daredevilkink | Prompt Post #5

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Prompt Post #5

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Repost: Papa Nelson would never hit his kids or wife. Sure he might hit the wall right next to your head or throw something, but hit you? Never. Mama Nelson was a royal fuck up. Totally dysfunctional. Can't manage to keep food in the house, bills payed, and is a thief. So Foggy tried to fix everything. I want to see Foggy dealing with building relationships as an adult and the effects of his not great childhood. Foggy's layed back ways was a act. His SO (I'm fond of Matt but cool with whatever) figures it out.

Link: http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/1742.html?thread=3201742#cmt3201742

IT WILL TAKE A FEW DAYS UNTIL MY CANE SHOWS UP.
(And I have to find my shirt.)

Oh my god. Yes.

The second or third ep when Foggy is out getting drunk with Karen, he mentions going to the Japanese fish market to haggle for fish. So maybe he knows more Japanese than he lets on?

Y U DO DIS

He remembers everything up until college. After that, it's nothing for him.

Jesus, I don't think Matt would ever recover from this. He'd destroy himself trying to find Foggy.

(a pause, while i communicate my feelings bout teeny!self!destructive!murdock and twenty-two-year-old-mob-babysitter-Wesley. matt is a horrible tangle of...teenage abandonment issues and Stick issues and genuine moral dilemmas reg. Wilson Fisk, and Wesley's internal soundtrack is basically that one screencap titled why-me-why-me-why-me-why-me-why-me.)

had brought the hypoallergenic farmer's market soap that Matt liked, and a pair of his old sleep pants and a silk t-shirt, and that made Matt feel both inexplicably guilty and absolutely furious, but he was right: there was no point to going back to New York looking or smelling like - like he'd done anything to be ashamed of.

That would be asking for trouble.

"Get in the car," Wesley said: "have you eaten?"

"Yes," Matt told him.

He heard the sound of Wesley banging his head against the steering wheel, very gently. "Don't do that," Matt said, "you'll give yourself a bruise."

"Yes," Wesley said, dry as a bone, "that is the - do you know how lucky you are that I found you before the police did?"

"I don't need anyone to look out for me," Matt said, sullen.

"Of course not," Wesley said, mildly. "Apples in the glovebox. Organic."

It would have been incredibly satisfying to say that he wasn't hungry, but he was, actually. Hungry. (Which proved that no matter how many grumpy noises Wesley made, "Max" hadn't been a big deal: Matt had heard all the talks. He knew that if something really awful happened, you lost your appetite or threw up a lot. He was hungry. They were the good apples.)

And yet.

"I don't. Care," Matt said, firmly. "Is he. My dad's probably pretty mad, right?"

Wesley's heart sped up, uneven and abrupt, but he didn't say anything for a minute: great, not only had Matt disappointed Wesley, but he'd made Wilson angry. (Wilson was a bad man who would keep doing terrible things (and probably spending even more than two or three nights away from the house, not that it mattered, not that Matt cared about that at all) so it was good, right, that he'd made Wilson angry? but.) And then the embarrassment hit, because he'd just realized - he hadn't meant to say that out loud. He was pretty good about...about remembering to use Wilson, instead of anything. Else. When referring to him.

"Stop spying on my heart," Wesley said. "No, your father's not angry."

Matt realized his mistake, and felt the blood rushing to his own face, the skip of his own heart, which was still extremely disorienting. And shameful. "He's not my - "

"Your guardian has been extremely worried," Wesley said. "He had a right to be, for god's sake."

"I had it under control," Matt argued, because after a shower and two apples he felt a little better.

"No," Wesley said, firmly. "You did not. Don't lie." Matt didn't have anything to say to that, but Wesley gave in, five minutes later: "he's not angry, you dipshit." Matt could hear his heart fluttering, and then he sighed, irritated, and said: "I am, you child: you have the opportunity for a world class education, and you'd - what, throw it away?"

"Yeah," Matt said, immediately, hurt and guilty and very ashamed of himself, "I go to school and if I get really lucky I'll get to chase down someone's disobedient pet freak when I'm not selling drugs."

If Wesley had yelled at him, or even come back with one of those vicious retorts that left Matt feeling young and stupid, it would've been - not all right, but it wouldn't've have left Matt feeling like the bad guy. Instead, though, Wesley just said "if that is your ambition, you'll need to familiarize yourself with state and federal laws regarding the custody and transport of minors," like what Matt had said hadn't been cruel.

Sometimes Matt really had to wonder about the kind world that left him blind but left him able to cry at the drop of a hat.

Five minutes later, Wesley sighed and produced a silk handkerchief. "I don't need it back," he said, calmly. "You haven't offended me. I'm glad you're safe."

