. "Have Karen let me know that you're here and I'll come say hi."

"I will."

Matt unlocked the door. "See you tomorrow."

He sighed as he let you out then locked the door behind you. It was getting more and more difficult to fight the mutual attraction between you… and honestly, he wasn't sure if he even wanted to keep fighting it.

[that-one-weeb-buts-its-the-main]

Being Frank Castle's Daughter in Hawkins Pt 3

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reader: female | Age: 17-18 range

Characters Mentioned: Frank Castle (MCU), Matt Murdock (briefly, MCU), Kate Bishop (Briefly, MCU), Peter Parker (briefly, MCU), Ant-Man (Briefly, MCU), Black Window (Briefly, MCU), Thor Odinson (briefly MCU), Steve Rogers (Briefly, MCU), Bucky Barnes (briefly, MCU) Ghost rider (once, MCU), Bruce Banner (once, MCU), Pietro Maximoff (Once, MCU), Deadpool (Once, MCU), Steve Harrington (ST), Billy Hargrove (ST), Nancy Wheeler (ST), Eddie Munson (briefly, ST) Dustin Henderson (briefly, ST) Mike Wheeler (briefly, ST), Max Mayfield (briefly, ST), Neil Hargrove (briefly, ST), Mrs.Wheeler (briefly, ST) Holly Wheeled (Briefly, ST), Mr. And Mrs. Harrington (ST)

type: headcanons + drabbles (unnecessary long ones too lol)

A/N: im glad you guys are liking this

Warnings: Y/n beats ass, also Y/n gets stabbed by a fork, Mrs.Harrington being the biggest ass and shoving her religion down your throat, this part really has it out for our reader, also Mrs.Harrington called you a dyke so fuck her, mentions of scars and Past abuse from Neil at Billy

✧▬ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ▬✧

Hawkins, you had called the place home for about a month and a half, and with fall in full swing and break coming up, things were starting to get busy

Halloween was coming up and it was just as a big thing in Hawkins as it was in New York

You always loved Halloween, it's good fun, plus the colors were always a nice contrast to New York and its grayness

And you had a habit of dressing up as shitty put-together costumes of superheroes to make your friends laugh after all you were meant to be them the best one was spiderman

By best, it means crack head energy one

Good time good times

The Bully continued though: so no good times :(

You're basically annoyed at this point, Like would you find a few ways to harass me thanks, Wiping away marker day after day just seems like, no thought put into it

With the last week of school coming up, well, that was different.

Steve had started sitting with you during lunch, till he finally spits it out that he and Nancy had split a few weeks ago.

But you felt like he had been holding on for a while to that

So with him now girlfriend less and Tommy and Carol free he spent lunch with you.

"So what are you gonna be for Halloween?" Steve asked.

Y/n shrugged, "who knows. I was thinking something superhero."

"Like Black widow?" Steve asked.

"Try Ant-Man."

"Ant-Man? Please." he rolled his eyes, causing Y/n to chuckle.

"Oops!"

The harmless laughter was soon cut off by food being dumped straight onto her head.

"Oh no!" A girl aspirated, loudly, "not my milk too!"

Y/n and Steve were too in shock to even move, Y/n being covered in sloppy joe, mashed potatoes, and strawberry milk. The whole cafeteria went silent as the girl's laughter filled the silence.

"You don't mind if I take yours right?" She asked, "Accidents happen all the time."

The girl took the milk from Y/n's barely-touched tray and walked off to the center between all the tables, walking down as if it was some runway with her friends.

"That's It!" Y/n shouted standing up the whole table rocking as she did so.

"y/n! Y/n!" Steve called as she walked from between the tables, pulling her jean jacket off and wiping her face on it before tossing it aside, "Heather get the FUCK back here!"

The teen turned around, smirking at her as her friends laughed.

"Aw. Little nobody wants to get in a cat fight?" She mocked, watching Y/n take off her belt, "She's a whore too! Gonna undress for the whole school are you?"

Steve ran in beside her, "Y/n if you fight them-"

"It's not a fight if all I do is beat there ass." Y/n defended, "So go back to your see. Now."

Steve gulped back up towards the table. "Go sit down with you little bitch friends," Heather ordered as Y/n stood there.

The cafeteria was silent, all eyes on Y/n as she sniffled something itching her nose as she wrapped her belt around her palm and knuckles letting it go down her forearm and tightening it on her arm. The girls looked at each other and laughed under their breath.

"Is that supposed to scare me?" She asked as she started forward towards Y/n stopping barely an inch apart.

"This is your warning." Y/n demanded calmly, "you walk away, and you apologize to Steve for calling him a name."

"And if I don't?" She spoke.

Y/n nodded looking down, Heather laughing: all bark and no bite.

Y/n calmly placed her hand on Heather's shoulder, and quickly gut punched her hard, Heather crumbling to the ground in pain wheezing for pain as Y/n pushed her over easy with her foot.

"Someone else wanna come at me!" Y/n shouted.

"Y/n! Behind you!"

Y/n turned around too slow just to be rushed at by one of the girl's boyfriends, she was driven into a support pillar as he punched at her gut.

"YEAH! GET EM Y/N!" Eddie cheered, the whole cafeteria in uproar: apparently Y/n's not the only one these guys were fucking with.

Grabbing him by his hair she dragged him near a table and tossed him into it, it hit him in the gut as Y/n grabbed him by the hair once more and threw him to the floor. Another boyfriend jumped in, pulling Y/n by her hair she struggled against his grasp but dropped onto her knees, he was thrown off balance causing him to jolt forward as she grabbed him by his arms and flipped him over her, sending him to the ground and hard. She stood back up seeing the girls at the end of the cafeteria scram as quick as they could.

"Knife!"

Y/n turned her head, seeing the first boy come at her with a small pocket knife, his swings sloppy and clearly just aiming for her face, she dodged and landed a punch across his face, clean hard, and fast.

Billy Fucking Hargrove had come from no where to help, finished with his cigarette, and grabbed him pulling him away from her and beating him up. Heather had grabbed someone's metal fork from their tray in silence and rushed at Y/n, getting her in the upper shoulder with it piercing the flesh deeply. That would injure Y/n enough to teach her a lesson.

Yet Y/n pulled the fork from her shoulder and threw it aside shocking the girl as Y/n grabbed her by the front of her shirt and dragged her to a table, kicking her knees in and pushing her head to the table flat.

"Steve." Y/n spoke looking up at him, he was right there, "Top pocket of my bag, a little white box."

He looked at her in shock, "Steve!"

"yeah! yeah!"

