daredevilkink | Prompt Post #4

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Prompt Post #4

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No, Claire, we can't have sex today. You ovulated like, yesterday, and abstinence is the only 100% way to do birth control so I'd just rather not risk it okay? okay

Matt gets hit with some kind magic/science/chemicals/whatever that gives everyone around him the desperate need to force themselves on him.

I hope this ends up living up to your expectations!

I've accidentally gave Matt some crazy Mommy issues that I didn't plan on writing when I started

OH! yes, because: these people have seen him vulnerable, and that was probably the worst mistake of his life, to get so vulnerable in front of them - they must've been laughing.

("You know I can hear you from the street," Matt says. In a perfect world, it'd come out of his mouth like a fucking snowstorm: as it is, he can feel his body starting to react to the adrenaline, and in a couple of minutes they'll see the physical reaction.)

Mommy issues, daddy issues, he's got them all! No worries.

oh shit, I did not know I wanted this until right now.

OP - Oh fuck. THIS.

Um. Yes. Yep.

He's angry at them but he's also furious at himself for allowing himself to be in this situation in the first place.

But it's also a ~~little bit like~~ a LOT like heartbreak which. Surprise, Matt. Turns out you've got this tendency to latch onto people who show you the least bit of kindness because you're a lonely mess of a person.

Ok, so I'm kinda new to this meme, so I'm not sure if something like this has been requested before, but anyone else notice the probable age difference between Fisk and Wesley?

I know characters aren't always the same age as the actors who play them (and I hate it when writers make it so they are) but for Daredevil they're obviously close. For example, Matt is somewhere between 29 and his early 30s and Charlie Cox is 32, Fisk is in his 50s and Vincent D'Onofrio is 55, Leland is 73 and Bob Gunton is 69. So how old do you think Wesley is? Toby Moore is 34.

So the point is, Fisk is more than likely old enough to be Wesley's father. So why not make it so, anons? I love Wesley/Fisk and Wesley/Fisk/Vanessa just as much as any other DD fan, but once I really thought about the age difference I wanted something with these two as father and son.

Wesley could be adopted, officially or not, or born from an ex wive/old flame of Fisk's or whatever. I just really want some father son time between Fisk and Wesley.

!!!!!!!!!!!!

“You’re gonna be fine Matty, you’re gonna be fine, everything is gonna be okay,”

With his dad’s voice and his dad’s heartbeat sounding off and rattling around in his eardrums, Matt thinks he gets for the first time why his dad so often lies.

His dad’s hands are on his arms, and his world is black, but he can see so much. He senses everything around him, he doesn’t know where he is but... But it hurts. It really, really hurts.

Vaguely, he remembers the burning in his eyes, before everything went dark. This is worse. This is so much worse.

“You’re okay. Matty, Matty calm down. Hey kid, you’re gonna be fine. You’re in the hospital alright, you-- you gotta stop moving so much. Please Matty, you’re okay, you’re gonna be okay,”

His dad’s heartbeat is like thunder. He wonders if either of them even believe what he’s saying.

He feels the tears wet, wet, wet on his face, and his dad’s callouses rough and hard upon his arms. More than he’s ever felt anything on his skin before. There’s so much more of everything, and yet his world is gone, his dad’s familiar face nowhere to be seen. He’s never felt this much panic, this much of anything, this much fear. He knows he’s crying, he feels it.

This time, he knows his dad’s not gonna end up laughing.

...

St. Agnes is hell and Matt knows it’s because he killed his father.

The Sisters are kind but they cannot always keep him safe. The young blind boy, always confused, always paranoid, jumpy, dorky, small. What can they do?

His mind is in turmoil, his father is dead, and his senses that he had just began to get used to have become impossible to deal with. He can’t tune everything out, he has nothing to focus on. No father, no heartbeat he recognizes. Matt lies in a sea of misery and sound, and touch, and smells, and sound, and sound, and sound...

