daredevilkink | Prompt Post #4

Entry tags:

prompt post

Prompt Post #4

THIS POST IS CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS.
HEAD OVER TO PROMPT POST #5.

Keep filling prompts on this post! Make sure to link any new fic on the complete or work in progress fills posts so it doesn't get missed.

Please read the current rules before commenting on this post.

Leave a prompt. Fill a prompt. Everyone wins!
Previous Rounds: Prompt Post #1 | Prompt Post #2 | Prompt Post #3

Mod Post | Discussion/Off-Topic Post | AO3 Collection | Searchable Prompts on Delicious
Fills: Completed & WIPs

Rules:
General
YKINMKATO. Play nice. If you don't like something, scroll on.

All comments must be anon.

Subject lines should only be changed if you're posting a prompt or a fill (indicators like OP or Author!Anon should go in the body of the comment).

RPF is allowed. Crossovers, characters from the extended Marvel Universe and comics canon are allowed, but must relate to the 2015 TV show in some way.

Discussion not related to the prompt should be moved to the discussion/off-topic post.

Drop a comment on the mod post if you have any questions or problems.

Prompts
All types of prompts are welcome.

Use the subject line for the main idea of your prompt (pairing or characters, keywords, kink).

Warnings are nice, but not necessary. Get DW Blocker if there's anything you really don't want to see.

Reposted prompts are allowed once one round has passed - i.e., prompts from post #2 cannot be reposted until post #4. Please include a link to where it has been previously posted.

Fills
Put [FILL] or something similar in the subject line when posting a fill.

Long fills can either be posted over multiple comments, or posted on AO3 and linked back here.

Multiple fills are always okay.

Fills can be anything! Fic, art, vids, interpretative dance...

Announce your fill on either the Completed Fills Post or the WIP Post.

If you would like to be politely banned to avoid anon-failing, leave a logged-in comment on the mod post or pm the mod account.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

After three months, Foggy was done. It had been fun, this random-encounters/strangers-with-benefits thing they had going on, but Foggy was a romantic at heart, and he just couldn’t sustain emotionless sex for this long.

More importantly, Matt had been pulling away from him lately and getting injured more, and Foggy suspected that he’d been so distracted with the Devil that he’d missed when it began.

Given that Foggy was more than a little bit twitterpated over - someone (fine, over Matt), this realization hit him like an alien invasion. Jesus, really? After years of sharing space and taking care of each other, together through girlfriends and breakups and bar exams, Matt was falling out of bed and running into doors and getting bumped by cars and Foggy’d missed when it began?

(Not to mention Matt was losing weight and getting pale and smiling strained and no, no, that would not do.)

It was a shame. The sex had been great, and the spontaneity fun in a way he hadn’t had since Columbia. But Matt still came first - Matt would always come first - so the Devil had to go.

“You want to stop?”

Foggy nodded, palms pressed against the Devil’s chest to keep him at bay. Because the Devil was (ironically) a gentleman, he didn’t even need to push; the gesture was enough.

“Sorry, but yes. I just - I can’t keep doing this. It’s not honest.”

The Devil tilted his head, searching him for something. Did he have x-ray vision? Was that why the mask had no eye holes? Huh. These superheroes were so weird. “You want honesty. A relationship?”

Jesus fuck, no. Nope. Foggy hadn’t even considered that the Devil might go that route. “No. Well, yes, but - not with you. It’s nothing personal,” he added quickly, smiling apologetically. “You’ve been great, I’ve got no complaints. It’s just. I’m kind of. It’s not… reciprocated, but. I…”

“Like someone,” the Devil finished.

Foggy swallowed. “Love someone,” he corrected softly.

Sucking in a sharp breath, the Devil let his hands drop from Foggy’s waist and took a step back. “And it’s not reciprocated? Why?” he demanded, voice carrying the sort of simmering threat that usually preceded someone getting their ass handed to them.

In spite of himself, Foggy grinned. It was nice to see someone be protective of him, even though their interactions had always been purely physical. “Maybe because he’s too blind to see what’s in front of him,” he joked, then paused a beat.

Matt would have laughed, at the joke if not the subject.