He did as ordered and quickly tossed her the box she used her teeth to open the box, the box was a little shaker box, filled with sharp pins they'd use on maps in class. The girl squirm as Y/n grabbed her by the face, opening her mouth forcefully.

"I don't mind losing a few of these," Y/n told shaking the box a sharp pin barely hanging on as the girl started to cry, "You know this hurts, yeah it hurts real bad. I know It's happened to me before,"

"P.Please!" The girl gargled, her mouth still forced open.

"I let you walk away if what!?" Y/n argued, "What did I promise!"

The girl looked at Steve, "I'm sorry."

"What?" Y/n asked shaking the box, "I can't hear you!"

"I'm sorry! Please!" She begged, "I won't do it again! Ever! Please!"

"Not loud enough!" Y/n argued.

"Y/n that's enough!" Steve argued Heather crying.

"I Said louder!" Y/n demanded shaking the box as a few fell from the edge.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please! Please!" She cried louder looking at Steve, Y/n catching the pins before they fell into the girl's mouth letting the girl fall onto the floor.

The whole cafeteria was cheering: the biggest bullies were completely destroyed, Billy grabbed your jacket, and Steve threw you your bag as you and Billy rushed out of there before the teachers came around.

Eddie basically being your hype man after you ran: "And Y/n Castligone wins by a not so shocking 50 points!"

That just causes more cheering.

And Billy drove you home

Luckily no one was home and you were able to take a shower while Billy sat in your room

Afterward, he helps in bandaging those stab marks from that fork

That's the first time he sees your back up so close.

He's seen plenty of girls naked before yeah, but your back is different

It's covered in old scars that had faded and blended in with your skin

He wants to ask about them so bad: but if what he thinks is true, he can't help you as much as he thinks, he's in the same situation

and he knows asking is a touchy subject

But Billy ends up staring anyways

"New York's hard on the body." Y/n responded finishing covering the fork stab wounds, "Thanks."

He's quiet as he watches Y/n put a bra on, back still to him, and then a shirt.

"You said you'd call me," Billy argued.

"Call you?" Y/n asked, "about what?"

"You know what!" He shouted, shocking Y/n, "I can't believe I actually fucking cared!"

"I don't even understand what your talking about!" Y/n argued back.

"So those scars just appear right!?"

Y/n looked at him like he was stupid, he had no idea what he was talking about: "You don't know what you're talking about." Y/n argued.

"Oh? I don't?" Billy argued, red in the face: He seemed to hurt more than anything, "fucking try me because I understand how it is to be beat for every small fucking detail out of place."

"What?" Y/n asked, this was news to her, and his anger dropped: she was genuinely confused, isn't this what they had slowly been hinting at each other this whole time?

"Hargrove."

He went to walk away but she grabbed his wrist, "Billy. Sit. please."

You had never come clean to anyone, about you and Frank's work, you swore him to secrecy, with a pinky swear and he thought you were fucking stupid

So you told him about it all: Your time in New York: everything to fighting with Frank against Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, to meeting the literal God of Thunder, from Daredevil to ghost rider, and ghost rider to bruce banner, you laid it all on the floor for him: you even told him about Pietro

You make him too vulnerable and he tells you about his dad: but also swears you to secrecy and to your demise, you promise, and he tells you everything and you actually listen which makes it that much easier for Billy to just throw it all out.

You guys just become that much closer, and he gets a well-deserved bear hug.

"Maybe I'll take you away to New York one day," Y/n spoke softly, holding Billy tight.

Yeah he'd like that.

A phone call interrupts the two of them, Y/n going to pick it up.

"God finally," Steve spoke on the other end, "You okay?"

Y/n smiled small, "I'm good yeah, nice shower and everything."

"Maybe best to lay low for the rest of the day," Steve spoke, " Everyones been keeping it to themselves, what happened at lunch. Think those girls got too scared to say anything."

"Well let's hope they don't bother anyone anymore," Y/n responded.

"Y...yeah..." Steve nervously released, "Say...Uh thanks, I don't think anyone really ever stuck up for me, ya know?- it's not like people call me names all that much-"

"It's fine," Y/n responded, "Let's just say I don't like bullies at all..."

Steve chuckled, "Yeah I can see that...but uh, you know, as a thanks...my dad has this dinner happening: with some people from work, did you wanna...I don't know come along?"

"A...party?"

"No, large dinner." Steve corrected quickly holding his breath on the other end.

"A party would have been a deal breaker," Y/n chuckled, "But uh I'm free, when is it?"

"Sunday starts at 5:30."

"Yeah, I'll run it by my dad then."

"Cool.Cool. I've gotta run."

"Mhm."

You bet he's screaming like a little girl, and Dustin's there too, he had to be there.

"It's a good day Henderson!!" Steve cheered, "Icecreams on me! Go get you, little shitheads!"

hey Dustin's not complaining at all

And you back to sitting with Billy till Frank comes home, and he sees you two playing the game of life.

"This is Bullshit!"Billy protested.

"What?" Y/n laughed.

"You took the kids and the fucking car! My game piece doesn't even stand up! by itself!"

A whistle steals her attention, "Hey dad." Y/n smiled looking over at him in the doorway, "Sorry I didn't call you, Hargrove me home."

"It's. Fine." Frank spoke, "we got dinner on Sunday, at five."

"Uh..." Y/n spoke, "With the Harringtons?"

"How'd you know?"

"I know their son..." Y/n spoke moving her pieces, "I need 500 Hargrove."

"For what!?"

"Child support."

"Bullshit."

Y/n looked back at Frank as Billy counted the fake money, "Is that all?" Y/n asked.

"Your friends sent you another box."

"What? really!?" Y/n asked with a smile getting up and disturbing the game: thank God was Billy's thought.

You could care about the game now and grabbed the box from its position by the door thanking Frank before going back into the room using her foot to close the door.

Since Billy knows about your past and the whole Punisher's daughter thing, you allow him to stay for the weird shit that's being sent to you

This one's weirder than the last one, and in the Letters, Matt even apologizes for the weird shit that's gonna be in the box

There are some photos, and you show Billy who's who: But don't reveal any identities, he sees that you're happy talking about them

"Family dinner must be fun." Billy joked.

Y/n laughed, "Yeah, Sunday dinner is really fun."

A small smile painted his face, messing with a small stone sent to her by Thor, it was from Asgard apparently and highly valuable.

"Just like this week's Sunday dinner." Billy teased, "I can see it now, City bird becomes Harrington."

Y/n rolled her eyes and laughed, "Oh please. Not gonna be a Harrington if I'm blowing this joint with a Hargrove after graduation now am I?"

He let out a chuckle, setting the stone back in its velvet bag.

