lena-honey-writes

[lena-honey-writes]

thank you for including my fic!!! <3333

Best Matt Murdock Fics on Tumblr

Part one • Part two

Series/Masterlist

Falling for the devil - Series @bellaxgiornata

Courtforshort15 - masterlist @courtforshort15

Lingered Affection - Series @cellophaine

Alley Cat - Series @shiorimakibawrites

And then I met you @souliebird

Matt Being High @pastafossa

Devil's (Bad) Luck @ellephlox

Seeking Forgiveness - Series @bellaxgiornata

Coffee Shop Jitters - Series @courtforshort15

Fluff

Of Random Things that have Led us Here - Fluff @courtforshort15

Care Packages - Fluff @chvoswxtch

A Matter of Opinion - Fluff @courtforshort15

Bewitched, Body and Soul - Fluff @alrighty-matty

Half Truth - Fluff @alrighty-matty

Lie Detector - Fluff @ellephlox

Happy Valentines Day - Fluff

Wax Strips - Fluff @your-not-invisible-to-me

Familiar Senses - Fluff @leahsficemporium

Shampoo Bottle - Fluff @peterman-spideyparker

Honest Mistake - Fluff @farfromstrange

Then came you - Fluff @leossmoonn

A Devil's Safe Haven - Fluff @talesofesther

The Perfect Cheesecake - Fluff @lena-honey-writes

Absolutely not - Fluff @disgustingtoast

Teaming up With Foggy - Fluff @undiscovered-horizon

Takes Two to Tango - Fluff @alrighty-matty

Not so Far Away at All - Fluff @honeycombstrawberry

One More Time - Fluff @murdock-barnes

Lingering - Fluff @someplace-darker

Teddy Bear - Fluff @marvelandimagine

My Once in a Lifetime - Fluff @cellophaine

Shopping - Fluff @l0vergirlwrites

You Can't Fucking Cook - Fluff @tohokuu

Why are you naked? - Fluff @mattmurdocksscars

It's Really Yellow? - Fluff @pastafossa

Late Nights and Stitches - Fluff @barnesmurdock

Loving you is easy - Fluff @peterman-spideyparker

Under the Weather - Fluff @bellaxgiornata

An Eternity of Your Love - Fluff @mattmurdocksscars

Let me see you - Fluff @l0vergirlwrites

Fall asleep in my lap - Fluff @pastafossa

Lights out - Fluff @ellephlox

#i need to write more omg

[lena-honey-writes]

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!! that makes me so happy 😭💕

the perfect cheesecake

You’re normally a pretty good baker, but today, you’re having trouble with a cheesecake. Good thing Matt is a fantastic taste-tester.

(fluff, 700 words)

**i don't bake lol i just thought this was a cute idea

request guidelines

~~~~~~

One of the fun little surprises that came with dating Daredevil was finding out that he had really sensitive taste buds. Like, beyond anything else you’d ever seen. He could list all the individual layers of flavors, single out spices, explain what should’ve been taken out or added in. If you were anyone else, you probably would’ve taken offense to someone being so critical of your baking, but you love it, especially since it's Matt. It gives you the chance to really perfect your recipes, and there have been multiple occasions where you’ve brought in Matt-approved cookies or muffins to work and had your coworkers praise your skills. 

Today, you’re working with a cheesecake. Not a particularly difficult recipe, but you’re trying to figure out how to modify the batter with fruit compotes and for some reason, the goddamn peaches are not doing what they’re supposed to. 

You slide your third failed attempt out of the oven and stare at the browned, crusted edges, a far-cry from the smooth finish that this recipe usually produces. The air smells like over-caramelized fruit and something badly burned. The crust, you know without even checking, is beyond saving. 

“What am I doing wrong?” you mutter to yourself, flipping through your notes. Baked it too long, probably, but you’ve been decreasing the time with every attempt and you’re still not getting it. “It’s just a cheesecake, for crying out loud—”

“What happened?” Matt asks, coming in from the bedroom, even though you know he can smell the disaster from a mile away. 

“Burned it,” you say, not even flinching as he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

Matt hums, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Got a fork?”

“It’s too hot!” you protest, even as he reaches around and pulls a fork out of the drawer. He releases you to scoop a small bite into his mouth. “You Catholics and your self-flagellation.”

“Too much sugar,” he says, swallowing. The corners of his eyes crinkle up in that adorable way of his, and you can’t help but smile, even if he’d stupidly eaten burning-hot cheesecake. “Other than that? I think it’s perfect.”

“You’re just being nice,” you mutter, accepting the kiss on the cheek. 

“Nope,” he says with a grin. As if to spite you, he takes another bite of the cheesecake. “Lower the sugar in the batter and the compote. Also, the compote needs a little acidity.”

“How’s the crust?” you ask. 

“Burnt.”

You swat his shoulder lightly. “I’m being serious.”

“Add a little salt.”

You smile and lean in to kiss him. His lips taste like cheesecake. “Thank you.”

“You’re going to nail it this time,” he says, squeezing your arm before heading to the living room. 

You make the modifications he suggested and, unsurprisingly, when you pull this one out of the oven, it comes out perfect, the orange swirl of peach compote standing out brightly against the creamy white batter. This time, Matt lets you have the first taste (after it’s been chilled for a couple hours), and you end up sharing a slice on the couch after dinner. 

“See? I told you,” Matt says. 

You nudge his thigh with your socked foot and steal the plate back from him. “Mr. Always Right. That’s what they should call you.”

“Nah,” he says, grinning. “I’m only right about a couple things.”

“Like what?”

“Like you,” he says. He reaches over and runs his fingers through your hair, before pulling you closer to kiss you. You smile against his lips. But when you lean back, you find your hands empty. You gasp in shock and watch him take the last bite before setting the plate on the coffee table. 

“Matthew!” 

“And this cheesecake,” he says, dodging the pillow you throw.

“You’re so annoying,” you grumble, pushing him back against the couch cushions and kissing him. 

“But you love me,” Matt says, and in the warm light of your shared apartment, his dark eyes glitter at you. He’s still smiling, his hands gripping your waist, and your heart aches with your affection for him. 

“Yeah,” you say, leaning in again. “You’re right about that, too.”

[lena-honey-writes]

aww thank you for reading!!!

the good & the bad

matt murdock x gn!reader

you're having an anxiety attack, and matt helps you feel better.

(hurt/comfort, 1200 words)

warnings: mentions of prescription medication and descriptions of anxiety.

**i myself have anxiety, so i'm basing this off of some of my own experiences with anxiety attacks.

request guidelines

~~~~~~

The day starts off well. 