The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen tensed up further, clearly not liking the response.

Foggy sighed. “It’s an old joke, sorry. He’s literally blind. And I know it’s not PC, but that’s just the kind of friendship we have.”

“And you -” The Devil paused, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “Love him?”

Foggy nodded again. “He’s just… one of those guys, you know? Who gets in deep. He’s been under my skin since the day we met, but being friends all these years, I don’t know. He’s in my blood, my lungs, probably tucked into my squishy left ventricle. One of these days, I’m going to get killed and autopsied, and they’re going to find ‘Matt Murdock’ carved into my bones.”

The Devil was starting to smile now, and not for the first time, Foggy silently cursed the lack of lighting in their current dilapidated building of choice. (He loved Matt, all right, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t curious; this guy had a wickedly dangerous, feral smirk, and Foggy was willing to bet that he had a gorgeous smile, too.)

“Matt Murdock, huh,” he repeated huskily, and wait, that was his turned on voice, what the actual fuck? “Should you have told me that?”

“I stopped being under the illusion that you didn’t know my identity when I dropped my wallet after our sixth meeting and came home to find it on my kitchen counter,” Foggy drawled. “At least it wasn’t a dead mouse on the porch.”

“Says the guy talking about his buddy being embedded in his organs and bones,” the Devil replied.

He maybe had a point.

“So, Matt?” the Devil prompted, moving to drop down in a particularly shadowy corner of the room. Because he was creepy like that.

“What about him?” Foggy asked wearily, sinking down where he stood. And what did it say about him and his life that the first time he admitted his feelings for Matt out loud, it was to the crazy ninja vigilante he’d been sort-of boning for the last few months in a half-smashed building that had been taken out by actual space aliens like a year before?

At least he could breathe easier now with some space between them. He’d been determined to go through with this, but the Devil was still temptation, still a tantalizing flame, and Foggy was maybe a little bit of a pyro at heart.

The Devil shrugged. “I’m curious. You’re ditching our non-relationship because your allegedly unrequited feelings for him are interfering with casual sex, so I want to know what the big deal is. So sue me.”

“Dangerous thing to say to an attorney,” Foggy drawled, but he answered anyway. He couldn’t not. He’d always talked about Matt too much anyway, and finally being able to verbally vomit even a fraction of his real thoughts on the guy? Yeah. His resistance was nil.

“He’s just… he’s so good, you know? Morally upright in a way I can only dream of being. We worked for this… company before, right, a law firm. It wasn’t good, I knew that - they were the sort of folks who give lawyers a bad name. But it was money, and it was stable, even if it was grunt work. But Matt knew we’d be selling our souls if we stayed in that place, so he left. And I tease him about being a handsome duck all the time, but I was the one who followed after like I’d imprinted on him.”

“You wouldn’t have left if not for him?” the Devil asked.

Foggy shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. Probably eventually. But I might’ve stayed long enough to lose part of myself.”

“No regrets, then?”

“None.”

The Devil nodded. “Okay. What else?”

“Dude, you really want to hear me pour my heart out over him?” Foggy laughed uncomfortably. “I don’t think we’ve spoken this much in the last three months combined.”

“Yes, and I’m beginning to think that was a shame,” the Devil replied in a strangely wistful voice that sent alarm bells ringing through Foggy’s brain. “Ah, well. My loss. Go on.”

Foggy eyed his shadowed form warily, feeling some sort of niggling sense of familiarity, but continued anyway. “I don’t even know what to say. He’s my best friend, you know? We lived out of each other’s pockets for ages. He’s stoic as shit sometimes - the sort of guy who’s always thinking too much and saying too little, and he doesn’t always treat himself right - but he’s loyal as all get out, damn smart, has a sense of humour that makes me think we were born to banter with each other. He’s just. He’s mine. Imprinted, right? I’d know him anywhere.”

The Devil made a sound somewhere between a snort and a choke before his mouth twisted into something close to a grimace. “Sorry. Dust, bugs, something.” He waved a hand vaguely. “Anywhere?”

“I’d hope so,” Foggy chuckled. “Share your life with someone long enough, and you’re bound to pick up a lot of their tells, right?”