"Throw a punch at Harrington for me?" Billy asked Y/n smiling.

"Just for you."

"Yeah?" Billy asked with a smile, his teeth grazing his bottom lip just the slightest.

"yeah."

And that was his cue to leave, he say his goodbye to you before leaving

Turns out he has to go to that stupid dinner too, so he could punch Harrington himself

and when he tells you, you laugh in his face, and now you're running from him

Apparently, Mr.Harrington had become friends with one of his security guards during the night shifts, and Frank was always doing Extra hours during night construction on a new building for the company

That's how this happened

You told Steve about it: wow small town

Like literally small town- It's Hawkins what did you expect

And Nancy was talking to you about it during a class you shared, Apparently, her dad was high up and worked under Mr.Harrington too, she was complaining about going to you

but then figured out your going

And says she has to take you shopping: she just has to, because she doesn't have something to wear and wanted to get to know you better now that "Steve wasn't dragging her everywhere."

She says she'll pick you up Saturday, but if you have to go you say you'll just have your dad drop you off downtown and she agrees

You are not excited to go shopping you know you're gonna be dragged into some girly store.

You ask Frank about it at Dinner and he almost laughs: you're asking him to drop you off to go DRESS shopping, not just shopping, DRESS shopping

"Oh you're serious," Frank spoke.

"Yeah..." Y/n spoke, "unfortunately"

because that's what you want he takes you

When the weekly calls come in even Kate's laughing at you, but you're being serious: "What? What happened to pants gang?" was her response

She was right: you can't break the pants pact "Wear red," matt called from the background.

"Wear purple," Kate called.

"Purples gross."

"Oh sure, because you can totally tell Matt."

You miss the old bickering with the group

but soon the call ends because peter's gotta go save the city

you miss getting those calls to go and help

but you can't let it get you down,

So when Saturday comes along and you're dragging yourself to downtown, nancy is already waiting for you on a street corner

She practically drags you through every store, and it's not like it's slow either, she goes through each one thoroughly with you

"Okay, so what are you going to wear?" Nancy asked, "Dress? Or skirt? Maybe something with a belt around the waist? I bet Pinestrip plaid would look great on you!"

"Can I be honest?" Y/n asked Nancy nodding.

"I was just gonna wear jeans and a shirt."

"oh."

"yeah..." "Steve's uh...Mother is pretty-"

"I mean I can get a dress. I don't-"

"No! No! you should be comfortable, maybe we can go look at the business casual pants? You can still get pinstripe plaid if you want!"

"Yeah, that sounds good."

So maybe Nancy Wheeler wasn't as big of an ass as you had first thought

Though through the whole day you were downtown you had picked out just a pair of fitted pants that were black and flared at the bottom slightly, and a sleeveless turtle neck from the thrift store, Nancy still was having trouble finding the perfect shoes

"I just bought loafers from the thrift store. See there pretty good shape." Y/n defended.

"I can't wear loafers!"

"Okay. Let's calm down." Y/n spoke, "What color are you looking for."

Somehow you manage to calm Nancy down and find some damn heels for her.

She drives you home after getting some ice cream for on the way home.

"So you and Hargrove?" Nancy asked.

"Me and Billy? What about it?" Y/n questioned, as Nancy looked over at her.

"Come on," Nancy spoke.

"What?" Y/n asked again.

"Nothing, never mind." Nancy spoke, "You're both just close then?"

Y/n nodded, "Must be a city kid thing." "Yeah..."

Nancy wasn't convinced, but you were

She dropped you off and waved goodbye as she watched you go inside before pulling off.

"What you buy a whole damn store and work in it?" Frank ask, he was making dinner as she walked in.

"I bought three things."

"After," He looked at the clock, "What? seven hours?"

"Nancy couldn't find heels," Y/n responded.

"Now were the heels for you? or her?" Frank poked at her.

"I stuck to the guns, and got pants, even bought a pair of loafers."

Frank chuckled eating a slice of the vegetable he was cutting.

"Thatta girl," He praised and went back to cooking.

Y/n smiled and went to put her stuff down.

She'd help with Dinner after washing her hands, and then they'd eat together, bs-ing about the week

The main topic was tomorrow's dinner, they laughed at each other: neither were "people" people, they had their close-knit group and that'd be all, but they knew that: and it was yet another thing they had in common

Somewhere during dinner, a deck of Uno cards found its way between them during dinner, they played late into the night there half eaten food getting cold as + four cards continued to be stacked until 16 cards were drawn on Y/n's end.

That was straight of slaughter.

You went to bed after Frank's glorious win

You thought you'd be able to sleep in on a Sunday, but someone was knocking on your window at the crack of dawn.

"Nanc?" Y/n asked, "What the hell are you doin' here?"

"Help me in." She spoke Y/n sighing and taking Nancy's bag from her tossing it on the bed, then pulling Nancy herself inside the room.

"I was thinking I could help you get-"

It was too late, Y/n had already laid herself back in bed, "Gimmie another three hours."

"What? No- also your room looks just like my brothers. A mess."

Y/n shrugged, "that's fine by me."

"Come get up I wanna help you get ready!"

Y/n sighed as she sat up, "Go at it, Nancy-"

"Well, I'm not giving you a shower! come on get up!"

So Nancy drags you to get up and into the shower, she also tells you to wash your hair so she can help you do that too

"What's that."

"Makeup."

"What?"

"Don't worry, I'm not putting glitter on your face," Nancy spoke, "or pink."

"Oh."

She sticks true to her word and keeps it simple, some chapstick: which you thought was lipstick, and some black eyeshadow blended out

She had you get dressed afterward, you but you look "too plain" in her words, you're sleeveless turtle necks black and so are your pants, your loafers black as well.

"You look like you're going to a funeral." Nancy spoke, "Do you have a leather jacket? Or maybe a different colored turtle neck?"

"I have a dark purple turtle neck,"

"Yeah put that on!"

Y/n did as told, careful to watch her face as she changed it out for a purple long sleeve turtle neck.

"That's better." Nancy spoke, and went into her bag, "i brought this from home, it's originally a belt but I think it'd work as a chain too."

Nancy clipped both sides to the belt loops, leaving one loop in between.

"There!" she smiled, showing Y/n her tiny pocket Mirror, "All ready for dinner! Do you mind if I do my make-up here? I'd love to-"

"Y/n?" Frank knocked on the door

"Go," Y/n whispered. "One-minute dad!"

"What?"

"Go out the window." Y/n demanded, "Hurry."

Nancy quickly slid her bag under the bed and Y/n helped her out the window and closed it.

Y/n hurried to the door, opening it, "yeah?"