You’re about a year into your relationship with Matt, whom you’d met through a fundraiser dinner that had been held by your previous job as a paralegal at Davis & Cooper. Nelson, Murdock, & Page had been in attendance as well, and the second Karen introduced you to Matt, the two of you had been smitten. After a string of failed relationships, this felt like fate—this was the man you’d be with for a long, long time. 

Of course, finding out he was Daredevil had put a little damper on the relationship for a bit, but you’re doing better now. You didn’t blame Matt for hiding that side of him when you had secrets of your own.

Now, you’re working at Matt’s firm, taking over the paralegal position from Karen, and today had started off well. It’s a busy morning—you have a lot of those—but most of the time, the work feels good. It feels good to know that you’re helping people, no matter how small your role might be. Plus, it’s nice to know that you’re working with your boyfriend and friends. It’s a much better environment than Davis & Cooper, and you’re not even biased about that. 

But things are different today, because around two hours after the office had opened, you’d had to deal with a particularly stubborn man who hadn’t agreed with the methods set by the firm, and it had set something off inside of you. 

You’d been diagnosed with anxiety a couple of years ago, right around the time you’d started out at Davis & Cooper (funny timing, right?) and were on medication for it. But, as luck would have it, you’d run out the previous week and hadn’t had time to refill your prescription. 

Now, you guess, you’re paying the price for it. 

Your head spins when you get up from your desk, and you have to steady yourself against it with your hip, holding onto the file in your hands tightly so you don’t drop it. Your breath catches in your throat, pulse hammering in your head. It feels like there’s a vice around your ribs, squeezing your organs into paste. 

Shit, shit, shit. You take a deep breath, silently as you can, but it rattles in your lungs. And, well, nothing you do could ever be truly silent when you’re dating and working with Daredevil. 

“Are you okay?” Matt asks, as if knowing he’s on your mind. 

Your head jerks up, eyes landing on him. “What?”

“Your heart,” he says. “It’s beating quicker than usual, and your breathing is uneven. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you say, even though you know he’ll sense the lie and call you out for it later. “I’m fine. Promise.”

Matt’s glasses hide most of his emotions, but you can see the tightening of his face. Still, he doesn’t say anything, just nods and turns back to his work. The lie only makes your chest feel even more constricted, and you have to grip the file to steady your hands. 

You continue working, going about the next few hours with your anxiety still high in your throat. You’ve been living with it for long enough that you’re usually pretty good at hiding it, even when it’s bad. Medication has helped too—when you’re consistent with it, it’s almost nonexistent. Right now, none of the clients seem to notice anything. Karen and Foggy don’t either. Which is good, because the last thing you’d want is for your stupid anxiety to slow you all down. 

But, yeah, there’s Matt. Matt is bound to notice. He notices almost everything. 

“Sweetheart, I need to talk to you for a second.”

You catch Karen’s eye across the room, and she shrugs. You get up and walk unsteadily towards Matt’s office and find him sitting behind his desk, face eerily blank. 

“Shut the door,” he says quietly. 

Once you do, you take the seat across from him. “Is everything okay?”

“Are you?”

You freeze. It feels like there’s a bee crawling along your neck, buzzing incessantly. It doesn’t feel good. 

“Your heart has been beating almost twice as fast as it usually does,” Matt continues at the same volume. “Your breathing hasn’t evened out. You got lightheaded earlier. And, baby, you lied to me about it.” His voice breaks off a little at the end, and your heart cracks. “You’re in pain. I don’t—I don’t know what’s going on. Please, if you can—please tell me.”

You stay silent for a moment, mouth dry. Your chest aches. Your hands are trembling. Your head hurts. 

“What is it?” he asks gently, as if he can sense your nerves. “You can tell me anything. If you’re sick or hurt, I want to be able to help you.”

You clear your throat, and when you speak, it feels like the words are made of broken glass. “I think I’m going to have an anxiety attack, Matt.”

He straightens up, worry creasing his forehead. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“We’re so busy today,” you say as he gets up from his seat and rounds the desk to stand in front of you. He reaches up, cupping your cheek, fingers pressing to your pulse point. You lean into his touch, eyes sliding shut, and it’s then that you feel a tear slip down your cheek. “I just—I didn’t want to be an inconvenience.”

“You’re never an inconvenience, sweetheart,” he says softly, leaning down and kissing your forehead. “What do you need, baby? Do you need to go home?”

“No, I’ll be fine,” you say. You hesitate. “Can you just hold me for a few minutes?”

“Of course.”

He pulls you onto the couch squeezed against one wall of his office, and he wraps his arms around you, letting you lean into him. He smells like cinnamon-tinged aftershave and clean laundry, a combination that’s so distinctly him that it immediately soothes every nerve in your body. His arms, strong from being Daredevil for so many years, are better than any weighted blanket, and before long, you feel yourself turning to putty against him. 

Matt presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “Heart’s slowing down.”

You hum. Your chest doesn’t feel as tight anymore. It makes it easier to talk. “I got diagnosed a few years ago. Usually it’s not that bad, but today…”

“What happened?” he asks. 

“I haven’t been able to refill my medication,” you confess. “Haven’t had time.”

“We’re going to lunch right now,” he says. 

You pull away, alarmed. “We’re not on lunch for another couple hours.”

“I’m taking you to the pharmacy, and while we’re waiting for your prescription to get filled, I’m going to buy burgers for both of us,” Matt says. “If you want, of course.”

There’s a tightness in your chest again, but not because of anxiety. It’s because you just—you love this man so much. It hurts, but it’s a good pain. The best kind, because it means you’re alive, and you have him. 

“I love you,” you say, leaning in and kissing him. He smiles against your lips. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

~~

And, well. They’re the best damn burgers you’ve ever had in your entire life.

#idk if i should be happy or sad that you relate 😭 #anxiety is not fun

[lena-honey-writes]

the perfect cheesecake

You’re normally a pretty good baker, but today, you’re having trouble with a cheesecake. Good thing Matt is a fantastic taste-tester.