“You just said he was ‘stoic as shit’,” the Devil pointed out.

“I also didn’t say ‘all’ of their tells,” Foggy shot back.

The Devil raised his hands up in surrender. “Objection sustained, counsel. Please proceed.”

Foggy smiled despite himself, because maybe he was still 22 and holding his acceptance letter to Columbia at heart, but the lawyer jokes never got old. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not under any delusions. He’s not a perfect saint. He’s a commitment-phobic asshole, loves showing me up, carries more guilt and self-denial than an ascetic monk, and has a temper. He’s too smart for his own damn good, too good for his own damn good, and he’s kind of a mess, even if nobody will believe me because he’s a charming snake.”

The Devil’s posture radiated discomfort, however he managed that. Weird. At least he wasn’t using the sexy voice anymore, so Foggy didn’t have to worry about the Devil scheming to steal his man.

His… not man. Well, a man, but not his man. His friend. His Matt.

“Hey,” Foggy murmured. The Devil didn’t respond. Frowning, Foggy picked up a small piece of plaster and chucked it at him. “Hey, come on, stop sulking. It’s not like you were invested in me, right?”

The Devil laughed, short and sharp. “No, Fo—Foggy,” he finished haltingly. It was the first time he’d ever said Foggy’s name, and it sounded strange and rasping in that guttural voice. Then again, he wasn’t supposed to know his name, so Foggy could understand the silence, if not the breach of their conditions.

Just another reason it was never going to work.

“Not like this,” he continued. “I knew this wasn’t going to go anywhere from the beginning.”

His wording worried Foggy. “Did you… want it to?”

The Devil shrugged, the motion stiff before he forced his shoulders to relax. “Maybe a little. You’re kind. Nonjudgmental. Fun. But that’s why I knew it wasn’t going to happen, so I didn’t hold out hope. The kind of life I have isn’t for you.”

Feeling a little choked up, Foggy cleared his throat. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” he replied sincerely, knowing it probably didn’t help. “And I’d love to keep meeting up, just… not. You know. Just as friends.”

“Friends?” the Devil repeated, sounding almost amused… but also hurt. It was bittersweet.

“Yeah, friends. You sound -” Was this going too far? Oh, fuck it. They’d been going too far since they met. “- lonely.”

The Devil ducked his head again, although Foggy thought he caught a glimpse of a smile just before he did. It was a little too adorable - and a little too far removed from his usual image of the masked man - for his sanity, so he didn’t dwell on it. “I’m not, really. This running around, beating up criminals thing isn’t all I do,” he replied. “I’m sort of… completely in love with someone, too. Who also may or may not be my best friend. And no, I’m not going to tell you anything more,” he added quickly.

Foggy shut his mouth with a frown. “That is not fair.”

The Devil shrugged. “Life’s not fair. You find equilibrium where you can.” He stood abruptly. “Gotta go. Break in on fifth. Good luck with your guy.”

“Thanks. Good luck with -”

The Devil was gone before he could finish.

“- … yours, too.”

somebody comes to Nelson and Murdock for legal aid and asks "Have you know what it is to be an orphan?"

and matt replies "Often."

(i'm G&S trash, i can't hide it)

Matt wanted to be the man who didn't feel it, when Foggy said things like that. It was shameful, to -

“I'm not gonna do that,” he said.

“So leave,” Foggy said. “You think I don't want to touch you? C'mon, dude, you're the hottest guy I know, I always want to get my hands on you, you know how dumb it is that I can't fuck you right now just because you're bruised up.” He sighed. “Is that fair, buddy?”

Matt just...wrapped his hand around his dick. It didn't do enough for him, by himself, and even now, he felt embarrassed, prickly and awkward. Was he – facing the right direction? Should he – he shifted, trying to orient himself to Foggy's voice, to put on a show – because that's what Foggy wanted, right? And felt big hands on his shoulders, firm.

“You're good just like that,” Foggy said, and pulled away; Matt could hear him, three or feet away, to Matt's left: he wasn't touching himself, but he was still. Interested. “Hey, bud, I asked you a question.”