"You're up?" he spoke, but was more of questioning it, Y/n could easily sleep in till 2pm if she desired.

"Yeah," Y/n responded.

Y/n reached his hand out and she closed her eye as he wiped beside her eyelid.

"Is that makeup?" He asked looking at the black smudge on his finger.

"Yeah. is that okay?" Y/n questioned.

"yeah, yeah," Frank spoke, wiping his hand on his black pants, "You look..."

Y/n raised an eyebrow, "Bad I presume?"

"No. No," he spoke, unable to find the right word.

A smile fell onto Y/n's lips: "if it's leaving you this speechless, I can proudly say I had a good dad to raise me."

He laughed kissing her forehead, "Don't take another three hours."

"Copy that."

Y/n closed her door with a smile, and walked back to the window to see Nancy waiting, "Did you park out on the street?"

"Yeah. I can't drive on that road," she spoke.

"You can come back in."

Nancy and you spend the next hours talking as she does her makeup and she puts a product in your hair as well as her own.

And she then climbed back out your window to go get dressed at her house, just in time too because Frank knocks

"You're cuttin' it, close kid. we gotta go"

"Me? I'm waiting for you old man."

He can only laugh, "yeah well we're gonna make it just on time if you'd walk a little faster."

""Oh? I'm too slow for the old man?"

You both left, and Frank had you carry a pie he made, since when did he bake?

"You never make me a pie." Y/n protested.

"You never ask." He spoke up.

"Since when did you learn how to bake."

"I'm Italian, It's a natural skill," Frank spoke with a laugh.

"You're Italian?" Y/n asked.

"Do you ever listen to anything I ever tell you, kid?"

Y/n shrugged, "I just always thought you were 100 percent dumb ass."

He looked over at her giving her a "really?" look as she laughed, he chuckling along with her shaking his head at her, "Watch it in front of these guys."

"You got it."

Dinner would be easy: you just wouldn't talk: this would be easy

You guys got there, and Mrs.Harrington opened the door, welcoming them both in.

"And you must be Mr.Castilgone?"

"Frank is fine Ma'm."

This was gonna be annoying in full honesty, she didn't even acknowledge you besides an up and down glance and a face of what looked like disgust.

the house was uh, "modern" basic with no charm, and no warmth.

"Steve come down we have guests come and greet them!"

Steve was quick to fly down the stairs, stopping mid-way, spotting y/n at the bottom of the steps.

"hey Harrington..." Y/n smiled waving to him shortly.

"My son has a name-" This was already going bad.

"Mom it's fine." Steve stopped her, walking himself down the rest of the steps, "Hey. You...Uh. You look great!"

"Thanks." Y/n smiled, "Not too bad yourself."

He smiled, "Uh, Harrington- Steve, Steve this is my dad, Frank. Dad, Steve."

Steve thought you were scary at first glance, but Frank? Damn. DAMN, he was terrified to just shake his hand; yet did it anyways, he saw where you got your strength from

Luckily Mr.Harrington breaks up the awkwardness happy to see Frank and to finally meet you: he surprisingly was a sweet man who would have preferred you dress "traditionally", but that wasn't his comment to make, and kept it to himself

You were taken into a living room while Mrs. Harrington went back to making food in the kitchen

Do you think it was a bit of a shock you didn't go to the kitchen with Mrs. Harrington? No. Did Mrs. and Mr. Harrington? Yes: Mr.Harrington kept his opinion to himself, but Mrs.Harrington seemed to be angrier than an old man catching kids stealing from his lemon tree, Y/n could feel the anger: and cursed Matt for training in improving her senses

"I. Uh. Got some new music from..the uh. store." Steve spoke nervously, trying to make small talk with her as they sat on the couch alone, Frank and his dad talking about work as Steve's dad poured them two whiskies.

"Nice," Y/n spoke looking around, so...bland...

"You look really pretty." Steve spilled out, his palms sweaty.

Y/n nodded, "Thanks. Wish I could say you look good, but you've cleaned up better for school."

"Ouch." He laughed, Y/n laughing with him, "Maybe I take that compliment back."

Y/n smiled, "You're very much welcome too."

Steve laughed, his fingers running over his palm as he looked at his hand, "I don't think I can, it'd be-"

The doorbell rang and Steve mentally gut punched himself, his mom answering it as the hall was filled with happy hellos.

In came, the one the only Hargrove-Mayfield family.

Both Steve and Y/n stood up. Steve found it odd the way Billy eyed at Y/n, also in a "watch it" tone as Y/n went for the juggler. Billy's Father, Neil Hargrove.

"Hi, Mr.Hargove!" Y/n smiled his hand extending as Y/n grasped it: it was a firm handshake, but Y/n squeezed, hard. "I'm Y/n, Y/n Castilgone, Frank's daughter, I know Billy from school, he's really sweet, drives me home all the time."

"My Billy? No." Neil laughed.

Y/n gave a puzzling look, "oh but yes Mr.Hargrove, he always makes sure I'm very safe, it's dangerous out there for a lady like me. Isn't it?"

She was buttering Billy up, "In New York, I am always worried about the danger, he keeps me very safe. You'd always have to watch your six everywhere you go."

Steve was confused, she was talking...weird focusing on her pronunciation of certain words (guys, find the secret threat within the dialogue lines to Mr.Hargrove and I'll give you a cupcake or something.).

"Nice to know he's finally got some sense in that head of his," Neil spoke with a smile, Y/n releasing his now red hand.

With the end of that Y/n met the rest of the Family Susan was sweet. And Max seems to like you

After all you were breaking conformity as she too had been forced to wear a stupid dress

Billy stood between you and Steve and leaned over to speak to you, he seemed mad, but when you leaned back to whisper in his ears his shoulders seemed to fall a bit like you had helped him relax

Steve feeling left out was glad the Wheelers showed up when they did.

You know like the sandlot where the kids have a crush on an older teen? Thats Mike seeing you

Mrs.Wheeler? Rather die than smile at you, Mr.Wheeler atleast said Hi

And Holly, Mike nor Nancy was allowed no where near you

Which...is odd.

Oh but of course. OF COURSE Mrs.Wheeler Oogles Billy and AND you're fathed

Two men you have that she cant have haha

In your face bitch

You're the only girl standing there in the group of men all the others had gone to the kitchen to help

Soon though dinner's done. And everyone sits down.

Mrs.Wheeler litterally stole the seat next to your dad.

So you were on the other side of the table, Across from Mrs.Wheeler between Steve and Billy at the end.

With Holly staring at you intensely. Werid.

"Ms.Castiglione." Mrs.Harrington spoke up from down the table, "You will say grace for us? You've been so quiet."

