daredevilkink | Prompt Post #5

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Prompt Post #5

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OP - Yaaasss, perfect, thank you~ <3

Actual mystery in a fanfic?! So much love for this. So much.

mcu!Foggy is hopelessly in love with mcu!Matt.
comics!Matt is hopelessly in love with comics!Foggy.

Due to typical superhero shenanigans, all four end up in the same universe somehow and, of course, end up meeting the other two.

comics!Matt figures out that mcu!Foggy has a crush the size of the Pacific ocean on his Matt, and he's like "WTF why doesn't this version of me want you, he must be an idiot" and mcu!Foggy is kinda ... flabbergasted because wait, there's a universe where he *isn't* in love with Matt Motherfucking Murdock, seriously, what kind of nonsense is this?

mcu!Foggy and comics!Matt do the logical thing: They hook up.

Shenanigans ensue.

Some ideas:
- comics!Matt and mcu!Foggy trying to hide what they're doing because they're afraid the other two will figure out what's really going on and it will make things awkward. More than usual, that is. (Bonus: comics!Matt tries to outsmart his counterpart's senses by the most ridiculous means imaginable.)
- Alcohol-fueled bonding over their oblivious best friends.
- They don't know how long this dimension overlap ... thing will last, so they go at it like bunnies while they have the chance. Accidents might happen.
- mcu!Matt and comics!Foggy trying to actually get shit done while the other two are being weird and suspiciously absent all the time.
- Jealousy leading to revelations when/if the truth comes out? Maybe comics!Foggy never thought about it before and now can't seem to get it out of his head. Maybe mcu!Matt has been in love with his Foggy for ages, but never initiated a relationship because he thought he wasn't good enough for Foggy/dating would only ruin their friendship/he wanted to keep Foggy out of trouble/whatever and he's basically this ball of pining and angst and sexual frustration. And then this lunatic from another world just shows up and bangs Foggy six days to Sunday anyways. What an asshole.

Or anything you want. Just roll with it.

Crossover with being human UK. Basically an alternate universe where Matt is a werewolf, Foggy is a ghost, and Karen is a brand new, just turned vampire. (I did consider asking for Matt as the vampire but then I remembered that scene from the pilot where George threatens an abusive boyfriend, and I knew he had to be the werewolf)

Bonus points if
Fisk and Wesley are in charge of the vampires in Hells Kitchen, and they want Karen to join them (thats what the kidnapping thing was really about)

Matt got turned the night his dad died, by the same werewolf that killed his dad, Stick was also a werewolf who tried to teach him to deal with his condition (cause i'm seeing certain parallels between Stick and McNair)

Foggy was already dead when Matt met him in college, but it took him a while to admit it to himself (he just thought everyone was ignoring him)

Marci is a vampire, she and Foggy still dated, she's not as evil as the other vampires

I would love to see something based on this exchange:

"Seriously, you guys have never done the whole--" Karen waves her hands vaguely, "drunken bi-curious makeout thing?"

"Well," Matt says. "Never is a strong word."

Foggy puts his hands over his face and groans. "I thought we agreed not to speak of this again."

There was a comparison I once read between the Sam Vimes of Discworld's book Night Watch and Inspector Javert of Les Misérables. They are basically the same character only Javert defines Justice as the punishment of the guilty while Vimes defines it as the protection of the innocent.

Could we explore MCU!Matt and the Punisher in light of that divide? Matt protecting the innocent and well. The Punisher.

Genderfluid Matt rarely expresses his femanine side, because of his, strictly Catholic upbringing, Sticks spectacularly bad response, lack of self confidence, etc. But because he feels that being Daredevil means only showing stereotypically masculine traits, Matt finds it increasingly harder to balance his sense of self.

Bonus if Foggy had only a vague awareness of Matt being genderfluid, but being really supportive, with lots of resources and people to talk to.
Karen and Claire also being really supportive, but in a more 'well, how would you like to express yourself' way.

Extra bonus if Father Lantom is the most LGBT friendly priest in the city.

Omega!Matt and Alpha!Steve are friends-with-benefits. Matt knows Steve won't try to be a paternalistic alpha and attempt to take away his independence. Steve feels like he's not ready for a serious relationship anyway, and Matt doesn't judge. It's all working out, until the birth control fails and Matt gets pregnant.

Suddenly their lives are a romantic comedy.