Matt didn't want to say anything, and he didn't want to touch himself, and the nasty curl of heat that sparked through him when he said “no,” and slid his hand tight along his cock, that – that made it hard to breathe. He was pretty sure it was a trick, even though he couldn't see how, yet.

“You're right, it's not fair,” Foggy mused, idly. “Hey, lemme – don't want you chafing, huh? Gimme your hand -” and the amount of lube he poured into Matt's palm was too much. It was warm, and slick, and slippery. It sparked every nerve in a long straight shot of feeling up his spine; he felt his hair prickling. He made some kind of noise.

“Too much,” he said, “I didn't need -” because it was dripping, his cock felt so wet and sensitive it was hard not to curl over himself, to keep holding himself upright and open. So Foggy could see.

“I know,” Foggy said, and there might not be enough friction from his hand, anymore, to make his own strokes more than a tease, but there was something just a little mean in Foggy's voice. “Hey, slow down, we've got time – I know, bud, you think you never need lube or sleep or food, you got no problem trying to get me to fuck you when you're beat to shit, right?”

“That's – not -”

“Slower,” Foggy said, and Matt forced his hand slower; it felt almost like Foggy was touching him, achingly slow drags along his cock, it – he couldn't pretend that Foggy was actually touching him, it was his hand, but – he meant to say “no” and it turned into a whine when he opened his mouth.

“Look at you,” Foggy said.

“Ha ha,” Matt said, or meant to say: his voice broke, embarrassingly, in the middle. He didn't - want to talk about this, he didn't want to like this; he always loved it when he had Foggy's full attention, but he wanted to be sucking his dick or getting fucked, not – not put on display like this.

“Nah,” Foggy said. “Beat to shit, jeez, you were really gonna let me fuck you when you've gotta be pissing blood, yet, that's – that's just great, Matt.” He paused; Matt heard the skin of his hand moving over his cock.

“No, I want to -”

“Nope,” Foggy said. “You're one of the most beautiful guys I know, right?” Matt's breath caught in his throat; his hips stuttered against his hand. “No, don't speed up, pay attention - yeah, there you go. You're so gorgeous when you're working so hard to listen to me, buddy.”

“Don't,” Matt said, helplessly; he felt embarrassed and that shouldn't make it better. He wasn't – he had a good body, he knew that, he was aware, but it felt indescribably dirty to kneel and listen to Foggy tell him he was. “Foggy, I -”

“You don't want to hear what you look like? I mean.” Foggy had lost the hard edge; he sounded a little lost, a little thoughtful: “I could look at you like this for days, man.”

That was the thing that sent him right up to the edge, surprisingly. Because. Because Foggy had sounded like Matt was valuable, and that hit him straight in the balls. What a stupid thing – he bit the side of his cheek, hard, trying to – trying to make it last, he wasn't going to -

“No,” Foggy said, sharply, “do not hurt yourself, you bit your cheek? Talk to me.”

“Oh,” Matt said, because it was too late, it hit him hard, all the wet slippery pressure, sound of Foggy's voice, the concern in it, he couldn't hold on any longer, he shook himself apart in his own fist. Fell forward, onto his knees.

After the orgasm was when he really started fucking shivering, that made absolutely no sense, but his whole skin felt unsettled, twitching like a horse in a swarm of flies, there was no reason for it to feel like this. He didn't know why or what to do, so he said “Foggy,” because that was all he could think of, and then Foggy was on the bed with him, the strong familiar smell of him, the big warm hands petting down his back and along his arms. “Oh,” he said, dumbly; it hadn't even been sex, practically, just him jerking it like a selfish asshole, but he felt more drained than he had in about a week. Sleepy, though, and he rarely felt sleepy; it was warm and easy to breathe, in this room, curled up next to Foggy and getting petted.

“y're still -” he said, and surprised himself by breaking into a really enormous yawn. “i can.”

“Nope,” Foggy said; he sounded amused, and tender. “Not your problem right now, Murdock, you nap.”

It was the sort of coddling that Matt would've objected to, if he hadn't felt so honestly, ridiculously good.