(fluff, 700 words)

**i don't bake lol i just thought this was a cute idea

request guidelines

~~~~~~

One of the fun little surprises that came with dating Daredevil was finding out that he had really sensitive taste buds. Like, beyond anything else you’d ever seen. He could list all the individual layers of flavors, single out spices, explain what should’ve been taken out or added in. If you were anyone else, you probably would’ve taken offense to someone being so critical of your baking, but you love it, especially since it's Matt. It gives you the chance to really perfect your recipes, and there have been multiple occasions where you’ve brought in Matt-approved cookies or muffins to work and had your coworkers praise your skills. 

Today, you’re working with a cheesecake. Not a particularly difficult recipe, but you’re trying to figure out how to modify the batter with fruit compotes and for some reason, the goddamn peaches are not doing what they’re supposed to. 

You slide your third failed attempt out of the oven and stare at the browned, crusted edges, a far-cry from the smooth finish that this recipe usually produces. The air smells like over-caramelized fruit and something badly burned. The crust, you know without even checking, is beyond saving. 

“What am I doing wrong?” you mutter to yourself, flipping through your notes. Baked it too long, probably, but you’ve been decreasing the time with every attempt and you’re still not getting it. “It’s just a cheesecake, for crying out loud—”

“What happened?” Matt asks, coming in from the bedroom, even though you know he can smell the disaster from a mile away. 

“Burned it,” you say, not even flinching as he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

Matt hums, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Got a fork?”

“It’s too hot!” you protest, even as he reaches around and pulls a fork out of the drawer. He releases you to scoop a small bite into his mouth. “You Catholics and your self-flagellation.”

“Too much sugar,” he says, swallowing. The corners of his eyes crinkle up in that adorable way of his, and you can’t help but smile, even if he’d stupidly eaten burning-hot cheesecake. “Other than that? I think it’s perfect.”

“You’re just being nice,” you mutter, accepting the kiss on the cheek. 

“Nope,” he says with a grin. As if to spite you, he takes another bite of the cheesecake. “Lower the sugar in the batter and the compote. Also, the compote needs a little acidity.”

“How’s the crust?” you ask. 

“Burnt.”

You swat his shoulder lightly. “I’m being serious.”

“Add a little salt.”

You smile and lean in to kiss him. His lips taste like cheesecake. “Thank you.”

“You’re going to nail it this time,” he says, squeezing your arm before heading to the living room. 

You make the modifications he suggested and, unsurprisingly, when you pull this one out of the oven, it comes out perfect, the orange swirl of peach compote standing out brightly against the creamy white batter. This time, Matt lets you have the first taste (after it’s been chilled for a couple hours), and you end up sharing a slice on the couch after dinner. 

“See? I told you,” Matt says. 

You nudge his thigh with your socked foot and steal the plate back from him. “Mr. Always Right. That’s what they should call you.”

“Nah,” he says, grinning. “I’m only right about a couple things.”

“Like what?”

“Like you,” he says. He reaches over and runs his fingers through your hair, before pulling you closer to kiss you. You smile against his lips. But when you lean back, you find your hands empty. You gasp in shock and watch him take the last bite before setting the plate on the coffee table. 

“Matthew!” 

“And this cheesecake,” he says, dodging the pillow you throw.

“You’re so annoying,” you grumble, pushing him back against the couch cushions and kissing him. 

“But you love me,” Matt says, and in the warm light of your shared apartment, his dark eyes glitter at you. He’s still smiling, his hands gripping your waist, and your heart aches with your affection for him. 

“Yeah,” you say, leaning in again. “You’re right about that, too.”

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #daredevil #fanfiction #fanfic #matt murdock fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfic writer #fluff

[lena-honey-writes]

BEEEEEEEE i love you so much 😭😭 thank you sm for reading!!!!

the good & the bad

matt murdock x gn!reader

you're having an anxiety attack, and matt helps you feel better.

(hurt/comfort, 1200 words)

warnings: mentions of prescription medication and descriptions of anxiety.

**i myself have anxiety, so i'm basing this off of some of my own experiences with anxiety attacks.

request guidelines

~~~~~~

The day starts off well. 

You’re about a year into your relationship with Matt, whom you’d met through a fundraiser dinner that had been held by your previous job as a paralegal at Davis & Cooper. Nelson, Murdock, & Page had been in attendance as well, and the second Karen introduced you to Matt, the two of you had been smitten. After a string of failed relationships, this felt like fate—this was the man you’d be with for a long, long time. 

Of course, finding out he was Daredevil had put a little damper on the relationship for a bit, but you’re doing better now. You didn’t blame Matt for hiding that side of him when you had secrets of your own.

Now, you’re working at Matt’s firm, taking over the paralegal position from Karen, and today had started off well. It’s a busy morning—you have a lot of those—but most of the time, the work feels good. It feels good to know that you’re helping people, no matter how small your role might be. Plus, it’s nice to know that you’re working with your boyfriend and friends. It’s a much better environment than Davis & Cooper, and you’re not even biased about that. 

But things are different today, because around two hours after the office had opened, you’d had to deal with a particularly stubborn man who hadn’t agreed with the methods set by the firm, and it had set something off inside of you. 

You’d been diagnosed with anxiety a couple of years ago, right around the time you’d started out at Davis & Cooper (funny timing, right?) and were on medication for it. But, as luck would have it, you’d run out the previous week and hadn’t had time to refill your prescription. 

Now, you guess, you’re paying the price for it. 

Your head spins when you get up from your desk, and you have to steady yourself against it with your hip, holding onto the file in your hands tightly so you don’t drop it. Your breath catches in your throat, pulse hammering in your head. It feels like there’s a vice around your ribs, squeezing your organs into paste. 

Shit, shit, shit. You take a deep breath, silently as you can, but it rattles in your lungs. And, well, nothing you do could ever be truly silent when you’re dating and working with Daredevil. 

“Are you okay?” Matt asks, as if knowing he’s on your mind. 

Your head jerks up, eyes landing on him. “What?”

“Your heart,” he says. “It’s beating quicker than usual, and your breathing is uneven. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you say, even though you know he’ll sense the lie and call you out for it later. “I’m fine. Promise.”