And he thinks maybe, maybe he understands the letter.

The Sisters are all confused by him. He feels the weight of their stares, their worry, not only for him, but about him. About what’s wrong with him.

What’s wrong with him?

In his dreams he sees flashes of his dad’s familiar features, hears the gunshot pierce through his eardrums with frightening clarity, sees the words of the letter swim behind his closed lids.

‘What we did was a sin against God.’

‘I cannot let my Father know about Matthew.’

‘I have been tarnished...’

‘The Devil inside of you...’

‘Please, consider me dead.’

He sees the split skin of his dad’s face after a fight. Sees the red of his blood before Matt stitched his wounds clean, sees it spilling onto the floor, more and more until it’s all around him. Sees himself in the mirror, his dad’s blood on his hands, his face, and he feels it, and everything goes black.

He wakes up, and when his eyes open, nothing changes.

...

Stick is blind, but he sees potential in Matt. The Devil inside of him suddenly seems like a blessing, rather than a curse. He can get back up, like his dad taught him, he can power through. Make Stick proud. Make someone proud.

He’d disappointed his mother before he even had a chance, he’d disappointed his father, he’d disappointed the nuns at St. Agnes...

Matt gets distracted by the sound of Stick’s feet moving across the cement below them, his next hit catches Matt in the face. There is a resounding crack that echoes through his brain, vibrating again and again. He feels his nose well up with blood, and spits it out when it leaks over his lips and into his mouth. His body begs him to stop, and somewhere inside of him a little boy starts crying.

Tears prick at the corner of his eyes, the wetness shocks him, and he is appalled. No one’s gonna pat him on the head, he probably looks like an idiot, and he can feel Stick’s disappointment in the air, buzzing around his head.

Shut the fuck up Matthew Murdock, he berates himself, do you really wanna do this? Be another disappointment? Do you really wanna be wrong again?

Somewhere inside of him, that little boy stops crying.

Matt tastes the blood on his tongue. When he tries to lash out at Stick, he gets another hit straight to his nose.

...

Maggie, he repeats in his head, as he walks back into St. Agnes. He stumbles through the doorway, disoriented. His pulse is pounding in his head, and he can’t hear anything - except he can hear everything, and that’s the problem isn’t it? His knees are bruised from falling, from finding his way back here from an unfamiliar place, his stomach still sore from Stick’s last lesson. The last one he’ll ever get, Maggie.

The Sisters are confused and concerned, they bustle around him in a rush of noise and sound. What happened? Why are you alone? Did you walk here? Where were you? Are you okay? Matthew? Matthew. Matthew. Matthew.

’I can’t let my Father know about Matthew. Take care of him, as best you can. God help him, and Lord forbid he follow in your footsteps.

Please, consider me dead.

Maggie

He hears a kid snickering from the other side of the room, he smells the dirt on the boy’s clothes and the jam he had for breakfast. He feels the slide of a single drop of blood slowly move down his leg. He feels the nuns hands on his skin, and hears the sound of a woman cursing outside. He smells exhaust and urine and the strange scent of fear, he tastes the salt in the air and his skin feels rough, jagged, sharp. He hears the sound of Stick’s footsteps as they walk out of the room, over and over again until it's all he can hear.

He doesn’t cry.

Maggie, he thinks. A silent mantra, and it calms his frantic thoughts, albeit slightly.

She was lovely, his dad had said. Smart, Matt thinks, so smart. She knew what he was first. She knew he was a sin. She was so kind. Kinder than he deserved.

Abandoning him before he could learn to love her.

...

When Matt dreams the people he’s never seen have faces. He hears Stick behind him and for a moment he wears his father’s face, and the next he hears him leaving, and his face looks back at him, a mix of features he’s seen before. The face changes as Stick walks away, Matt doesn’t recognize any of the features, they don’t even go together right. When he wakes up, he wishes he couldn’t remember what it was like to see. He doesn’t even feel that heartbroken, just resigned. He lays in his bed and remembers that Stick was always meant to leave him. No one would stay, not with him. He asked for too much, he was bad, he was wrong, he got what he deserved.