They didn't say anything else for the rest of the drive home.

**

"I'm...glad to see you," Wilson said.

Matt didn't say anything, because he didn't have the words to communicate I know you're talking to drug dealers and I'm so sorry and you can probably still talk Sister Agnes into giving me a bed until I hit eighteen and no one has to deal with me.

"I don't know what to do," Wilson continued. Matt shrugged. The chairs in the living room were new; there was a - sheepskin? slung across one of them; it was unbelievably nice to run his fingers through it, tug at the wool. "I can." He paused. "I can leave you alone," he said, uncertain, his heart beating fast. He smelled sad. (Matt didn't know what sad smelled like; he just knew that he wasn't wrong when it happened.) "The staff would...see to your needs, until you - finished high school."

"'snot like you've been around at all anyways, lately," Matt said, and tried very hard not to slap himself in the face, because. That had sounded utterly pathetic.

Wilson sounded surprised. "Business has - I didn't want to. To disturb you," he said, uncertainly: "my intent was not to neglect you."

"You didn't," Matt said. "You were busy. With your drug-dealer friends. I get it. It's fine."

"That is...not the most accurate way to describe the. Situation," Wilson said. Matt pulled his knees up to his chest. The sheepskin was surprisingly warm, and soothing: they didn't have things like that at the orphanage. Well. Going back would toughen him up. Stick had been right, after all.

"You don't need to worry," he said. "I won't tell anyone."

"That is not my concern," Wilson said, and cautiously put a hand on Matt's shoulder. He did not in any way take comfort from the familiar weight of it; okay, maybe he leaned into it, but that was just the - "you are my first priority, Matthew."

He rubbed a hand across his nose; caught the scent of apples and sun-hot vinyl, briefly. "When you're not busy being a criminal," he said. He'd meant it to come out strong, confrontational, and it just so happened to - to come out small.

"I didn't realize I'd neglected...the house," Wilson said, uncertainly. "So badly."

"It's fine," Matt said.

"I can make time," Wilson said. "If you wouldn't mind. Sharing this house. I...I've grown fond of it."

"I don't care," Matt said.

(AIIII I CANNOT um. okay, i am now scarily invested in "wilson fisk, Murder Dad Who Tries Really Hard, and Most Sullen Mob Princess Murdock. hopefully I have here captured the nightmare that it would be. is it all about making everyone miserable? NO! behold, the plot: i needed a very good reason for wilson fisk to categorically oppose human trafficking/any attempts to capitalize on teenagers, whether it be for domestic work or sex trafficking, and here we have it: his tiny adopted son was an absolute nightmare in adolescence, and wilson fisk gets attached to people ridiculously quickly.)

I have too much stuff that needs to get done but oh my god, yes, thank you, I'm sort of thinking I might. write more. oh my god.

(I mean, I can't write porn, somebody else can do that, but I can write 616!Matt and MCU!Foggy's Adventures In Not Letting On That They Hooked Up, featuring a fuckton of vanilla essence, some kind of white noise machine, and something anti-radar. (and then 616!Foggy walks in bc they forgot the door.)

Matt knows Foggy is a cutter. He cuts himself on his thighs and stomach to hide them, so Matt can't exactly ask Foggy about it. The few times he subtly tries, Foggy shuts him down.

What happens afterwards when Matt's secret is revealed? "Foggy, I know you've been cutting yourself. I can smell the blood."

I was thinking about prompting something like this, cause she would be treated soooo differently.

I CAN'T EVEN HANDLE THIS AND IT'S JUST A PROMPT ON A KINKMEME

Hello there, Satan.

oh, Matt would go insane, thanks.

Is Foggy dead?

How does Matt handle the (insane, ridiculous) idea that maybe Foggy just...left? and is now sprawled on a beach in southern california right now? because hey, maybe he just gave up on matt and karen. maybe he's not dead at all. maybe he just hated them enough to leave without saying anything! that would be so much better than the idea that his body is rotting somewhere in the canadian forest, where Matt will never find it -

(or wherever east coast people dump bodies. we dump them in the backcountry?)