Matt’s glasses hide most of his emotions, but you can see the tightening of his face. Still, he doesn’t say anything, just nods and turns back to his work. The lie only makes your chest feel even more constricted, and you have to grip the file to steady your hands. 

You continue working, going about the next few hours with your anxiety still high in your throat. You’ve been living with it for long enough that you’re usually pretty good at hiding it, even when it’s bad. Medication has helped too—when you’re consistent with it, it’s almost nonexistent. Right now, none of the clients seem to notice anything. Karen and Foggy don’t either. Which is good, because the last thing you’d want is for your stupid anxiety to slow you all down. 

But, yeah, there’s Matt. Matt is bound to notice. He notices almost everything. 

“Sweetheart, I need to talk to you for a second.”

You catch Karen’s eye across the room, and she shrugs. You get up and walk unsteadily towards Matt’s office and find him sitting behind his desk, face eerily blank. 

“Shut the door,” he says quietly. 

Once you do, you take the seat across from him. “Is everything okay?”

“Are you?”

You freeze. It feels like there’s a bee crawling along your neck, buzzing incessantly. It doesn’t feel good. 

“Your heart has been beating almost twice as fast as it usually does,” Matt continues at the same volume. “Your breathing hasn’t evened out. You got lightheaded earlier. And, baby, you lied to me about it.” His voice breaks off a little at the end, and your heart cracks. “You’re in pain. I don’t—I don’t know what’s going on. Please, if you can—please tell me.”

You stay silent for a moment, mouth dry. Your chest aches. Your hands are trembling. Your head hurts. 

“What is it?” he asks gently, as if he can sense your nerves. “You can tell me anything. If you’re sick or hurt, I want to be able to help you.”

You clear your throat, and when you speak, it feels like the words are made of broken glass. “I think I’m going to have an anxiety attack, Matt.”

He straightens up, worry creasing his forehead. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“We’re so busy today,” you say as he gets up from his seat and rounds the desk to stand in front of you. He reaches up, cupping your cheek, fingers pressing to your pulse point. You lean into his touch, eyes sliding shut, and it’s then that you feel a tear slip down your cheek. “I just—I didn’t want to be an inconvenience.”

“You’re never an inconvenience, sweetheart,” he says softly, leaning down and kissing your forehead. “What do you need, baby? Do you need to go home?”

“No, I’ll be fine,” you say. You hesitate. “Can you just hold me for a few minutes?”

“Of course.”

He pulls you onto the couch squeezed against one wall of his office, and he wraps his arms around you, letting you lean into him. He smells like cinnamon-tinged aftershave and clean laundry, a combination that’s so distinctly him that it immediately soothes every nerve in your body. His arms, strong from being Daredevil for so many years, are better than any weighted blanket, and before long, you feel yourself turning to putty against him. 

Matt presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “Heart’s slowing down.”

You hum. Your chest doesn’t feel as tight anymore. It makes it easier to talk. “I got diagnosed a few years ago. Usually it’s not that bad, but today…”

“What happened?” he asks. 

“I haven’t been able to refill my medication,” you confess. “Haven’t had time.”

“We’re going to lunch right now,” he says. 

You pull away, alarmed. “We’re not on lunch for another couple hours.”

“I’m taking you to the pharmacy, and while we’re waiting for your prescription to get filled, I’m going to buy burgers for both of us,” Matt says. “If you want, of course.”

There’s a tightness in your chest again, but not because of anxiety. It’s because you just—you love this man so much. It hurts, but it’s a good pain. The best kind, because it means you’re alive, and you have him. 

“I love you,” you say, leaning in and kissing him. He smiles against your lips. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

~~

And, well. They’re the best damn burgers you’ve ever had in your entire life.

#i adore you :’)

[lena-honey-writes]

thank you so much!!! 💜💜

the good & the bad

matt murdock x gn!reader

you're having an anxiety attack, and matt helps you feel better.

(hurt/comfort, 1200 words)

warnings: mentions of prescription medication and descriptions of anxiety.