Maggie, he insists, the familiar name calming his frayed nerves. When he smells the shit of the kid down the hall and another boy’s snoring cuts through his brain like a knife, he thinks her name again, and remembers that she was kind. More than he deserved.

He tries to imagine what she might look like, but all he sees is fire.

Sister Maggie , he thinks of the nuns in their own bedrooms, hears their hearts beating. One, Sister Patricia, walks slowly through the hallways of the building. He hears the sink turn on, and the sound of water against glass, and knows she was thirsty. He wonders if she sees him, sees him for what he is.

Maggie saw it - he does not call her mom, does not dare to - saw his sin. She saw the Devil inside of him. With Stick he thought it could be a for the best, but he should have known better. Should never have forgotten the warning in Maggie’s letter.

Matt goes to Sunday Mass, and he is silent. There are bruises on his arms from where the other boys grabbed him. He can fight back now, he can break them, hurt them, punish them for touching him. Yet he knows that he cannot. He is silent.

The words wash over him like water, cool and clean. He wishes they could cleanse his soul.

What would the Sister’s think, if they knew the Devil sat with them and heard God’s words.

Maybe if he prayed hard enough, to God, to Maggie, maybe they would strike him down. The Devil or the boy, at this point, he didn’t much care which.

A sin, her letter read, a sin against God.

Matt goes to Sunday Mass, and he prays for absolution. There is a feeling behind his eyes that he absently recognizes as sadness. He feels as if he could cry.

Let it out, he admonishes. This makes sense, normal kids cry.

Instead of water on his face there is blood pumping through his heart, twice as fast. He feels his fists clench. He wonders when he forgot how to cry. He wonders when he became so angry.

When Mass is over, Matt stays for hours. He prays, whispering words of praise and confession, but he cannot hear his voice over the sound of his pulse, heavy in his ears.

OP - I... wow. ヾ(o✪‿✪o)ｼ

Um, holy crap anon. This is kind of really amazing. My heart is breaking here. ♡

I have been thinking about this prompt and my first thought was that Matt would be incredible nice to Foggy. Like: coffee with the perfect amount of sugar waiting for him in the office every day and Foggy wondering if Matt can actually tell the exact number of sugar crystals or something.

And then I thought something different:
The last time somebody left Matt was after he showed him how much he cared. All the people he cared about left. So...if he just pretends not to care it must work. Right?

OP

oooh gosh, that's a good question.

my take on it is that matt figured stick left him because matt wasn't "good enough" or failed some kind of test of whatever it was stick wanted him to be. so i could see matt just completely floundering when it comes to foggy, like, desperately trying to be one step ahead and anticipate exactly what foggy wants from him; what conditions need to be met in order for foggy to stay.

because matt's got being alone down to a science. he never bothered making friends at the orphanage or throughout school because what's the point when you're never going to see these people ever again? so he already has deviated from the norm just by taking the chance to create a long-term friendship with foggy, and then branching out by trying to be friends with karen and claire, to varying degrees of success (claire left too).

so... yeah. he's in completely unknown territory with foggy now, and i can see him trying to make sure foggy doesn't get angry again. because foggy + anger at matt = abandonment.

/feels

oh my god they are the biggest dorks who ever lived <3

It isn't anybody's business but her own.

Still, Claire wonders if she should've told him, after. And if so, how?

She's a smart woman, a woman who isn't afraid of pleasure and knows how to safely enjoy the things that she wants. She's a nurse, for crying out loud; she knows better than most what can happen when people aren't safe, when they're not given the information to know their own bodies. Kids aren't anywhere on her long-term plans, but she has to admit that when she looked down at that very distinctive double pink line, her racing heart wasn't just from fear.