Grace? Uh okay. Okay what would Matt do?

"Um. Sure."

Y/n glanced between Steve and Billy they had no idea how to help her, everyone grabbing hands and looking down.

"What do I do!?" Y/n mouthed to Frank silently, he was just as loss, he knew Mr.Hargove knew Frank didn't exactly raise the you with religion set in place.

Plus it was gross seeing Mrs.Wheeler seem so turned on by Frank's hand simple holding hers. EW

"Uh...Hi God...jesus...who ever's up there. Just wanna say thank you for the good food and all. Wish you were here? Bet you enjoy it....Oh and P.S. I have a friend named Matt in New York. Tell him I said Hi. Keep not only New York safe, but Hawkins too. Thanks."

Mrs.Harrington was LIVID and you could feel Neil glaring daggers at you, but before she said anything Mr.Harrington spoke up with a loud Amen, the others following behind him.

"Was that alright?" Y/n whispered to the two boys.

"You want the truth?" Steve asked under his breath.

"Well yeah."

"Absolute shit." Billy laid out quietly, "You're rep with the adults. Fucked."

"I can fix it." Y/n defended quietly.

"Good luck." Steve spoke.

Luckily Mike and Max were the ones able to fish you out of your akward hole.

"So you're from New York?" Mike asked.

"Micheal." His mother scolded

Y/n nodded, "Born and raised."

Mike didn't listen: "Do you know any superheros?"

"Superheros? Mhm a few." Y/n spoke.

"Wait. Seriously?" Max spoke up, "Who?"

"Who's your favorite?"

"Black Widow!"

"Black Widow?" Mike Argued, "Thor's a god. He's the best."

"She didn't ask for the best, she asked for our favorite."

Y/n smiled, "I know both of them."

"Really?" The two kids asked happily.

"Did you fight with them? Are you a side kick?" Mike asked.

"Micheal. Be quiet." Mrs.Wheeler scolded, Mike growing quiet.

Y/n looked at Max, "Natasha and I know each other well."

"Are you a widow too?'

Y/n shook her head, "No. Im not. But. I will say she stays in contact with me."

"What about Thor?" Max asked, she knew Mike wanted to hear it, Y/n leaned in closer and so did Max.

"I helped him in a grocery store. Don't tell him. It brusies his pride. Unlike thor though, Deadpool? You know him?"

The two nodded, "He'll go out straight stand on a table if he has to and scream it. He's very theratical."

She laughed and Mike tried to contain his laughter.

"And is this why you don't know how to say Grace?" Mrs.Harrington spoke up.

"Mom." Steve scolded.

"Yes Ma'm. It's hard to study such Hero's without a fully opened Mind. Most come from very harsh backgrounds. Its a completely clean slate that you have to study them from." Y/n smiled.

Okay. That seemed to settle waters with Neil but not with either of the mothers,

Dinner was alright: Mrs.Harrington wasnt a great cook it was so bland considering the food you've tasted from New York.

Dinner kinda goes smoothly from there, talking amongst themselves and Frank kept looking at you like he felt bad but you would only roll your eyes drinking from your glass ,and spin your hidden finger signally insanity

The first time you did it he almost spits up his drink in laughter but managed to contain it.

"Mommy," Holly spoke up, she had still been staring at Y/n this whole time.

"Yes Holly?"

"That's the pretty girl from the store. Remember."

You froze, almost two months ago, two months since they've been in Hawkins, Holly had remembered you...if she had said that....that means it was Mrs.Wheeler who had called you basically ugly.

It's just one after another that punches keep being thrown

"If I may." Y/n spoke up, "Mrs. Harrington."

Mrs. Harrington looked up from her food, "what?"

"I'd be so appreciative if I could use your bathroom." Y/n responded, "Please Ma'm."

"Upstairs down the hall on your right."

And you leave.

Franks just about had it with this shit. He tried, You both tried. Very hard to seem like...perfect little people

But you're just not. You're not and It weighs on both of you

But there borderline bullying you now with their side glances of disappointment and scoffs as you talk about something you're so genuinely interested in

But in a way your different he's so use to it- So used to taking the shit, and he's always taught you You don't put up with it.

Before he gets to the punch Steve gets it out of all people hearing an under-the-breath comment about you being a dyke

"Alright. I'm done." Steve spoke up, pushing his plate forward.

"Steve have some Manners." His mom ordered.

"You know what? How. How am I going to have manners when you clearly don't have any?" Steve argued, "You've done nothing. Nothing but attack. You know that?"

"What are you talking about-"

"Mom! Be serious!" Steve argued, "Y/n's done nothing to hurt you. She's been nice and sweet this entire time! She brought a damn pie!"

"Watch your mouth when talking to your mother Steve." His father demanded.

"No swearing fine!" Steve agreed, just to go back at his mother: "What did she do?"

"Steve I-"

"What did she do?" Steve asked again.

"She didn't do anything."

"So what I'm getting at is that. Because she wears what she's comfortable in. She's a dyke?" Steve argued, "It's okay to call her dyke because she's being herself."

"It is not my fault that, that girl needs a lobotomy-"

"Alright." Frank spoke standing up grabbing his Jacket.

"Frank!" Mr.Harrington called, "Let's sit down. Let's all calm down."

"You want me to calm down?" Frank asked, "I've put up with this bullshit all through this dinner, now I've taken bigger shits than this in the damn war. I've taught my little girl no one talks to her this way, not behind her back not to her face. And that makes me a pretty bad father for making her sit through this shit. Doesn't it?"

"Frank-"

"Now if I hear you little wife talkin' about my girl again. I don't care if it's in praise or in a slur. If my little girl's name ever comes out of your wife's mouth, it bein' a rumor she talked or not. I will be putting your wife in the hospital." Frank threatened, "Do you understand?"

"Frank I understand you're angry-"

"I said DO YOU UNDERSTAND!" Frank shouted, classic army shouting, ordering you inline, it caused the whole table to straighten their posture in fear.

"Yes sir." Mr.Harrington spoke quietly.

Frank nodded, looking back and seeing Steve looking at him, "You got a good kid Harrington." Frank complimented before walking out of the dining room.

Y/n was coming down the steps, "We're leaving."

Y/n only nodded and followed Frank out the door. It slammed behind them on the way out causing them all to flinch.

"God..." Steve spoke under his breath, "God fucking damn it!"

He hit the table pushing himself out of his seat leaving the dinning room.