There's a story where Foggy has prosopagnosia, But Matt knows about that in college and there's no big reveal which is what I think you're mostly looking for? Might be worth you checking out though. http://archiveofourown.org/works/4046500

omg, this is amazing. I love how they're both in love with each other and telling, but not really telling, each other and omg, DD's reaction *flails madly*

SPOILERS FOR DD #16

Well basically, Matt's life has been difficult lately and he had to team up with the Owl's daughter to fight a baddie. But now the baddie has released videos of Matt in private situations - talking to Foggy, to his girlfriend Kirsten, planning to team up with Jubula - that the baddie obtained by hacking every camera (a laptop one, a smartphone one, anything) in San Fran.

So Matt went to Fisk and offered to give himself up - to 'kill' Matt Murdock, have a plastic surgery and adopt a new name - if Fisk kills that story to keep Foggy and Kirsten safe. They talk about the deal in Fisk's Creepy Art Room which houses Fisk's collection of paintings portraying 1001 Ways in Which I Want Daredevil to Die.

Fisk is then seen talking over the phone with someone, laughing off Matt's deal - which he expected - while an assassin is seen strangling Kirsten and Foggy lies on the floor in a pool of blood.

Add to that the fact that just this issue Foggy mentions waiting for a call from his oncologist to find out how much long does he have.

So yeah. This all happened in one issue. Gold medal in the Let's Make Matt Murdock Suffer Olympics.

Sure thing! I will be over here, making grabby hands. And kitten eyes. And dinosaur noises, if it gets us a fill.

He's not entirely sure what happened, at first- he and the masked idiot had been locked together, his forearms around the other man's neck, squeezing, when the world erupted around them in heat and chaos. Fisk fell as the floor gave way beneath them, a strangled grunt escaping his throat as he was buffeted by debris, and then- nothing.

He came back to himself on waves, his brain rebooting itself slowly, and the first thing he noticed was the immense pressure. He was laying on his front, half draped over something relatively soft compared to the chunks of brick, glass, and metal around and on him. His left arm was pinned beneath the soft thing; his right, somewhere beneath his own body, but he wasn't quite sure where- it had gone numb. His legs, he found, he could move slightly, but every time he shifted, so did the debris around him.

His cell phone was in the pocket of his slacks- if he could wedge his left arm out, he'd be able to call for help. He flexed his hand, gauging how much he could move it, when something groaned, strangely close by, and he abruptly realized- the soft thing he was laying on top of was the Mask. He froze, and now that he was concentrating, he heard the other man's rasping breaths cutting through the silence.

Well. If he was going to die here, at least he'd take this little problem with him.

Fisk's left hand was almost free by the time the other man finally woke up. His breathing picked up and he began to shift himself, but his movements were awkward, jerking. "Wha-," the man slurred, sounding almost drunk. "Who's there?"

(can't-write-crack!anon)

EEEEEeeeeeeEEEEEE!

I can't speak for the OP, but I loved it! :D Believable setup of a friendly-strangers-with-benefits situation, and I adore that the final straw for Foggy that he realizes his preoccupation with his vigilante fling is making him miss important goings-on with Matt. Awwww. <3 Also loved the hints of Matt that show through to the audience, if not to Foggy.

And Foggy as a trouble magnet and DD as a protective stalker are two concepts that are near and dear to my fannish heart. So yes. LOVE. <3

There is more coming I hope yes? :D

yaaaaaaaaaaaas i've been checking on this one periodically for an update and i'm so happy you did finish this and it was so worth the wait i'm sitting in front of my laptop hissing my contentment.

Oh yesssss

"People know where I am," Matt had said, to start with, because he was already in a shitty position and wanted to avoid as much of the (inevitable, awful) posturing that was bound to happen. (And because - honestly, although he hated to admit it - Fisk scared him, a little, and it was hard to be scared and anxious without hitting someone.)

"Yes," Fisk had said, carefully. "I imagine they do." And then, because Matt hadn't been quite sure how to - where to go from there: "I never expected to see...Murdock, here."

"Yes," Matt said. "I didn't - Reinhart is a problem."

"Our city is infested with costumed do-gooders," Fisk said. His heartbeat had picked up, in anticipation. "One or another of them will dispose of him eventually, I'm sure."