+ Both of them blame themselves entirely, somehow ("I should've checked the condom better!"/"Maybe I wasn't diligent enough with the pill!")
++ Ultra excited Uncles Foggy and Sam. Lowkey excited Aunts Karen and Natasha.
+++ Matt, somehow, gets even hornier. Even with the serum, Steve's sure he's going to die.
++++ The baby's cheekbones end up being ridiculous.

Oh, hahah, would love to see this! Especially the matt-trying-to-outsmart-matt part!

I am not ashamed to admit that I cried a little

Matt and Karen having rough sex up against a wall in the office or behind the bar or somewhere else that anyone could just walk in at any time, and both of them really getting off on the idea.

That's it, that's the prompt.

http://www.braillebookstore.com/Beeping-Frisbee.1

Foggy turning up to the office with a bag full of stuff like this "Legally I can get reimbursed for %50 of this, since it's incredibly vital that you're able to join the company baseball team, and that Karen learns braille, and that we can have important lawyer poker games"

i'm lazy too but i really want this prompt combined with that one tumblr post reg. "establishing consent is dirty talk" to the tune of fisk being huge and ridiculous and very very careful to get permission for a) kissin, b) undressing, c) foreplay, d) sex, all while matt's like: i sort of grunted "ok" like five minutes ago, clearly i am INTO THIS, why you keep asking? is this some kind of HUMILIATION POWER PLAY?

the Sudden & Mysterious Appearance of the White Noise Machine

someone just "accidentally" dropping a bottle of vanilla essence or peppermint essence constantly.

i need this in my life.

op - yas, I approve of this :>

I'd love this so bad pretty please

perhaps Matt can hear Foggy freaking out (from across a parking lot - oh, no, y'all don't have those on the east coast, do you?) and tries to respond to him, assuming that these aren't necessarily superpowers, this is just ~how things are~

cue the people who are actually close enough to hear Matt arguing with thin air ("what was I supposed to do, just leave him? he needed help, he was gonna fall!") and becoming Very Concerned. Matt doesn't know why Foggy won't respond to his Very Excellent Points.

Okay, I want Matt and Foggy to play The Newlywed Game with another couple. I don't really care who the other couple they are playing against is. Jessica Jones/Luke Cage? Steve/Bucky? Claire/Karen? Karen/Brett? Karen/Wesley? Fisk/Vanessa? Any pairing really.

Matt and Foggy are really good at it.

Bonus for the some of the questions being really out there (like some really obscure question) that a normal person won't know, but of course Matt or Foggy knows the answer.

Matt/Foggy can be an established relationship before or they can realize they that should be together after they kick the other couple's but.

(Matt acts out: it doesn't go well.

hey, heads up: noncon scene involving a minor and an adult?)

Matthew'd spent some serious time running his fingers over a subway map, thinking.

Wilson had spent the night away from the house three days that week. Which usually meant - at this point, it usually meant - that he was talking to people he didn't want Matthew to overhear.

Matthew was fifteen.

He got on the subway, and he changed lines five or six times, until he was really and truly not in his neighborhood anymore. It smelled different. Slightly different kind of asphalt, maybe: the gas, too, the fuel from the cars? He might've been imagining that part.

He still wasn't sure if he should throw his phone away, or not.

It would be the stupidest thing to keep it: if he kept the phone, there was no way that this could be considered a real attempt to run away (to run away! How selfish of him! All those nights that he'd prayed for someone to adopt him, and now he was...throwing that away.) because Wilson was almost certainly tracking his phone, but.

"I'm fine, I'm not hurt, I'm not with anyone," he texted, finally, and pulled the sim card out and snapped it in half before flushing it down the toilet. The phone went into the trash can.

He wasn't stupid, and Wilson wasn't a good man.

Matt hadn't made Wilson into a bad man, he wasn't crazy, he knew that, but he couldn't stay in Wilson's house, keep eating his food and using his money: it would be wrong. (Wilson gave him money frequently and got worried when he didn't spend it: the assistive devices that Wilson had purchased were leaps and bounds away from the old junk Matt had been stuck using at the orphanage.)

Matt took a deep breath and folded his cane, shoved it into his backpack, and focused.

He threw up, in the toilet, and then he refocused: he could do this. He could look like a normal person, a sighted person, for as long as it took to switch lines: it would be harder for Wilson to follow him.

He'd heard of this, back when he'd lived in the orphanage: there, it had been impossible, insulting, to understand that there were some ungrateful orphans who would run away from the people who'd adopted them. Now? Now he felt sick, and tired, and utterly unamused by all of his choices. He hated everything. He was angry - or he would have been angry, if he hadn't been so tired.