Previous Part - Next Part

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[pedrito-friskito]

matt murdock w a diabetic!fem reader? i think he would be so wholesome 😭

ok full disclosure: this was a challenge but I was determined to rise to it! (if there are any inaccuracies, I apologize in advance, pls point them out so I can fix them but I did do my best, did some research, and had help from the smartest cookie @saintmurd0ck 💗)

I hope you enjoy nonnie 💕

diabetic hcs - matt murdock x fem!reader

✨kay’s 300 follower celebration✨

I think he would be the MOST wholesome

like no matter what, matt wants to take care of you. he wants you happy and safe (and sexually satisfied lol) but your wellbeing and health is his top priority

you’re almost hesitant, at first, to tell him, but he already knows. “I can hear your heartbeat, sweetheart, and I know when your sugar gets low.”

“you do?”

he just nods, reaching out to take your face in his hands, pressing a sweet kiss to your jaw. “mmhm. I can smell it.”

it’s oddly comforting, and as your relationship progresses, he just gets more and more attentive

his kitchen is always stocked with your favourite snacks, and he’s sure to have extra juice on hand just in case. before you move in, he keeps a few spares of your medications in his bathroom, and when you do move in with him, he’s sure to keep a shelf clear above the sink

he even prints off the labels in braille, so if he ever needed to find one for you in a pinch, he can do so easily

you also make a switch to a digital monitor that not only shows the number, but speaks it aloud. you don’t miss the way matt’s ears perk up when the robotic voice rattles off the number, and no matter where he is in the apartment, he nods, often calling out “heard that!” if he’s in the other room

matt definitely cooks meals with you, paying attention to what you like and what foods are good to bring your sugar up or let it sink lower. he asks all kinds of questions, learns where you like to keep your snacks and is always more than willing to get out of bed to get you something if you feel it dropping in the night (or if he notices)

in public, he’s a little more subtle about it, but still just as attentive. if he can tell your sugar’s sinking a bit, he’ll pull one of your favourite sweets out of his jacket pocket, slipping it into your hand with a kiss to your cheek and a whispered, “here, baby.”

whenever a new restaurant pops onto your radar, the moment you voice your want to check it out, matt is up for the task. he finds reviews, calls the kitchen directly to talk to the chefs, just to make sure it’ll be all right for you, and that there’s something on the menu you’ll like and be able to enjoy safely

trying to keep active is already part of your lifestyle, and matt slides into step beside you with ease. long walks around central park are a staple, and when he lets you in on his secret, the mask he dons each night, he takes you to fogwell’s and you spar a bit in the ring

he always lets you win

and if there’s anything matt knows, it’s that the good comes with the bad. sure, he can smell the sugar in your blood, can hear the pace of your heart, can feel the warmth of your skin, but there’s more. he can hear the crack in your voice when you have a hard day, when the weight of it all just feels like a bit too much to handle 

he takes those days as they come, knows them like the back of his hand. and he knows you. he’ll call in to the office if you need it, telling foggy he needs a day to take care of his girl, and will spend the whole day in the apartment with you. whatever you want. he’ll make your favourite foods, lounge on the couch or in bed with you, take a long hot shower that helps the storm cloud looming over your head dissipate into nothing

and if his hands start to wander a bit, well, you’re none the wiser

you’re thankful — it’s hard not to be — for his attention, for his love, and matt takes it all in kind, peppering your face with kisses and always pulling you into his arms. “it’s all part of our life, sweetheart, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

—————

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[bubble-tea-bunny]

love for sale

[bruce wayne x reader]

author’s note: sorry for the recent absence. i’m in my last couple weeks of the quarter and i’ve been focusing on finishing hw+studying for finals. matt murdock is up next i think but don’t hold me to that lol. also hope y’all enjoy this, please excuse any typos, i’m really tired haha. 

inspired by this song: x

word count: 1,709

Maybe Bruce should’ve expected things would be different from here on out when, during another textbook fundraising gala, he holds his flute up to eye-level to survey the bubbly liquid inside and spots you through it—a fairy in a black velvet dress and encased in gold champagne. And he thinks maybe it’s just a vision, maybe he’s had one too many of these drinks and this is a signal for him to stop for the evening, but then he lowers the glass and you’re still there, across the room, laughing at a (presumably) amusing quip he can’t hear, Cheshire grin wide and almost blinding, to the point that he’s sure if he stares any longer he’ll have fuzzy spots in his vision. He says presumably because maybe the remark hadn’t actually been funny at all and you’re only laughing out of courtesy. Bruce would understand if that were the case. He’s no stranger to these events, and the attendees could be a bit dry.

Just as his throat seems to be when your gaze finds him, eyes shooting straight to him as if you could tell he’d been watching you this entire time. He’s not sure if he’s imagining the way you’re looking, as if asking to be saved, to be whisked away from your current conversation which apparently you deem less than interesting. It makes him smile a bit, and he tells himself that whether or not it had just been his imagination is irrelevant, because he would’ve approached you anyway.

He’s Moses parting the Red Sea as he strides over, each step purposeful, his sights trained on you. People get out of his way once they see how focused he is on his destination and he never once has to weave around someone—his path towards you is a straight line. When he introduces himself and successfully pulls you away from the group of people you’d been roped into conversing with, your smile is soft and grateful. And he can’t help but mirror the expression as the two of you talk at the bar, standing a little too close for casual conversation but he has had a few glasses of champagne already (excluding the one he has in his hand) and maybe you have too, for the alcohol at these events is always as fantastic as it is expensive, and they taste even better when the bar is open and you’re not having to pay by the bottle or by the tumbler or what have you. So maybe the both of you can owe this close talking to being a little tipsy. But there are no complaints to be had because from this distance, Bruce can see the curl of your lashes and he can smell the flowery perfume you wear and he swears he’s getting drunker the more of you he takes in.

When you see someone wave you over, you sigh and smile apologetically. You explain you should probably go say hello and go through all the niceties with them—the how-are-you’s, the what-have-you-been-up-to’s, and so on and so forth. But then you tell him you wouldn’t mind him coming to distract you again because you consider him the best company here. He thinks the same of you but he doesn’t actually voice that, only says with a quiet chuckle that he’ll be sure to come and save the day as soon as you give him the signal.

“My hero,” you state with a lopsided, lipsticked smile, and then you make your leave, the crowd parting similarly for you. There’s a small smile on Bruce’s face he doesn’t fully realize is still there as he watches you. He’s eyeing the expanse of your back left exposed by the daring dip of your dress and he’s looking for the scars of fairy wings no longer there. He doesn’t find any, and maybe that should’ve been obvious, but he can’t help but wonder where you might store them if you had them.