**i myself have anxiety, so i'm basing this off of some of my own experiences with anxiety attacks.

request guidelines

~~~~~~

The day starts off well. 

You’re about a year into your relationship with Matt, whom you’d met through a fundraiser dinner that had been held by your previous job as a paralegal at Davis & Cooper. Nelson, Murdock, & Page had been in attendance as well, and the second Karen introduced you to Matt, the two of you had been smitten. After a string of failed relationships, this felt like fate—this was the man you’d be with for a long, long time. 

Of course, finding out he was Daredevil had put a little damper on the relationship for a bit, but you’re doing better now. You didn’t blame Matt for hiding that side of him when you had secrets of your own.

Now, you’re working at Matt’s firm, taking over the paralegal position from Karen, and today had started off well. It’s a busy morning—you have a lot of those—but most of the time, the work feels good. It feels good to know that you’re helping people, no matter how small your role might be. Plus, it’s nice to know that you’re working with your boyfriend and friends. It’s a much better environment than Davis & Cooper, and you’re not even biased about that. 

But things are different today, because around two hours after the office had opened, you’d had to deal with a particularly stubborn man who hadn’t agreed with the methods set by the firm, and it had set something off inside of you. 

You’d been diagnosed with anxiety a couple of years ago, right around the time you’d started out at Davis & Cooper (funny timing, right?) and were on medication for it. But, as luck would have it, you’d run out the previous week and hadn’t had time to refill your prescription. 

Now, you guess, you’re paying the price for it. 

Your head spins when you get up from your desk, and you have to steady yourself against it with your hip, holding onto the file in your hands tightly so you don’t drop it. Your breath catches in your throat, pulse hammering in your head. It feels like there’s a vice around your ribs, squeezing your organs into paste. 

Shit, shit, shit. You take a deep breath, silently as you can, but it rattles in your lungs. And, well, nothing you do could ever be truly silent when you’re dating and working with Daredevil. 

“Are you okay?” Matt asks, as if knowing he’s on your mind. 

Your head jerks up, eyes landing on him. “What?”

“Your heart,” he says. “It’s beating quicker than usual, and your breathing is uneven. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you say, even though you know he’ll sense the lie and call you out for it later. “I’m fine. Promise.”

Matt’s glasses hide most of his emotions, but you can see the tightening of his face. Still, he doesn’t say anything, just nods and turns back to his work. The lie only makes your chest feel even more constricted, and you have to grip the file to steady your hands. 

You continue working, going about the next few hours with your anxiety still high in your throat. You’ve been living with it for long enough that you’re usually pretty good at hiding it, even when it’s bad. Medication has helped too—when you’re consistent with it, it’s almost nonexistent. Right now, none of the clients seem to notice anything. Karen and Foggy don’t either. Which is good, because the last thing you’d want is for your stupid anxiety to slow you all down. 

But, yeah, there’s Matt. Matt is bound to notice. He notices almost everything. 

“Sweetheart, I need to talk to you for a second.”

You catch Karen’s eye across the room, and she shrugs. You get up and walk unsteadily towards Matt’s office and find him sitting behind his desk, face eerily blank. 

“Shut the door,” he says quietly. 

Once you do, you take the seat across from him. “Is everything okay?”

“Are you?”

You freeze. It feels like there’s a bee crawling along your neck, buzzing incessantly. It doesn’t feel good. 

“Your heart has been beating almost twice as fast as it usually does,” Matt continues at the same volume. “Your breathing hasn’t evened out. You got lightheaded earlier. And, baby, you lied to me about it.” His voice breaks off a little at the end, and your heart cracks. “You’re in pain. I don’t—I don’t know what’s going on. Please, if you can—please tell me.”

You stay silent for a moment, mouth dry. Your chest aches. Your hands are trembling. Your head hurts. 

“What is it?” he asks gently, as if he can sense your nerves. “You can tell me anything. If you’re sick or hurt, I want to be able to help you.”

You clear your throat, and when you speak, it feels like the words are made of broken glass. “I think I’m going to have an anxiety attack, Matt.”

He straightens up, worry creasing his forehead. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“We’re so busy today,” you say as he gets up from his seat and rounds the desk to stand in front of you. He reaches up, cupping your cheek, fingers pressing to your pulse point. You lean into his touch, eyes sliding shut, and it’s then that you feel a tear slip down your cheek. “I just—I didn’t want to be an inconvenience.”

“You’re never an inconvenience, sweetheart,” he says softly, leaning down and kissing your forehead. “What do you need, baby? Do you need to go home?”

“No, I’ll be fine,” you say. You hesitate. “Can you just hold me for a few minutes?”

“Of course.”

He pulls you onto the couch squeezed against one wall of his office, and he wraps his arms around you, letting you lean into him. He smells like cinnamon-tinged aftershave and clean laundry, a combination that’s so distinctly him that it immediately soothes every nerve in your body. His arms, strong from being Daredevil for so many years, are better than any weighted blanket, and before long, you feel yourself turning to putty against him. 

Matt presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “Heart’s slowing down.”

You hum. Your chest doesn’t feel as tight anymore. It makes it easier to talk. “I got diagnosed a few years ago. Usually it’s not that bad, but today…”

“What happened?” he asks. 

“I haven’t been able to refill my medication,” you confess. “Haven’t had time.”

“We’re going to lunch right now,” he says. 

You pull away, alarmed. “We’re not on lunch for another couple hours.”

“I’m taking you to the pharmacy, and while we’re waiting for your prescription to get filled, I’m going to buy burgers for both of us,” Matt says. “If you want, of course.”

There’s a tightness in your chest again, but not because of anxiety. It’s because you just—you love this man so much. It hurts, but it’s a good pain. The best kind, because it means you’re alive, and you have him. 

“I love you,” you say, leaning in and kissing him. He smiles against your lips. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

~~

And, well. They’re the best damn burgers you’ve ever had in your entire life.

[lena-honey-writes]

thank you for all the love on my new matt murdock x reader fic the good & the bad !! i’m so excited to keep writing these fun little fics :’) remember that if there’s anything you want me to write, feel free to request it!!

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #fanfiction #fanfic

[lena-honey-writes]

thank you for reading!!!! i hope you feel better 💜

the good & the bad

matt murdock x gn!reader

you're having an anxiety attack, and matt helps you feel better.

(hurt/comfort, 1200 words)

warnings: mentions of prescription medication and descriptions of anxiety.

**i myself have anxiety, so i'm basing this off of some of my own experiences with anxiety attacks.

request guidelines

~~~~~~

The day starts off well. 

You’re about a year into your relationship with Matt, whom you’d met through a fundraiser dinner that had been held by your previous job as a paralegal at Davis & Cooper. Nelson, Murdock, & Page had been in attendance as well, and the second Karen introduced you to Matt, the two of you had been smitten. After a string of failed relationships, this felt like fate—this was the man you’d be with for a long, long time. 

Of course, finding out he was Daredevil had put a little damper on the relationship for a bit, but you’re doing better now. You didn’t blame Matt for hiding that side of him when you had secrets of your own.

Now, you’re working at Matt’s firm, taking over the paralegal position from Karen, and today had started off well. It’s a busy morning—you have a lot of those—but most of the time, the work feels good. It feels good to know that you’re helping people, no matter how small your role might be. Plus, it’s nice to know that you’re working with your boyfriend and friends. It’s a much better environment than Davis & Cooper, and you’re not even biased about that. 

But things are different today, because around two hours after the office had opened, you’d had to deal with a particularly stubborn man who hadn’t agreed with the methods set by the firm, and it had set something off inside of you. 

You’d been diagnosed with anxiety a couple of years ago, right around the time you’d started out at Davis & Cooper (funny timing, right?) and were on medication for it. But, as luck would have it, you’d run out the previous week and hadn’t had time to refill your prescription. 

Now, you guess, you’re paying the price for it. 

Your head spins when you get up from your desk, and you have to steady yourself against it with your hip, holding onto the file in your hands tightly so you don’t drop it. Your breath catches in your throat, pulse hammering in your head. It feels like there’s a vice around your ribs, squeezing your organs into paste. 

Shit, shit, shit. You take a deep breath, silently as you can, but it rattles in your lungs. And, well, nothing you do could ever be truly silent when you’re dating and working with Daredevil. 

“Are you okay?” Matt asks, as if knowing he’s on your mind. 

Your head jerks up, eyes landing on him. “What?”

“Your heart,” he says. “It’s beating quicker than usual, and your breathing is uneven. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you say, even though you know he’ll sense the lie and call you out for it later. “I’m fine. Promise.”