**

"I have money, though," Matt told the clerk at the motel.

"Can't you read?" the guy said; he tapped the counter. "Credit cards only." He didn't sound much older than Matt, honestly. "And we don't allow minors to rent rooms to themselves, it's a liability thing: where's your folks, kid?"

"Oh, he's with me," someone (male, taller than Matt, probably older, steady heartbeat, prickling in - fear? anticipation? who knew? - smelled like expensive soap and cheap cologne, nonsmoker, linen shirt, probably) said. "There you are, sport, I told you to wait for me to check in."

Matthew did not know this man, but -

- but he was a runaway.

And this man was interested in helping him.

(What he wanted was likely to be gross and very boring: Matt thought that he could handle it.)

**

It was, in fact, both gross and boring, and a little cartoonish, like "Call me Max" was trying too hard to fulfill the role of dirty old man. He wanted some things; Matt did the things - he didn't even have to take his clothes off - and "Max" rolled over and started snoring on the dirty bed. Matt considered his options, breathing in the smell of the last ten people who'd used this room, plus the heavy, sickening scent of cleaning products, and came to a decision. He couldn't sleep here, there was no point to it, so he (very quietly) fumbled for Max's wallet, where the man had dropped his pants on the floor, and pulled out the bills (he hoped that they weren't all ones, but with his luck? it was unlikely) to shove in his own pants pocket.

And then he pulled his cane out of his backpack and crept out of the room, tapping his way down the hall. He could sleep outside, it would be fine: it was bad but not unbearable.

Of course, James Wesley was sitting in one of the (filthy) armchairs in the lobby. Matt considered simply walking past him, or turning around and hoping there was a rear exit down the hall, but - but if Wesley was here, then he'd clearly underestimated the effort involved in leaving, and he still had no real idea of how the motel was laid out.

"You look awful," Wesley said, first off. "You need to shower, I can't bring you back like this."

"Then I feel way better than I look," Matt said. Pretending to be cheerful felt - harder, than usual. He wanted to cry, a lot, and he wanted to get on a bus or a plane and go somewhere far away. The west coast, maybe. Europe.

"You understand that what that man did was a felony," Wesley said.

"I wanted it," Matt said, immediately, leaning forward: how did they know? Absolutely not okay, not - no, no, this was worse, he shouldn't have - "and he didn't do anything, anyways, only a sicko would assume - it's fine. Nothing happened. Just don't."

Wesley sounded bored, and irritated: "I assumed you wouldn't want to press charges. He won't approach another minor."

"Don't kill him," Matt said, helpless and miserable.

"Don't be dramatic." Wesley sighed; he sounded disappointed, and Matt didn't know why he cared. It wasn't like Wesley's good opinion mattered to him. It didn't. "This was your best shot? I expected more, to be honest."

"Sorry we're not all anal control freaks." The hole in the right knee of his jeans was small, but there were enough ragged threads that he could tidy up with a hand. He didn't care, he was absolutely not glad that Wesley was there, he didn't care if everyone knew that.

"You're still a child."

"Yeah, fuck you very much," Matt said, because it wasn't like Wesley was that much older than him, before he heard himself saying it, and realized how young it made him sound. That was embarrassing. Wesley sat next to him, still and calm, letting Matt realize what he'd said.

"You're still a child. You're still Mr. Fisk's responsibility; if you're unhappy in his house, you can always request alternative living arrangements. There was no need for this...display."

Yessssssssss

This is so cute! Oh, Foggy. Love the club aspect, hilarious. :D Can't wait to see more of this.

“I’ll take this one, if you want,” Foggy says outside the courthouse. “You look like someone took a baseball bat to the side of your head.”

Matt rubs at his bruised cheek, grimaces. “That is more or less what happened.”

“Seriously, Matt?”

“Piece of rebar, actually. But it’s the same general idea.”

Foggy sighs gustily. “In the future, please consider all such questions strictly rhetorical. I really don’t need to know the details. Are you sure you’re not concussed? Because that would explain--” he breaks off.

That would explain the kissing. A part of him wants to grab onto the excuse, but it would probably just make Foggy worry more. “I’m not concussed.”

“Are you sure?”

“That’s what I have a helmet for, Foggy. I’m not concussed. It’s just a bruise.”

“A nasty bruise. If you could see what you’re doing to that pretty face of yours, maybe you’d be more careful.”