He has no doubt that come the end of the evening, the quiet murmurs floating through the room are about the both of you. Bruce Wayne is the most coveted bachelor in Gotham, and you’re a fresh face whom he seems absolutely smitten with (and he is, but he won’t admit that if anyone asked). It is true that that no one’s really heard of you, but you seem to be making your mark on the scene, and in a way that catches everyone’s attention, whether or not you actually notice. But Bruce is willing to bet you don’t care anyway. When you’re looking at him and he can practically see his reflection in your eyes, he knows for sure your attention is solely on him. And he’s sinking into those bottomless pools before he realizes he even fell off the edge in the first place.

It’s not long before the paparazzi snags cover-worthy photos of you and him and your faces are plastered on the front of magazines, big and bold headlines questioning who you were, who you were to him, if you were “the one” because sure, it’s no secret Bruce has been in quite a few relationships that never really went anywhere. People speculate if it’s commitment issues, and he only knows this because once he’d actually bothered to pick up one of those tabloids off a shelf in the store and flipped to whatever page the article was on. But he doesn’t consider the problem to be commitment issues—far from it. He just hasn’t found that person who really makes him feel whole the way they talk about in romance novels, the person who makes his heart beat so fast he thinks it’ll burst out from his chest.

Alfred always tells him to look for someone who can successfully pull him away from his work in the Bat Cave and Bruce always just laughs and tells him okay. So far no one’s been able to do that. He’s still losing sleep training and tinkering with new gadgets. And it’s not like Alfred is rushing him or anything, at least not verbally, but it’s hard to miss the concerned look in his eyes when Bruce emerges with darker circles than he’d gone to the Bat Cave with earlier in the day, only to plop into a bed for a few hours until he needs to be up for his day-job at Wayne Enterprises.

It felt a lot like window shopping. He’s been peering through glass at all the types of love for sale, but nothing had ever clicked. And pretty soon he’s stopped looking so intently, the most he gives the display now are passing glances as he walks by. Because maybe if he stops searching, he’ll find the right kind of love he’s looking for, whatever it might be (he’s not even sure either). That’s how it works right? But maybe it’s just an excuse to put it on the back-burner, or give up entirely.

However, he’s growing more sure with each day that you are “the one,” as all those tabloids have put it. Because when he looks at you, his heart beats a little harder, and he’s not thinking of the work he’s left on hold in the Bat Cave. He’s only thinking about you, about your warm smile and bright eyes and you’re like the moon on the darkest night of the year, showing him the right way. To where? The horizon, he guesses. So he can stand there and meet you.

Wayne Manor becomes home to you too, and the place seems livelier now that you float through it. Bruce has never gotten to this stage of a relationship. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Alfred smirking the tiniest bit, and he sighs and asks What? even though he knows the answer already. And his butler and closest friend merely shrugs and says Oh, nothing but it’s not actually nothing, he’s just saying that because what he’s thinking doesn’t need to be voiced. You’re looking to be the end of a long, winding road for Bruce Wayne, and that’s not something to be taken lightly.

Bruce isn’t sure if you actually realize the impact you have on him. He asks you if you do one evening when you come back from viewing a play at the theater and you’re wearing his suit jacket because your dress, while beautiful, is awful at keeping out the chill of night. You smile softly and gently set a hand on his face, your other hand clutching at the collar of the jacket to keep it around your shoulders. You don’t say anything immediately, just study him, and Bruce has a hard time believing someone could look at him with so much love. He didn’t know anyone had that much love to give in the first place, and you’re giving it so freely. All to him. You have to tiptoe to be able to kiss him, and it’s as soft as your smile, and he thinks you wouldn’t even need to answer him out loud. You seem to know perfectly well how much you mean to him.

But when you pull away and his eyes are a little hazy and you grin at the sight of them, you tell him you think the same thing every day, if he realizes how much he means to you, because you can’t put into words what he means to you, other than that he means everything. And that’s hardly concise but Bruce understands it just fine. Both of you are much better at showing than telling.

He stays right where he is as you start to ascend the staircase, still holding his suit jacket close to your body, and as he studies you, smiling absentmindedly with his hands tucked into his pants pockets, he wonders where you could’ve been hiding all this time, you and your wings, and if you’ve left your wings in whatever place that might’ve been. He supposes it is accurate that the right things come when you’re not looking. Window shopping had, therefore, been entirely pointless. True love’s not for sale to begin with.

[canaryatlaw]