Matt’s glasses hide most of his emotions, but you can see the tightening of his face. Still, he doesn’t say anything, just nods and turns back to his work. The lie only makes your chest feel even more constricted, and you have to grip the file to steady your hands. 

You continue working, going about the next few hours with your anxiety still high in your throat. You’ve been living with it for long enough that you’re usually pretty good at hiding it, even when it’s bad. Medication has helped too—when you’re consistent with it, it’s almost nonexistent. Right now, none of the clients seem to notice anything. Karen and Foggy don’t either. Which is good, because the last thing you’d want is for your stupid anxiety to slow you all down. 

But, yeah, there’s Matt. Matt is bound to notice. He notices almost everything. 

“Sweetheart, I need to talk to you for a second.”

You catch Karen’s eye across the room, and she shrugs. You get up and walk unsteadily towards Matt’s office and find him sitting behind his desk, face eerily blank. 

“Shut the door,” he says quietly. 

Once you do, you take the seat across from him. “Is everything okay?”

“Are you?”

You freeze. It feels like there’s a bee crawling along your neck, buzzing incessantly. It doesn’t feel good. 

“Your heart has been beating almost twice as fast as it usually does,” Matt continues at the same volume. “Your breathing hasn’t evened out. You got lightheaded earlier. And, baby, you lied to me about it.” His voice breaks off a little at the end, and your heart cracks. “You’re in pain. I don’t—I don’t know what’s going on. Please, if you can—please tell me.”

You stay silent for a moment, mouth dry. Your chest aches. Your hands are trembling. Your head hurts. 

“What is it?” he asks gently, as if he can sense your nerves. “You can tell me anything. If you’re sick or hurt, I want to be able to help you.”

You clear your throat, and when you speak, it feels like the words are made of broken glass. “I think I’m going to have an anxiety attack, Matt.”

He straightens up, worry creasing his forehead. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“We’re so busy today,” you say as he gets up from his seat and rounds the desk to stand in front of you. He reaches up, cupping your cheek, fingers pressing to your pulse point. You lean into his touch, eyes sliding shut, and it’s then that you feel a tear slip down your cheek. “I just—I didn’t want to be an inconvenience.”

“You’re never an inconvenience, sweetheart,” he says softly, leaning down and kissing your forehead. “What do you need, baby? Do you need to go home?”

“No, I’ll be fine,” you say. You hesitate. “Can you just hold me for a few minutes?”

“Of course.”

He pulls you onto the couch squeezed against one wall of his office, and he wraps his arms around you, letting you lean into him. He smells like cinnamon-tinged aftershave and clean laundry, a combination that’s so distinctly him that it immediately soothes every nerve in your body. His arms, strong from being Daredevil for so many years, are better than any weighted blanket, and before long, you feel yourself turning to putty against him. 

Matt presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “Heart’s slowing down.”

You hum. Your chest doesn’t feel as tight anymore. It makes it easier to talk. “I got diagnosed a few years ago. Usually it’s not that bad, but today…”

“What happened?” he asks. 

“I haven’t been able to refill my medication,” you confess. “Haven’t had time.”

“We’re going to lunch right now,” he says. 

You pull away, alarmed. “We’re not on lunch for another couple hours.”

“I’m taking you to the pharmacy, and while we’re waiting for your prescription to get filled, I’m going to buy burgers for both of us,” Matt says. “If you want, of course.”

There’s a tightness in your chest again, but not because of anxiety. It’s because you just—you love this man so much. It hurts, but it’s a good pain. The best kind, because it means you’re alive, and you have him. 

“I love you,” you say, leaning in and kissing him. He smiles against your lips. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

~~

And, well. They’re the best damn burgers you’ve ever had in your entire life.

[lena-honey-writes]

thank you so much, friend!! 💜💜

the good & the bad

matt murdock x gn!reader

you're having an anxiety attack, and matt helps you feel better.

(hurt/comfort, 1200 words)

warnings: mentions of prescription medication and descriptions of anxiety.