Matt swallows. It’s not--that’s just how Foggy talks, and right now he sounds the farthest thing in the world from flirtatious. It doesn’t mean anything. “Does it really look that bad?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“I have concealer in my bag,” Matt says, before he can chicken out. Foggy’s covered bruises for him dozens of times, and he’s good at it; their client really doesn’t need the distraction of a lawyer who looks like the wrong end of an amateur boxing match. Whatever issues he has going on in his head, he will deal with. “If you want to do cover-up.”

“This is so not what I thought my life was going to be like when I went to law school,” Foggy sighs, shifting his bag to his other shoulder. “Yeah, all right. Come on, Cinderella, let’s get you ready for the big dance.”

***

“I really hope somebody walks in right now,” Foggy says, tilting Matt’s face toward the warmth of the light. “That would be awesome. This doesn’t look suspicious at all. Remind me again why we couldn’t just use the handicapped bathroom?”

“Because it’s for handicapped people,” Matt says. Foggy’s fingers are gentle on his face, and soft; no callus or winter roughness, the faint glycerin smell of unscented moisturizer. His touch is feather-light, but it still stings.

“You’re handicapped.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I admire your selflessness and dedication to principle, but sometimes it can be very damn inconvenient,” Foggy says, unscrewing the cap for the concealer. He sets it on the sink counter with a faint clink and dips his fingers in the makeup, the sharp chemical scent of it momentarily overpowering. Matt wrinkles his nose. “Now hold still.”

Matt holds still. Foggy smoothes the thick cream across the bruise with quick, sure motions; he actually really is good at this, apparently a skill acquired in high school drama club and occasionally put to nefarious uses, at least if his wilder stories are to be believed. His face is close to Matt’s, his breathing slow and even; if Matt concentrates he can almost make out his intent expression, the way his brows draw together and his lips purse. He has only a sketchy idea of what Foggy looks like--faces are easiest to read by touch, and he’s only done that once--but he can feel the memory of his skin beneath his fingertips, warm and tingling.

It’s over too quickly, and not nearly quickly enough for Matt’s frazzled nerves. Foggy steps back, puts the cap back on the concealer, and says, “There you go, good as new.”

“Thank you,” Matt says quietly.

“Anytime. Or, you know, not, actually--as much as I enjoy reliving my theater days, I’d much rather be doing your makeup because you, I don’t know, discovered some long-suppressed ambition of moonlighting as a drag queen instead of getting your face bashed in by criminals.”

Matt laughs, startled. “I don’t think I can walk in heels.”

“You can backflip off a building, I’m pretty sure you could do the Tina Turner strut if you put your mind to it.” Foggy claps him on the shoulder, his voice full of laughter. “Come on, we’re going to be late.”

***

The case is, for once, fairly open-and-shut, a teenaged store clerk who found herself accused of cleaning out the register drawers after she rebuffed her manager’s attentions. The prosecution’s case is flimsy enough that Matt is actually wondering if someone has been bribed to bring charges, but that’s a matter for Daredevil to investigate, not Matthew Murdock; for the time being, he sits between their client, Alicia Gonzalez, and her mother, listening to Foggy narrate over the security tape footage.

“--and as you can clearly see, this cuts out exactly one minute before the cash drawers were opened last. My client did not have the knowledge or the access to tamper with the cameras, and in fact was not, at the time of the theft, even in the building. Security cameras from the deli across the street clearly show her outside the building, talking into her cell phone at the precise time when the alleged robbery took place.” His voice is smooth, clear and confident; he’s in his element here, always at his best on the courtroom floor. Matt might be the one with the strange abilities and the shadowy alter-ego, but of the two of them, Foggy is the gifted lawyer, and it is a pleasure to listen to him work. “The prosecution has yet to present any evidence whatsoever that my client was even present at the scene of the robbery, much less that she is the guilty party.” He steps back, shoes squeaking faintly on the tiled floor. “Thank you.”

He turns back toward them, and Matt grins, gives him a discreet thumbs-up. Foggy’s heart speeds up slightly, a faint heat rising in his cheeks.

Matt feels an answering warmth in his own face, and he drops his head, concentrates on the smooth surface of the table beneath his fingers. Yeah. It’s possible he might be in some trouble, here.

***

The jury deliberates for all of fifteen minutes before returning a ‘not guilty’ verdict, and Matt accepts grateful hugs from Alicia and Mrs. Gonzalez, listens to Foggy’s pleased laughter when the latter takes his face between her hands and kisses him on both cheeks, and instructs them to drop by the office tomorrow to make sure that everything is cleared up. Then it’s just the two of them in the hallway outside the courtroom, and he doesn’t need to see Foggy’s expression to know that he’s grinning.