"No," Matt said. His fingers felt a little numb. It was humiliating, to say - but Spiderman had said I think he knows who my family are, and I gotta go, and Spiderman was the youngest one Matt had ever met. He needed to be protected, and - and Matt would've stepped up, but. There was something in the way that Spiderman had said my family that had made him pause, wonder exactly what Reinhart knew. He couldn't bring yet more trouble into Foggy's life. Karen's. "They won't. They...can't."

Fisk didn't move, for a minute.

“I understand him to be a crude man,” he said. Yes, Matt thought; you like to think you're not crude, don't you. Just a murderer. (He didn't like to be this close to Fisk, knowing what he was capable of; the potential for violence hummed between them, even here, in a very quiet office building, six stories up. There weren't enough exits in the room. Matt was pretty sure it was at least 20% on purpose.)

“I'm afraid he's not a priority,” Fisk said, fuck's sake, they really had to do this? Matt wanted to scream, a little; he knotted the fingers of one hand around a scrap of his pants leg.

Fisk sighed, and said “your time is valuable, of course, but it can be bought." Literally true, and exactly the kind of thing that made Matt want to punch him in the face ninety percent of the time. “Daredevil's time, however.”

He swallowed. There was no helping it; he'd assumed that Fisk would have figured it out by now, but to hear it put so baldly still send his heart racing. The chance that this meeting would end well for him had never been good. The elevators were slow. He wasn't sure if there was a stairwell in the building, nor how it might be accessed. He should've demanded a more public meeting; it had been shame that led him to letting Fisk set a private meeting, and now he was - “I won't kill for you,” he said. Fuck. He hadn't meant to -

“Of course not,” he said, and he sounded surprised and confused. “It's not in your skillset; why would I ask a specialist such as yourself to – engage in work you have no experience in?”

It shouldn't have been quite this fucking irritating to be told that you'd make a terrible killer.

“My fiance,” Fisk said, “finds herself alone for two or three nights: I have...business, and she's reluctant to accompany me. I'd like to know she was watched by one of the best in the business.”

"Not Daredevil," Matt said, flatly. "Not - I'll watch her, but I won't. Show my face."

"I have a better reputation than Daredevil, in this city," Fisk said, sounding amused; "have it your way; she stays safe, while I'm gone, and you won't have to worry about Reinhart."

**

Vanessa couldn't help but laugh, when he told her, that night. “But why me?” she asked.

“I'll be sure to have three nights with no interference,” Wilson said. She was brushing her hair. "I've scheduled half a dozen shipments, now that I know for a fact where he'll be, those nights."

“You could have framed him,” she said, thoughtfully, eyes shut. “It would be easy; he's making it easy for you.”

“Yes,” Wilson said. He sounded uncomfortable, but his hands were light and deft. “I...he is an honorable man.”

“And you're a romantic one,” she said, and smiled.

“It's not such a difficult request. Reinhart is an animal,” he said. “And – he's not the first man, to come to me with a problem, and realize that we could begin a beneficial...working relationship.”

“Ah,” Vanessa said. “Should I be charming, darling?” She caught his hand. “It's not that hard; he's a beautiful man.”

Wilson flinched, and hoped she hadn't seen him flinch.

"Oh no," she said, soft, sincere: "you," and she went on tiptoe, kissed him with her bare mouth, free of lipstick; it was the way he liked her best. "You are the best thing, my darling."

"I am not," he said, hating himself but uncertain enough to - "I am not. Conventionally."

"You delight me in every way," she said, and she pulled him down to look him straight in the eye: "your body, with my body, that's my dream." She smiled, sudden and bright, and said "carry me to bed, Wilson, and let me prove it to you."

**

The problem with his life was that every time he wrestled one problem to the ground, another took its place. Like the whack-a-mole game, he remembered that, from when he was young. So Reinhart was handled, excellent, but this made the second night that he'd gotten no more than three or four hours of sleep, all told.

He'd gotten to the point where he'd started to feel a little dizzy, occasionally, just from lack of sleep. It was good that they'd set a time on it; Fisk would be back from whatever he'd been doing (probably killing people) the next day, so all Matt had to do was hold on and handle the situation.