**i myself have anxiety, so i'm basing this off of some of my own experiences with anxiety attacks.

request guidelines

~~~~~~

The day starts off well. 

You’re about a year into your relationship with Matt, whom you’d met through a fundraiser dinner that had been held by your previous job as a paralegal at Davis & Cooper. Nelson, Murdock, & Page had been in attendance as well, and the second Karen introduced you to Matt, the two of you had been smitten. After a string of failed relationships, this felt like fate—this was the man you’d be with for a long, long time. 

Of course, finding out he was Daredevil had put a little damper on the relationship for a bit, but you’re doing better now. You didn’t blame Matt for hiding that side of him when you had secrets of your own.

Now, you’re working at Matt’s firm, taking over the paralegal position from Karen, and today had started off well. It’s a busy morning—you have a lot of those—but most of the time, the work feels good. It feels good to know that you’re helping people, no matter how small your role might be. Plus, it’s nice to know that you’re working with your boyfriend and friends. It’s a much better environment than Davis & Cooper, and you’re not even biased about that. 

But things are different today, because around two hours after the office had opened, you’d had to deal with a particularly stubborn man who hadn’t agreed with the methods set by the firm, and it had set something off inside of you. 

You’d been diagnosed with anxiety a couple of years ago, right around the time you’d started out at Davis & Cooper (funny timing, right?) and were on medication for it. But, as luck would have it, you’d run out the previous week and hadn’t had time to refill your prescription. 

Now, you guess, you’re paying the price for it. 

Your head spins when you get up from your desk, and you have to steady yourself against it with your hip, holding onto the file in your hands tightly so you don’t drop it. Your breath catches in your throat, pulse hammering in your head. It feels like there’s a vice around your ribs, squeezing your organs into paste. 

Shit, shit, shit. You take a deep breath, silently as you can, but it rattles in your lungs. And, well, nothing you do could ever be truly silent when you’re dating and working with Daredevil. 

“Are you okay?” Matt asks, as if knowing he’s on your mind. 

Your head jerks up, eyes landing on him. “What?”

“Your heart,” he says. “It’s beating quicker than usual, and your breathing is uneven. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you say, even though you know he’ll sense the lie and call you out for it later. “I’m fine. Promise.”

Matt’s glasses hide most of his emotions, but you can see the tightening of his face. Still, he doesn’t say anything, just nods and turns back to his work. The lie only makes your chest feel even more constricted, and you have to grip the file to steady your hands. 

You continue working, going about the next few hours with your anxiety still high in your throat. You’ve been living with it for long enough that you’re usually pretty good at hiding it, even when it’s bad. Medication has helped too—when you’re consistent with it, it’s almost nonexistent. Right now, none of the clients seem to notice anything. Karen and Foggy don’t either. Which is good, because the last thing you’d want is for your stupid anxiety to slow you all down. 

But, yeah, there’s Matt. Matt is bound to notice. He notices almost everything. 

“Sweetheart, I need to talk to you for a second.”

You catch Karen’s eye across the room, and she shrugs. You get up and walk unsteadily towards Matt’s office and find him sitting behind his desk, face eerily blank. 

“Shut the door,” he says quietly. 

Once you do, you take the seat across from him. “Is everything okay?”

“Are you?”

You freeze. It feels like there’s a bee crawling along your neck, buzzing incessantly. It doesn’t feel good. 

“Your heart has been beating almost twice as fast as it usually does,” Matt continues at the same volume. “Your breathing hasn’t evened out. You got lightheaded earlier. And, baby, you lied to me about it.” His voice breaks off a little at the end, and your heart cracks. “You’re in pain. I don’t—I don’t know what’s going on. Please, if you can—please tell me.”

You stay silent for a moment, mouth dry. Your chest aches. Your hands are trembling. Your head hurts. 

“What is it?” he asks gently, as if he can sense your nerves. “You can tell me anything. If you’re sick or hurt, I want to be able to help you.”

You clear your throat, and when you speak, it feels like the words are made of broken glass. “I think I’m going to have an anxiety attack, Matt.”

He straightens up, worry creasing his forehead. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“We’re so busy today,” you say as he gets up from his seat and rounds the desk to stand in front of you. He reaches up, cupping your cheek, fingers pressing to your pulse point. You lean into his touch, eyes sliding shut, and it’s then that you feel a tear slip down your cheek. “I just—I didn’t want to be an inconvenience.”

“You’re never an inconvenience, sweetheart,” he says softly, leaning down and kissing your forehead. “What do you need, baby? Do you need to go home?”

“No, I’ll be fine,” you say. You hesitate. “Can you just hold me for a few minutes?”

“Of course.”

He pulls you onto the couch squeezed against one wall of his office, and he wraps his arms around you, letting you lean into him. He smells like cinnamon-tinged aftershave and clean laundry, a combination that’s so distinctly him that it immediately soothes every nerve in your body. His arms, strong from being Daredevil for so many years, are better than any weighted blanket, and before long, you feel yourself turning to putty against him. 

Matt presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “Heart’s slowing down.”

You hum. Your chest doesn’t feel as tight anymore. It makes it easier to talk. “I got diagnosed a few years ago. Usually it’s not that bad, but today…”

“What happened?” he asks. 

“I haven’t been able to refill my medication,” you confess. “Haven’t had time.”

“We’re going to lunch right now,” he says. 

You pull away, alarmed. “We’re not on lunch for another couple hours.”

“I’m taking you to the pharmacy, and while we’re waiting for your prescription to get filled, I’m going to buy burgers for both of us,” Matt says. “If you want, of course.”

There’s a tightness in your chest again, but not because of anxiety. It’s because you just—you love this man so much. It hurts, but it’s a good pain. The best kind, because it means you’re alive, and you have him. 

“I love you,” you say, leaning in and kissing him. He smiles against your lips. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

~~

And, well. They’re the best damn burgers you’ve ever had in your entire life.

[lena-honey-writes]

masterlist

interested in requesting a fic? see here!

keep reading for the full list

matt murdock x reader

the good & the bad: you're having an anxiety attack, and matt helps you feel better. (hurt/comfort, 1200 words)

the perfect cheesecake: you’re normally a pretty good baker, but today, you’re having trouble with a cheesecake. good thing matt is a fantastic taste-tester. (fluff, 700 words)

#masterlist #fanfiction #fanfic

[lena-honey-writes]

the good & the bad

you're having an anxiety attack, and matt helps you feel better.

(hurt/comfort, 1200 words)

warnings: mentions of prescription medication and descriptions of anxiety.

**i myself have anxiety, so i'm basing this off of some of my own experiences with anxiety attacks.

request guidelines

~~~~~~

The day starts off well. 

You’re about a year into your relationship with Matt, whom you’d met through a fundraiser dinner that had been held by your previous job as a paralegal at Davis & Cooper. Nelson, Murdock, & Page had been in attendance as well, and the second Karen introduced you to Matt, the two of you had been smitten. After a string of failed relationships, this felt like fate—this was the man you’d be with for a long, long time. 

Of course, finding out he was Daredevil had put a little damper on the relationship for a bit, but you’re doing better now. You didn’t blame Matt for hiding that side of him when you had secrets of your own.

Now, you’re working at Matt’s firm, taking over the paralegal position from Karen, and today had started off well. It’s a busy morning—you have a lot of those—but most of the time, the work feels good. It feels good to know that you’re helping people, no matter how small your role might be. Plus, it’s nice to know that you’re working with your boyfriend and friends. It’s a much better environment than Davis & Cooper, and you’re not even biased about that. 

But things are different today, because around two hours after the office had opened, you’d had to deal with a particularly stubborn man who hadn’t agreed with the methods set by the firm, and it had set something off inside of you. 

You’d been diagnosed with anxiety a couple of years ago, right around the time you’d started out at Davis & Cooper (funny timing, right?) and were on medication for it. But, as luck would have it, you’d run out the previous week and hadn’t had time to refill your prescription. 

Now, you guess, you’re paying the price for it. 

Your head spins when you get up from your desk, and you have to steady yourself against it with your hip, holding onto the file in your hands tightly so you don’t drop it. Your breath catches in your throat, pulse hammering in your head. It feels like there’s a vice around your ribs, squeezing your organs into paste. 

Shit, shit, shit. You take a deep breath, silently as you can, but it rattles in your lungs. And, well, nothing you do could ever be truly silent when you’re dating and working with Daredevil. 

“Are you okay?” Matt asks, as if knowing he’s on your mind. 