“Well, seeing as it’s Friday and we are once again victorious, I think we should go gather Karen and get a celebratory drink or three at Josie’s. What do you say?”

Matt shakes his head. “I should go home. Try to get some sleep before--well. Before I go out tonight.”

“That’s a disturbingly sensible idea, coming from you. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Right.”

“Seriously, Foggy, I’m fine. Just tired.”

For a moment, he thinks Foggy might push it, but he doesn’t. “Suit yourself,” he says cheerfully. “If you decide you’ve had enough brooding in your lonely apartment, though, you know where to find me.”

“Yeah,” Matt says. “Thanks. I’ll think about it.”

He really needs to talk to his priest.

***

He finds Father Lantom in the nave, sitting quietly in an otherwise empty pew. His breathing is slow and even and he smells faintly of incense and cigarette smoke. He doesn’t turn toward Matt, doesn’t tense up the way most people do when someone sits behind them. After a long silence, he says, “Something on your mind, Matthew?”

“Yes,” Matt says, twisting his hands together in his lap.

“Hm.” Lantom allows the silence to stretch out again before finally asking, “Are you going to tell me what it is?”

Matt takes a deep breath, then lets it out again. Doesn’t speak.

“That bad?”

“No. No, it’s--” It’s not that bad. It’s not anything, compared to what he’s already confessed to this man, and Matt wonders what that says about him, that he finds it easier to own up to the bloody swath of destruction he’s cut through the criminals of this city than one brief, confusing kiss. “It’s not that bad.” He huffs out a breath of laughter. “I haven’t killed anyone.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Lantom says solemnly.

“I--” He takes another deep breath. “I kissed someone. My friend. Foggy.”

“I see.”

“He’s a man.”

“So I gathered,” Lantom says mildly. “I doubt you’d be in here twisting yourself up about it, otherwise.”

“I know it’s a sin.”

Lantom cocks his head. “Would you like me to assign you penance?”

“You’re the priest,” Matt says tightly.

“I am, yes. And my job is overseeing the souls of my congregation. Are you in fear for your soul, Matthew?”

“I--” Matt stops. He could say yes, but even though Lantom can’t hear heartbeats, he’s been a priest long enough to know a lie when he hears one. And there’s really no point in lying to a priest. “No. Not about this, anyway.”

“That’s what I thought.” There’s a rustle of cotton as Lantom turns in his seat. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re really here?”

“I don’t know what to say to him.” Matt takes his glasses off, rubs the bridge of his nose. “He’s my best friend. It’s not fair to be messing with his head. I just did it because I thought that’s what he wanted, that it might be enough to make him stay, but--”

“But,” Lantom repeats gravely. “You owe it to your friend to be honest with him. What do you want?”

“I don’t know,” Matt says. “I don’t--I don’t know.”

“Well,” Lantom says, “maybe you need to work that out, first.”

Me: [refills my glass]

Matt: [drains his glass]

Me: [slides over bottle]

Matt: [refills his glass]

Me: [drains my glass]

Matt: [slides over bottle]

Argh. Perfect prompt is perfect.

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Page 56 of 186

Prompt Post #5

Re: Fluffy Matt/Fisk/(Vanessa) snippet

Re: fill, not every saint is a fool, 1/?

mcu!Foggy/comics!Matt - the next best thing

Being human crossover

Matt/Foggy & Karen, bicurious makeouts

Matt and the Punisher - different styles of Justice

Genderfluid Matt, Catholic guilt, gen/any

Matt/Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega verse

Re: mcu!Foggy/comics!Matt - the next best thing

Re: Foggy/Rape Survivor - Foggy is awesome

Matt/Karen, semi-public wall-sex

Re: Beach Day!/ Matt gets to have fun playing sports :D

Re: Fluffy Matt/Fisk/(Vanessa) snippet

Re: mcu!Foggy/comics!Matt - the next best thing

Re: Matt/Foggy & Karen, bicurious makeouts

Re: Fluffy Matt/Fisk/(Vanessa) snippet

Re: Genderfluid Matt, Catholic guilt, gen/any

Re: [gen] amnesiac!Matt

Matt/Foggy and Any/Any - The Newlywed Game

he draws a napkin battle plan 3

Re: Matt/Foggy and Any/Any - The Newlywed Game

Re: Slow burn Foggy/Matt OP fill 1/? WIP

FILL: leave the world outside 3/?

Re: fandom style author/character conversation

Re: Dark!Matt kidnaps foggy so Daredevil can save him