"I hope I don't offend," she said, "but you're not a very good liar, you know."

Matt refocused on her (he'd been listening hard, for sirens: you didn't hear them in this part of the city) and suppressed the urge to back up. He was almost sure she was looking at him. "No," he agreed.

"Is it because you're blind?" she asked, and that was - not what he'd expected. He laughed because he was nervous; he laughed because he knew she was watching him, and he didn't want her to think that she'd found a weak point.

“Probably,” he said. “I hope that doesn't bother you.”

“No,” she said, thoughtfully.

**

He'd been lucky to make it a whole night, guarding Vanessa Fisk, without incident; the second night was when someone carrying stars and darts - like Nobu, fuck's sake - broke into the penthouse. It took Matt a shockingly painful ten minutes to get him to the ground, and when he'd gotten the man on the ground, he realized that he'd missed the three-inch knife.

Mostly because that's when the - ninja? - stabbed him in the thigh.

Matt yelled in pain, grunted, got a hand around the ninja's throat and slammed his elbow into the man's temple, and thank all the saints that was enough to knock him unconscious.

He really hated the smell of his own blood.

“Oh!” Vanessa Fisk said, surprised, worried, “you're bleeding!”

Matt gritted his teeth and tried to come up with an excuse that would explain the wet patch over his pants. i peed myself, no, also it's his blood, probably not believable, it's just water, maybe. "It's just water," he said. "I knocked him into the - uh." Fuck, his thigh hurt, and he wasn't sure that he'd be able to walk to the bathroom without limping. If he could get half a second to himself, he could wrap the leg up tight, it'd be fine until the end of the night, then he could - he could slink off to his apartment.

"You cannot possibly expect me to believe that lie," she said.

"I. uh. Hoped," he said. He felt a little dizzy; his nose was wet with blood.

“All right,” Vanessa said. “Sit down for a minute, sit here, just -"

He let her push him into a chair. It was just uncomfortable enough to sooth him. He wasn't going to - to sleep, that would be ridiculous, especially since Vanessa Fisk was still in the building, but he was going to - to lean his head back against the wall, just for a moment.

**

He woke up to the sound of the door opening, and Fisk coming in – early, what the hell, what was – oh, he was an idiot, it was stupid to think it could've been that simple and stress-free, and now they were going to spring the trap on him. Karen had been right. He should always listen to Karen. At least he'd face them on his feet; he didn't think about it when he jumped up, so he pulled wrong and felt the skin tear, the half-coagulated blood start oozing from the wound again. Putting a hand on it would show weakness, so he didn't.

“He fell asleep,” he heard Vanessa say, but it was overshadowed, swamped by pain.

“Get off me,” he said, low, warning. He wanted Fisk to stay away, this was the worst time it would happen.

“You can fall on the floor if you please,” Fisk said. Matt wanted to hit him some more.

"It's a scratch," he said.

"You're bleeding all over the floor," Vanessa Fisk said.

Safety call recogniser anon here. I haven't thought about safety calls in a while, but when I used to live with a dear darling very kinky friend we had a sort of standing arrangement. If she was visiting a new 'friend' that she wasn't sure of yet and hadn't called by 8pm, I should call her. If there was no response something untoward had happened (or her new friend wasn't letting her use a safety measure she had mentioned to them, which is also untoward) and I should call the police or her Dad.

Luckily, I never did have to call her Dad and say 'Hello Mr L, your daughter is having painful things put inside her for recreational purposes but it's gone wrong, can you please go to this address?', but now I think of it the whole safety call concept is a fic goldmine.

HELLO UM I AM HERE FOR THIS

THIS THING

NRGHSHGKDSL

I think if I'm going to do this, I'm going to go hidden disability because the race thing wouldn't matter to Matt and if Foggy is gay or bi or whatever it should have been pretty damn obvious from that first time they met. But now I'm not sure what is that Foggy is hiding... ideas anyone?

I feel like Steve Rogers might not agree to this, but he's the only one I can think of.

Matt is pinned and can maybe only move his arms and he's trying to gouge at Fisk's eyes or punch him in the throat or nose - anything to get him away (get away get away get away!) - but Fisk just holds him down by the wrists by one hand and takes cruel satisfaction in watching him struggle for a moment, before ripping the mask of his face.