There was hope, there, too. A tiny little flicker of a flame, the kind of foolish hope that children have when they're told fairy tales, when they're still young enough, innocent enough to believe them.

And then on beyond then, when they are old enough to know, but still cling to the might-have-beens that give them wonder and joy.

Pregnant.

Shit.

Kids aren't anywhere on her long-term plans, and even if they were, Matt's definitely not the one she wants to have them with. Except--here it is. The truth of it, the foolish hope. And then, moments later, the cold, harsh clarity of what she knows is the right thing to do.

Her life is busy enough as it is without her late-night calls to come suture up a masked vigilante. And when she and Matt did what both of them had wanted to do, she hadn't had any regrets about it. Claire wasn't foolish enough to harbor any illusions about whether or not he'd give up his... career sounds too legitimate of a word. Hobby sounds too frivolous, like he's out late at night, yarn-bombing the bike racks. He's not going to give it up because he doesn't want to. She knows she cannot ask him, cannot force him, wouldn't want to do it even if she could. A younger Claire, maybe, would've gone down that bitter road. A younger Claire has known and seen the effects of wishing and hoping.

People don't change.

And, in the end, the choice is easy enough to make.

It's a relief, when it happens. Even the pain of it, the cramps and the aftermath. She's early enough that it's easier to think of it this way. She takes some Tylenol, and asks for a few days off at work. Thankfully, she doesn't need to give an explanation. It's her choice, and ultimately she's so, so grateful to even have the choice, the privacy, the freedom to do what she knows, in her heart, is the right thing to do. She's seen the women who come in to the ER with various gynecological complaints, and she's seen the fear on their faces, the desperate hope that they won't tell the husband, the boyfriend, their father... No, Claire thinks: This is my choice.

Later, much later, after she's broken things off with Matt, she's stitching him up from a particularly bad looking fight. It's dark in his apartment--it's always dark in there, but she points a lamp down at her work and tells him again that he needs to get some kind of body armor. He's quiet tonight, subdued, probably from blood loss. She always wonders how he can take so much pain, not just the physical but the weight of the burden he carries.

Then he turns his head and she swears he can see her, see right through her.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

She feels a chill go down her spine and she knows that there's no use pretending she doesn't understand his question. Absentmindedly, her hands spread out slightly, on the bedspread, on his skin. Matt feels warm to the touch; she wishes she could tell if his heart, too, is racing. Slowly, she looks down, licks her dry lips, and tries to form an answer.

"I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to know."

Matt clenches his jaw, making the muscles in his throat, his neck work. Claire's really not in the mood for a lecture tonight, or any kind of moralizing, or persuading--although she knows that his beliefs are dear to his heart. This was a possibility that they'd never discussed. 'Which is why,' she thinks wryly, 'I made the choice I made. There's so much unknown, so much left unsaid.'

"Can I ask..." His voice sounds raw, full of restrained emotion. "Can I ask what happened?"

"I'm not pregnant anymore, Matt." She says, feeling weary, older than her years, suddenly. "There isn't really anything more to say than that."

He lays back against the bedspread, eyes fixed on nothing, and Claire wonders if she still sees the world in flames, in a moment like this. At length, he shifts again.

"I'm sorry."

Claire blinks. "For what?"

"For everything." He sighs. "For the way I... treated you. Treat you, still. And I know it wasn't my right to know... anything about you, even that--"

"Matt--"

"I never wanted to take advantage of you."

He turns his sightless gaze back to her face, watching her mouth, listening, waiting for her reply.

Claire doesn't know how to respond to that. Instead, she wets one of the sterile gauze pads from the stack and begins to clean up the dried blood on his skin as gently as she can. If it hurts, he doesn't react.

"If I didn't want to be here, I wouldn't have answered the phone."

"I know that." He smiles softly at her. Then the smile fades. "Whatever happened, Claire... I'm sorry if you had to... be alone."

"Would you have come?"