okay. another long and mostly good day. The vast majority of it was good but I got slightly peeved at my family and of course particularly at my asshole (older) brother, but whatever. Jess’ alarm went off at 8, and we started getting dressed. I was doing my Ramona Flowers cosplay today, and I was pretty sure I was going to melt because the outfit was legit a hoodie and then another jacket over that, but I did my best to find ones that were described as lightweight. I was doing normal make up today so I ddi that and then we headed out. My house perpetually never has breakfast food, so we stopped at McDonalds for food and coffee, and then we were on our way. The ride there and back went pretty smoothly both days, nothing really crazy that would be an issue. We got there right around 10 when it opened, and there was quite a line to get past security and inside, so we had to wait outside and I was doing my best not to totally overheat lol. I set the metal detector off at the juvenile courthouse so many times that now whenever I walk through one and don’t set it off, it feels like an accomplishment honestly 😂 but we got in, Brandon wasn’t out yet so we browsed for a while mostly looking at funko pops, Jess wanted the ATOM of course and I was casually looking for Ramona since I know they have one and that would be cool to have. I’m also going to buy the Elektra from Daredevil pop at some point, just haven’t gotten around to it yet (and my stack of dark haired women that can kick your ass funko pops is getting quite tall lately). We also went back to the t-shirt place from yesterday and browsed for a bit, I resisted the temptation to buy more wonder woman shirts, partially because they were just in unisex sizes that I don’t like how they fit me. But I did get the “Nelson and Murdock: attorneys at law” shirt I wanted so that made me happy. It reminds me of my first year legal writing class which is all graded anonymously through your student ID number so our prof said we could make up a name to actually sign it with, and I ended up putting “Sara Lance, Assassins at Law” as opposed to attorneys at law and I felt very clever lol. I’m pretty sure I put the address as like 123 Comingforyou drive too. Good times. So then we made our way back to Brandon’s table as he had arrived, so we were good and waited in line, then talked to him of course, he noticed and complimented my cosplay immediately, a lot of people actually told me they liked it which I was pleased to hear because she has a lot of different outfits in the movie and it’s not like you’re gonna memorize every one, but I’m sure the wig with the rather distinctive larger pieces in the front helped. So we chatted with him and took some selfies, which thankfully look better than the ones from yesterday that were god awful. I told him I wanted to do a fighting photo op pose, so we were prepared for that. The photo op wasn’t till 1:30 though and we didn't have much else to be, and Brandon was kinda swamped so we couldn’t really just chill with him. So we walked around a bit more then ended up sitting in front of their main panel stage, and happened to watch the kids costume contest, which was sooooooo adorable, so many precious children. the one who takes the kid though was definitely this little boy who dressed as a transformer, with like, incredible detail and care, but the kicker is when he lays down HE CAN ACTUALLY TRANSFORM INTO A TRUCK and if that’s not the coolest idea ever I don’t know what is. So, unsurprisingly, he won, got some sort of star wars land speeder things, idk. That started at 12 and we wanted to be at the photo op at like 1 because they tended to start early. Brandon wasn’t at his table, so we talked to his handlers for a bit, who are both super nice and like, actual friends with Jess now lol, so we did that before going to the photo op, and unsurprisingly they started like 20 minutes before the scheduled time. We were sent to wait behind the photo set up and I’m standing there waiting and this guy in a fucking spider-man costume just like, walks past me and places himself on line and I really, really wanted to be like “hey asswipe, do you actually know how not to be a fucking moron??” but the small amount of common sense I do have decided that it wasn’t worth it so I just glared at him periodically. When I got into the photo op we kind of figured out our pose and then took the photo, and it came out super good, I’ll grab it and post it on here in a minute (well, when I’m done here). Once we had the photo we went back over to the table and shamelessly cut the line (wow I’m a hypocrite but like we have street cred here we can do that) to show Brandon the photo op, and he of course signed it without me even asking, and wrote a very funny message about the two characters, so that made me happy. Having done the rounds a lot and not really having much else to do we decided to say goodbye and head out, Brandon was leaving at 3 anyway so he could get back to Courtney and their son for Father’s Day (awwwwww). Saying goodbye is always hard and like, it’s hard to say when we might see him again since not a whole lot of stuff has been announced so far. I definitely did miss Courtney being there too. But anyway, we headed out and decided we needed some lunch, so I decided Jess needed to try authentic New York pizza (on the hierarchy of NY foods non-Yankees need to try while here is like 1) bagels 2) pizza 3) either carvel or friendly’s, 4) kosher delis 5) diners, and 6) normal delis). so I just googled mapped the nearest pizzeria and went there, because I know we can get fab pizza at any place there, and it was very fab! I love getting pizza whenever I’m here, so it was really a must. Jess very much enjoyed hers, even if she continues to talk about how Chicago deep dish is better, but I’m quite aware that’s more to antagonize me than an actual opinion at this point 😂 when we were walking out she was yelling like “DEEP DISH IS BETTER!!!” and I was like “careful, you can get shot for saying stuff like that here” and this random guy who was walking away from his car was like “I’ll get the gun” and we both basically died laughing. Drive home was fine, hit a bit of traffic but nothing bad. When we were right about to pass a Carvel I had the bright idea to ask if Jess wanted ice cream (because I always want ice cream, of course) and she said heck yeah so we pulled into the place. I got my favorite vanilla soft serve with chocolate crunches on the outside and in a waffle cone, Jess ended up order a combination of their three different types of sherbet that they made especially for her 😂 it was also funny because we were chatting a little with this lady standing next to us, whom we discovered was also from Chicago and was here visiting, lol. so that was good. Carvel doesn’t have a seating area or anything, so we just went back to the car to eat them, and damn, they tasted so good, but it took sooo long to finish them (and that was the “small” version), When we did finish I drove the rest of the way home, things were a bit busy with everyone prepping for father’s day dinner, one of our family friends was over and in charge of the steaks, so there was all that. We basically just chilled in my room until we got called for dinner, which was being held outside at the table on the patio, which is always nice. Dinner was pretty good, things were pretty solid, We broke before dessert and then rejoined a bit later, and while dessert was very lovely my asshole older brother started making asshole comments and like....objectively it was nothing, I know it was nothing, but it just makes me so damn mad when he says does things like laughing at me and then saying “oh please, Rachel would be a terrible lawyer for (specific area of law” and I really just wanted to get up and punch him and like.....I hate this so much because I so want to be at a point where stupid little things like that don’t get under my skin, but honestly the stupidest little jerk comments just trigger all these emotions in me because this, and much, much worse, happened for so many years, and when he does it now it’s like I’m right back there, living a life I desperately wanted to get out of any way possible- any way at all. Of course it only got worse from there, because we were talking about job shit and my parents were pulling more of this “well you’re just going to come to New York even though you’ve told us like 12 times on this trip that you want to stay in Illinois” and just like the fact that they really don’t seem to give a damn about how I feel about major decisions in my life and that’s really infuriating. And then of course the friend of my father’s came up in conversation and it was the guy who posted the creepy comment about “smiling” on my facebook photo and I said so, and then of course nobody took me serious at all, they’re all laughing and making fun of me for even being creeped out about this and it was surely not what he intended, and I mean, of course I held back that like 10 years ago when I was 16 he messaged me late at night a few times and asked me creepy invasive questions, so one damn comment of “smile” (which is bad enough tbh) meant a whole lot more than that. So I was kinda pissed over them still refusing to take anything I feel into account, they just laugh every time I get upset and mad and I really just want to fucking punch them and be told my feelings are valid for once in my fucking life, for fucking ONCE for one of them to be sorry for something they did to me, fucking tortured me, and the word “sorry” never came to their lips about it, and they think they never did anything wrong, and if I tried to bring it up I would only be mocked and shit on more, and I’m just like I’m done with this. However, within and in between all of this happening, my dad decided the best way to get me to stay in New York would be for them to basically adopt Jess (and I mean, he ain’t wrong) and move us both out here, like he's legit getting in contact with people who might know of teaching jobs because my dad is fucking wild okay. And there is currently at least one semi-viable lawyer position open on LI right now so I mean I’ll see what happens there. My parents seem to be of the opinion that I should stay in NY even if I don't have a job lined up because I’ll get one eventually but like, that’s the exact same situation as Chicago, except I have way more contacts there and dad’s contacts have been totally unsuccessful up to this point, Sigh. This is long, Guess I had a lot to say. After dessert we pretty much retreated to my room and spent the rest of the night in here, with my dad coming in two times setting up information about jobs for both of us, and like, I told Jess before we got here my parents were probably pay her rent if I asked them too, and they definitely proved that this weekend. We didn’t really do anything else before getting ready for bed, so that’s about it. I am super super tired and we fly out early tomorrow morning (not like 6 am thankfully, but 8:30 flight still means I have to get up at six, so I am officially ending this post here so I can actually shut my eyes before the do some involuntarily. Goodnight babes. Stay gorgeous,

[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.