This might be of interest: http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/1296.html?thread=1739280#cmt1739280

the mental image of 616!Matt and MCU!Foggy engaging in quick and dirty up-against-the-wall sex with frantic kissing (along with Foggy complaining that he's going to feel the bruises from the bricks later) is never going to leave my mind, Jesus Christ that's kind of really hot. and they're getting what they want for once! except it isn't exactly what they want, and they keep thinking of the one they're pining after, but at the same time best sex ever, and at the same time they're sneaking around and actively covering up the fact that they're hooking up bc neither of them want things to get Even More Awkward

the other mental image of MCU!Matt sort of sitting in the corner twitching jealously and silently going "THAT'S MY FOGGY. YOU HAVE YOUR OWN FOGGY. BANG HIM THIS ONE IS MINE." once he figures it out is not going to leave my head either. 616!Foggy figures it out like way before MCU!Matt does, possibly bc he's known Matt for long enough that he recognizes when he's hooked up with somebody and is sneaking around trying to cover it up. (granted, he doesn't figure out it's MCU!Foggy until he walks in on them, which is hilarious bc 616!Matt probably does his best to mask the sensory trail and everything but then Foggy walks in bc they forgot to lock the damn door. and now he can't get it out of his head either.)

I was thinking of prompting this exact idea the other day!

It reminds me that there was a fic exactly like this back when the Young Justice fandom was active that deals with Robin/Dick Grayson disappearing and his best friend Wally/Flash trying to find him. The ending hit me so hard in the chest, I am still not over it (like 4 years later). I feel like whoever writes this fic will have the same effect on me.

Definitely would love to see this and by love I mean, this is going to wreak me emotionally and I am going to cry about it for a long time.

i think i love you, anon. <3

OP - Lol, now that I think about it I think you are totally right. I can imagine Matt knocking the pudding out of Foggy's hand and Foggy basically saying,'What was that for!' and then threatening to sue Matt over wasting perfectly good pudding.

i really need, when everybody has gotten over themselves and the foursome starts happening, for the matt's to make out shirtlessly for the foggy's pleasure

and also mine

(Everyone likes multi-fills, right?)

Life never really did run out of ways to surprise a guy, Foggy thought as he stared at the amber liquid sloshing in the bottom of his glass. The aliens that had attacked New York had sure been one hell of a shock. And then the Avengers. And the exposure - and subsequent implosion - of SHIELD. Just for starters. And after he’d adjusted to all of that, he’d found out that Matt was actually some kind of vigilante superhero, waging a one-man war on crime in Hell’s Kitchen.

...Which, okay. He was still getting used to that.

He lifted his glass, tipping it back as he drained it in a single swallow. He grimaced at the burn of the cheap liquor, closing his eyes as it hit his stomach in a bloom of warmth. False comfort maybe, but he’d take it.

“Uh, is this seat taken?”

Foggy slitted one eye open, resisting the urge to sigh at the tall redhead standing beside him, eyes screened from view by red sunglasses, folded white cane in one hand and a full bottle in the other.

Because, yeah. Apparently the universe thought that having to accept one Matt-as-Daredevil wasn’t enough challenge for Foggy Nelson. So now he had two of him - them? - to deal with. And another version of himself, for good measure.

“I mean, I know I’m probably one of the things you’re trying to get away from,” Other Matt continued, “but I’d really rather not be drinking alone tonight. And you heard all the warnings they gave us about mixing with the natives until we have a better grasp of what happened…”

And hadn’t that been a trip? Foggy finally getting a chance to visit Stark Tower and meet the Avengers, because alternate universe versions of himself and Matt had walked into their law office this afternoon. (And thank God they’d already let Karen in on the Daredevil sideline; Foggy was sure that explaining that along with the surprise duplicates would have turned a confusing afternoon into an epic clusterfuck.) Foggy had held out for an hour and a half of technobabble before noticing how tired his alter-self had looked, so he’d interrupted the theorizing to announce that he was taking himself - himselves? - home for a break. The Matts had looked concerned, but Foggy - both of him, he’d been unwillingly amused to notice - had waved them off before leaving them to figure out the mess.

But while the other Foggy might have needed a nap, Foggy was in desperate need of a drink. So after he got himself - his other self? God, the semantics of this situation were going to fry more brain cells than Foggy could afford to lose - settled in his apartment, with the number of his cell programmed into the burner that he normally used for Daredevil conversations and left with him in case of emergency, Foggy took himself off to Josie’s. And he’d been doing a pretty good job of temporarily ignoring the insanity of the day, hiding here at the far end of the bar, until it turned up again to interfere with his evening plans.

But while this other Matt wasn’t the Matt Foggy knew best, he recognized that small, hopeful smile, and he’d never been any good at saying no when it was turned on him.

“If you’re willing to share that bottle, then the seat’s all yours,” Foggy said, mood lightening despite himself when Other Matt’s expression broadened into a beaming grin at the invitation.

“That was the plan,” he agreed, as he carefully placed the bottle on the bar, reaching with his now-free hand for the back of the empty chair beside Foggy. He even produced a second glass with a showy flourish, though Foggy was pretty sure he’d had it tucked in one of his jacket pockets.