The question comes out more bluntly than she intends, and she can see that it shocks him. She realizes, then, that he doesn't know how it happened. Or maybe he just doesn't want to ask. Both of them find comfort, she knows, in their little self-deceptions. They play at being more than they are, but at the end of the day, he's a man, laying pale and cooling in the night air, his body pushed beyond the limit. God, she thinks, he looks so thin now. Claire wonders if this is nothing more than slow suicide, penance for some unnamed sins she hears hidden in his voice.

When he speaks, his answer shocks her.

"Yes." He says, calmly but firmly. "Yes, I would've come."

It's only later, when she's cleaning up the wrappers and replenishing her supply bag back at her apartment, that she realizes it's the closest thing to 'I love you' he's ever said.

Ayrt
That makes a lot of sense. And now I am thinking of a combination of what you said and what I said: first Matt being super attentive and Foggy enjoying it because who wouldn't want a friend who is bringing you your favourite bagles before you even realise you're hungry plus he figures it's Matt's way of apologising and he thinks he does deserve an apology.
Only he keeps doing that long after Foggy has forgiven him plus it gets increasingly creepy because there is stuff Matt can only figure out by monitoring Foggy constantly so he asks him to stop and perhaps he gets a bit loud because 'Matt you can't listen to my everything all the time, that's just wrong'.
Cue Matt: shit I fucked up. He hates that I care and now he's angry. Perhaps he'll stay if I can convince him that I don't care.
Cue Foggy: WTF is going on now?

Now I made myself sad. And I wish I had time to actually write this.

This is heartbreaking and awful and perfect.

ooooh

OP

I'm sure this isn't what you want to hear but I could honestly kiss you. Seriously, there are big horny hearts in my eyes. This is so exactly what I was looking for, thank you soooo much. Can't wait for the last bit cccccccc:

..... Holy cow, if all of this is just fic notes/brainstorming I can't wait to read the actual story, anon. O_O

You're really good.

This. Really stuck out to me on the show, actually. Everyone's drinking an awful lot. Just watch how many bottles of hard alcohol disappear in each of the major characters in the relatively short time span of season 1 and tell me that's healthy. Jesus.

"and Matt either laughing so hard he falls out of his chair or being really concerned too or both"

Both. Definitely both XD

This!

But can you imagine. James Wesley:covered in motherfucking bees. Ben Urich: always has a few bees following him like little bodyguards. Fisk gets stung in the eyeball. Ben is saved.
Idk what you're talking about this is an amazing superpower.

Stop it fucking stop it it fucking hurts~!

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Page 24 of 209

Prompt Post #4

Re: Matt invades the privacy of more unsuspecting women

Matt/multiple, reverse sex pollen, dubcon/noncon

Re: FILL: For a Brief Moment (1/?)

Re: Fisk/Matt/Vanessa - Mistaken betrayal

Re: FILL: For a Brief Moment (1/?)

Re: Matt/multiple, reverse sex pollen, dubcon/noncon

Re: Fisk/Matt/Vanessa - Mistaken betrayal

Father Fisk

Re: fantasy!AU

FILL: For a Brief Moment (2/?)

Re: FILL: For a Brief Moment (2/?)

Re: Matt's abandonment issues

Re: Matt's abandonment issues

Re: [FILL] [gen] the French mistake [repost] [3/3]

FILL: inspired by the dark heart prompts above

Re: Matt's abandonment issues

Re: FILL: inspired by the dark heart prompts above

Re: Gen, Dark!Matt

Re: Matt/foggy, masturbation as punishment 2 (2/3)

Re: Fisk/Matt/Vanessa - Mistaken betrayal THOUGHTS?

Re: Avocados Anonymous (tw alcoholism)

Re: Foggy (Gen) - Hurt!Foggy

Re: Matt is kidnapped, but a Marvel team-up comes to get him out

Re: Gen: Karen has a superpower

Re: FILL: For a Brief Moment (2/?)