There was a fic where Foggy had a prosthetic. It would have to be something Matt would have a hard time sensing.

Ahhhhhhhh this is AMAZING. Can't wait for the last part!

Fisk stopped moving. It was too dark to see the other man, but he could feel him moving his head from side to side, hear him inhaling through his mouth, coughing on the dust. "Fo-Foggy?" the man muttered, angling himself closer- closer?- to Fisk, putting his forehead to Fisk's chest. "I can't move my arms."

"No," Fisk grunted, wishing he could move away; something wet was seeping onto his shirt where the Mask's head was making contact. Pleasing as it was to know that the other man was wounded, he would have preferred not to be so close. "I expect not," Fisk said, after a moment. "There was a bomb. We're trapped under the building."

The other man failed to react, and Fisk wondered if he'd passed out again. Fisk finally yanked his hand out from under the Mask, shaking away the numbness, and paused as he considered where to go from there. His arm had been draped over the Mask's chest and beneath his torso in a mock embrace; now, with the other man curled up against him, there was no place to rest it without making contact again. He sighed, then reached up and felt around until he found the back of the man's head. The fabric of the mask was tacky with dried and drying blood, and he yanked it away in one smooth movement. The other man didn't even flinch.

"You have a concussion," Fisk guessed, throwing the mask away. He returned his hand to the other man's head, encountering short hair matted with blood. Still, there was no response, and Fisk huffed in frustration, grabbing the other man's shoulder and shaking, hard. "Are you still awake?"

"They're coming," the Mask murmered. "Sirens. They have to... put out the fires... first."

Thanks!

Author!anon here, last thing before I head to the airport.

Maybe? It's certainly been a great day/night! (Thanks, I will!)

Sentences mean thinking and well, there's not enough room in his head for that.

=)

Thank you! I like the pair of them as friends and I didn't think Tony would be the best person to be talking to Foggy now. Or at all, honestly. Thor is the best guy for non-Earthly solutions, why don't more people use him?

Haha yes! Though he kept Daredevil a secret (for the moment) so even Foggy has limits of what he'll do- betraying Matt's trust to save his life for one.

Thanks! I hope it's clear whose thoughts are whose; there's three people plus Foggy thinking there. Poor Matt is just a mess of thoughts until Foggy drowns it all out. I'm glad you liked it and as soon as I return, I will be working on this. =)

Thank you! I'm glad that worked. =)

HAHAHA matt you disaster cuddlebug

if he survives this he's never gonna be able to sleep in bed with another person EVER AGAIN oh no poor boo XD

Only one I know of is Lisa Molinari, and I feel like this kind of work would be right up her alley, considering she did a triptych of Gwen Stacy's death and titled it "Pop, Crackle and Snap."

http://marvel.wikia.com/Lisa_Molinari_(Earth-616)

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 58 of 209

Prompt Post #4

[FILL] Moths and Flames [2/?]

Re: Musical Crossover or Fusion

Re: Matt/foggy, masturbation as punishment

Re: Foggy's great act

Re: [FILL] Moths and Flames [2/?]

Re: 5+1 Matt tells his friends he loves them

Re: 616 Matt matchmaking MCU Matt and MCU Foggy

[FILL] Matt/Fisk, trapped 1/?

Re: [FILL] Moths and Flames [2/?]

Re: Matt/foggy, masturbation as punishment

Re: [FILL] Matt/Fisk, trapped 1/?

actual fill part 1 i guess?

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

Re: [FILL] Matt/Fisk, trapped 1/?

Re: Foggy's great act

Re: Daredevil Artists

Re: Matt/Fisk, trapped

Re: Foggy's great act

Re: FILL: 5+1, matt/OCs, matt/foggy [4/5]

[FILL] Matt/Fisk, trapped 2/?

Re: Fill: Clear and Honest Communication 1/?

Re: Mind Meld OP

Re: Fill: Clear and Honest Communication 1/?

Re: [FILL] Matt/Fisk, trapped 2/?

Re: Daredevil Artists