Foggy busied himself with cracking the bottle open as Other Matt got comfortable, pouring them both generous measures before capping it again. He nudged the glass over to Other Matt’s hand, wondering over how casually capable he acted. Foggy knew that Matt didn’t need his guidance any more than this one did, but he acted a lot more, well, blind when he was out and about in public.

They were both dramatic little shits, though, so Foggy wasn’t really all that surprised when Other Matt lifted his glass in a toast.

“To goatee-free alternate universe meetings?” he proposed, mouth quirking into a self-satisfied grin when Foggy snorted laughter into his glass.

“I’ll drink to that,” Foggy agreed, reaching over to tap their glasses together.

“Is Foggy - my Foggy - okay?” Other Matt asked after knocking back a healthy slug of Josie’s finest.

Foggy nodded, giving in to long habit and narrating the gesture as he answered the question. “Seemed all right when I left him. Just tired. Uh, is there something I should be on the lookout for?”

Other Matt shook his head slowly, and Foggy could see his brow furrowing over the bridge of his glasses. “No, it’s just...he’s been sick. And he’s over the worst of it, but falling into another universe was kind of rough on him. I was worried.”

Sick, huh? Yeah, Foggy supposed that explained a few things about how drawn his other self had seemed earlier. Other Matt had said he was over the worst of it, Foggy reminded himself uneasily, and they were different people besides.

“I wouldn’t worry too much,” he offered aloud. “He was okay as of an hour or so ago. And if he’s anything like me, he’ll speak up if he’s got something to complain about.”

This time it was Foggy’s turn to be smug over startling a laugh from his drinking buddy.

“That’s true enough,” Other Matt agreed through his chuckles. “He’s never been shy on that front. And you don’t sound as if you are, either.”

Foggy hadn’t expected it to be so easy, sitting here drinking with Other Matt, even after the conversation lapsed into a pleasantly comfortable silence. Maybe there was enough of Matt-Matt in this Matt to smooth over the impossibility of his presence.

“Are we really so different?” Other Matt asked, apparently deciding to prove they were anything of the kind by following Foggy’s train of thought as easily as Matt ever had. “Me and your Matt?”

Foggy breathed through the familiar twist in his chest at the casual “your Matt”. Matt wasn’t his, not the way Foggy wanted him to be.

“Kind of,” he answered. “In some ways. I mean, side by side? It looks like the four of us have switched colouring or something.”

“No,” Other Matt breathed, looking delighted. “You’re a carrot top?”

“Well,” Foggy dragged the word out before admitting, “more blond than red. But definitely more red than brown. Over here, Matt’s got the brown hair and brown eyes.”

Other Matt leaned forward, fingers twitching on the bar top. “So yours are what? Blue?”

“Ish. More of a hazel, I guess. Blue in the right light, though.”

“Guess that’s what Foggy meant when he said I wear brown better than he ever did,” Other Matt said, thoughtful tone belied by his wide, gleeful grin.

“Matt does make it look good,” Foggy agreed.

He only realized his mistake when Other Matt turned sharply towards him, lips parting as he drew in a startled breath.

Goddamned super senses! Foggy mentally swore as he hastily added, “Not that you aren’t doing a fine job of pulling off the red and blue combo!”

He had the pleasure of seeing Other Matt’s mouth curl into a slow, pleased smirk before what he’d said sank in.

“Oh, fuck my life,” Foggy groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Just ignore me. Apparently my ability to be inappropriately flirtatious to Matt Murdocks I’ve just met transcends universal boundaries.”

Keeping one hand splayed across his face, blush burning hot against his fingers, he groped blindly for the bottle. This called for a fresh double. He couldn’t help but jump slightly in his seat when a warm hand settled over his, fingers curling lightly around the edge of his hand as a thumb stroked softly against the inside of his wrist. Gathering his courage, he peered through his fingers and found Other Matt smiling at him, a softer, happier expression than he’d seen yet on the man.

“I don’t think I could ignore you if I tried,” Other Matt said, voice low and warm.

Foggy swallowed hard, hand dropping away from his face as he took in the frankly appreciative expression on Other Matt’s face, the steady warmth of his hand as he shifted his grip to something slightly more possessive. For a split second, Foggy considered pulling away. Other - no, Matt - would let him go, he was sure, and it would be the smart thing to do. But damn it, Foggy couldn’t help but wonder where this was going. He’d always been too curious for his own good. And Matt had always, always been one of his weaknesses. Apparently that crossed universal boundaries too.

“Is that what this is about?” he asked as he shook their joined hands, not missing Matt’s shiver at the roughness of his voice. “I mean, am I reading this right? Are you seriously making a move? On me?”