Your head jerks up, eyes landing on him. “What?”

“Your heart,” he says. “It’s beating quicker than usual, and your breathing is uneven. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you say, even though you know he’ll sense the lie and call you out for it later. “I’m fine. Promise.”

Matt’s glasses hide most of his emotions, but you can see the tightening of his face. Still, he doesn’t say anything, just nods and turns back to his work. The lie only makes your chest feel even more constricted, and you have to grip the file to steady your hands. 

You continue working, going about the next few hours with your anxiety still high in your throat. You’ve been living with it for long enough that you’re usually pretty good at hiding it, even when it’s bad. Medication has helped too—when you’re consistent with it, it’s almost nonexistent. Right now, none of the clients seem to notice anything. Karen and Foggy don’t either. Which is good, because the last thing you’d want is for your stupid anxiety to slow you all down. 

But, yeah, there’s Matt. Matt is bound to notice. He notices almost everything. 

“Sweetheart, I need to talk to you for a second.”

You catch Karen’s eye across the room, and she shrugs. You get up and walk unsteadily towards Matt’s office and find him sitting behind his desk, face eerily blank. 

“Shut the door,” he says quietly. 

Once you do, you take the seat across from him. “Is everything okay?”

“Are you?”

You freeze. It feels like there’s a bee crawling along your neck, buzzing incessantly. It doesn’t feel good. 

“Your heart has been beating almost twice as fast as it usually does,” Matt continues at the same volume. “Your breathing hasn’t evened out. You got lightheaded earlier. And, baby, you lied to me about it.” His voice breaks off a little at the end, and your heart cracks. “You’re in pain. I don’t—I don’t know what’s going on. Please, if you can—please tell me.”

You stay silent for a moment, mouth dry. Your chest aches. Your hands are trembling. Your head hurts. 

“What is it?” he asks gently, as if he can sense your nerves. “You can tell me anything. If you’re sick or hurt, I want to be able to help you.”

You clear your throat, and when you speak, it feels like the words are made of broken glass. “I think I’m going to have an anxiety attack, Matt.”

He straightens up, worry creasing his forehead. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“We’re so busy today,” you say as he gets up from his seat and rounds the desk to stand in front of you. He reaches up, cupping your cheek, fingers pressing to your pulse point. You lean into his touch, eyes sliding shut, and it’s then that you feel a tear slip down your cheek. “I just—I didn’t want to be an inconvenience.”

“You’re never an inconvenience, sweetheart,” he says softly, leaning down and kissing your forehead. “What do you need, baby? Do you need to go home?”

“No, I’ll be fine,” you say. You hesitate. “Can you just hold me for a few minutes?”

“Of course.”

He pulls you onto the couch squeezed against one wall of his office, and he wraps his arms around you, letting you lean into him. He smells like cinnamon-tinged aftershave and clean laundry, a combination that’s so distinctly him that it immediately soothes every nerve in your body. His arms, strong from being Daredevil for so many years, are better than any weighted blanket, and before long, you feel yourself turning to putty against him. 

Matt presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “Heart’s slowing down.”

You hum. Your chest doesn’t feel as tight anymore. It makes it easier to talk. “I got diagnosed a few years ago. Usually it’s not that bad, but today…”

“What happened?” he asks. 

“I haven’t been able to refill my medication,” you confess. “Haven’t had time.”

“We’re going to lunch right now,” he says. 

You pull away, alarmed. “We’re not on lunch for another couple hours.”

“I’m taking you to the pharmacy, and while we’re waiting for your prescription to get filled, I’m going to buy burgers for both of us,” Matt says. “If you want, of course.”

There’s a tightness in your chest again, but not because of anxiety. It’s because you just—you love this man so much. It hurts, but it’s a good pain. The best kind, because it means you’re alive, and you have him. 

“I love you,” you say, leaning in and kissing him. He smiles against your lips. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

~~

And, well. They’re the best damn burgers you’ve ever had in your entire life.

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #daredevil #fanfiction #fanfic #matt murdock fanfic #tw anxiety #fanfiction writer #fanfic writer #hurt comfort #hurt/comfort

[lena-honey-writes]

fic requests are officially open! if you’re interested in requesting, my guidelines are here :)

#fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction requests #fanfic requests

[lena-honey-writes]

characters & fandoms

if you’re interested in requesting a fic from me, here is a list of who and what i will write for! see here for my request guidelines

*this list will be updated over time

**the characters list is specifically for anyone who wants to request an x reader fanfic

fandoms

marvel (including the netflix/disney+ shows and agents of shield, as well as the amazing spiderman and spiderverse movies)

stranger things

the last of us (game & tv show)

arcane

the batman

star wars

good omens

characters (a-z by first name)

bruce wayne (the batman 2022)

bucky barnes

cassian andor

daisy johnson

din djarin

ellie williams

frank castle

foggy nelson

jessica jones

joel miller

karen page

matt murdock

miguel o’hara

nancy wheeler

natasha romanoff

peter parker (mcu)

peter parker (tasm)

poe dameron

robin buckley

sam wilson

steve harrington

vi (arcane)

#fanfiction #fanfiction requests #fanfic #fanfic requests #info

[lena-honey-writes]

my request guidelines

**likely to be updated/changed over time**

blanket statement: i reserve the right to refuse to write a fic if i am uncomfortable with the subject matter or prompt

what i will write:

x reader fics (here’s a list of fandoms/characters i will write for)

NSFW

fics for ships/friendships for already-established characters

what i will NOT write:

anything that specifically attacks or offends a group of marginalized individuals, i.e. poc or the queer community

RPF (real person fiction)

#fanfic requests #fanfic #fanfiction

[lena-honey-writes]

about the author

hello!! my name is lena! i’m a reader and writer of fanfic, and this is where i’ll be posting drabbles and requests sent to me. below are my request guidelines if you’re interested in requesting a fic from me.

‼️please note that some of the content here will be NSFW, so don’t follow me if you’re a minor.‼️

you can find the rest of my shit on @last-honey, or poke around @what-the-daredevil if you want to watch me thirst over matt murdock :) my ao3 is last_honey (i might cross-post some things from here to there).

⭐️guidelines⭐️

⭐️characters & fandoms i write for⭐️

⭐️masterlist⭐️

#info #about the author