“And if I am?” Matt challenged softly. “Because I can tell you one difference between me and your Matt: I’m not inclined to ignore how your heartbeat’s racing right now. Or the way your breath catches every time I touch you.”

“Such a creeper,” Foggy managed, but he figured the protest was undermined by the tight clutch of his hand on Matt’s. “Thought you had somebody back home?”

“I did.” Matt’s grip loosened slightly as his smile turned sad. “Kirsten was - is - amazing, and Foggy keeps hoping we’ll get back together. He thinks we’d be good together, and he’s probably right. But she wants to be the star of her own story instead of just getting caught up in mine, and I don’t blame her.”

“Aw, Matt…” Foggy couldn’t help but reach over and catch Matt’s hand between both of his own.

Matt shook his head, quick to add his other hand to the tangle between them. “She deserves the best. And whatever else happened with us, I loved him for years before I met her.”

Oh, Foggy thought numbly, pieces falling into place in the wake of Matt’s quiet confession. So that’s what this was about.

“So I’m - what? - the next best thing? Or maybe you figure we can do each other a favour? Since I’m guessing you sniffed out the way I feel about my - I mean, this world’s Matt.”

Matt’s fingers tightened almost painfully on Foggy’s hands. “I don’t know how any Matt could be stupid enough not to want you back. And yeah, I thought maybe we could help each other out, because Foggy’s my best friend, and I wouldn’t give him up for the world, but if overlapping universes give me a shot at something more - even for a night - then I’m going to take it. If you want.”

“Just for a night?” Foggy couldn’t quite keep the bitterness out of his voice as he tugged his hands free. He’d had his share of one night stands, but he didn’t think he could handle any version of Matt being one of them.

The gentle brush of fingers against his jaw brought his head snapping up, and Matt cupped his cheek in one calloused hand as he leaned across the distance between them. His free hand tugged his glasses off, baring his face as he “looked” straight at Foggy from inches away. “The Avengers might send us home tomorrow. But I’d take as many nights with you as I can get. I mean, I’m not this world’s Matt. But maybe I can be your Matt? For tonight, at least?”

“This is crazy,” Foggy whispered, licking his lips. It was completely, stupidly crazy, but he was going to say yes. He didn’t have it in him to turn Matt down, not when he was asking like this, all soft touches and wistful smiles and wanting Foggy like his Matt never had.

Oh, fuck it. In for a penny, Foggy thought as he slid one hand around the back of Matt’s neck and pulled him into a heated kiss. Matt’s response was enthusiastic and immediate. He gave as good as he got, and they were both breathless when they pulled apart.

“I hope you’ve got someplace to go,” Foggy said as he collected his jacket from the back of his chair, hastily shrugging into it as he caught his breath. “Because my apartment’s occupied, and I refuse to take this back to Matt’s.”

“The Avengers offered me a room at Stark Tower,” Matt said, sliding his hand into the crook of Foggy’s arm as soon as they were both standing. “I think you should walk me home. Maybe come inside so we can continue swapping stories about the differences between our universes.”

“Is that the story you’re going with?” Foggy asked, torn between amused and appalled as they threaded their way through the bar and out onto the street. Everyone would know the truth in seconds, and it would make the next few days (weeks, months) excruciatingly awkward.

But weighed against the desperate clutch of Matt’s hands in his hair, the hot, wet slide of their mouths together, and the fragilely hopeful look on Matt’s face right now...it would be absolutely worth it.

“Want me to lead the way?”

other authornon here, and hoo boy, I may have just fanned myself a bit, wow.

and I love you too, anon!

and mine too

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Page 60 of 186

Prompt Post #5

Foggy/ any Foggy is a survivor of childhood domestic abuse

Re: Interprative dance

Re: Young!Matt had orthodontic headgear

Re: Foggy/Languages

Re: Foggy disappears

Foggy loses his memory

Re: Foggy disappears

he draws a napkin battle plan 4

Re: minifill: a rose in a fisted glove (love the one you're with)

Self-harm

Re: She-Devil

Re: Foggy disappears

Re: Foggy disappears

Re: Young!Matt had orthodontic headgear

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

Re: Foggy disappears

Re: minifill: a rose in a fisted glove (love the one you're with)

Re: Matt/Foggy - Foggy gets injured

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

[FILL] Sympathetic Substitutions 1/3

[FILL] Sympathetic Substitutions 2/3

[FILL] Sympathetic Substitutions 3/3

Re: [FILL] Sympathetic Substitutions 3/3

Re: minifill: a rose in a fisted glove (love the one you're with)

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