daredevilkink | Daredevil Prompt Post #11

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Daredevil Prompt Post #11

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"You don't have to wear spandex," Matt replies with a chuckle. "I mean, you could break the mold and be your own kind of superhero."

"I could, maybe."

"What do you think you want to do after high school?" Matt asks. "I mean, aside from finding a better alternative to the superhero suit, of course."

Frank lays back on the ground, staring up at the ceiling. Somehow able to tell what he's doing, Matt does the same.

"I'm probably going to join the military in one way or another," Frank says. "I talked to a recruiter earlier this year. I'm not sure what branch, but I think it's probably my best bet. I'm not that great in school subjects, and I really want to make some kind of a difference out there."

"That's really cool," Matt murmurs. "I think that you'd be good at that. Defending people. You're good at keeping people safe..."

"What about you?" Frank asks. He isn't really sure that he wants to talk about the future, because it's a terrifying subject and he's very unsure where he'll end up. "What do you want to be?"

"I want to help defend people too," Matt murmurs. His voice is quiet, and Frank can tell that he's sad. "I want to make sure that stuff like what happened to my dad never happens again. I want to make sure that bad guys don't get away with what they do."

"So, like a cop or something?"

From the corner of his eye, he sees the blind boy sit up and shoot him a look.

"Seen many blind cops lately?"

Frank winces a little. His comment had definitely been stupid. Of course the kid couldn't be a cop, not in a traditional sense.

"Sorry..."

"It's okay," Matt says, as Frank sits up and leans against the end of the bed. "I know what I want to do anyway, but it's going to probably be very hard."

"What is it?"

"I want to be a lawyer. I've done some research on them. I can be a defense lawyer and protect people. I can help put away people who deserve it. There's a lot of crime here..."

"Sure is," Frank said, with a bitter laugh. "I think you'd make a pretty awesome lawyer, Matt."

Matt positively beams at Frank's words. Frank can tell that they mean a lot to the kid, and that makes him feel pretty important.

"Thanks," he says.

"I may need a lawyer in the future," Frank says with a laugh. "Especially if people keep deserving it."

"I'll defend you," Matt teases. "Promise."

Alternate link - http://archiveofourown.org/works/6720892

Sounding?

Frank did not take kindly to his situation. Two hours later, he was sitting up in Matt's bed, at least, but his physical well-being improving did not improve his memory impairment in the slightest.

"I don't get this," Frank said, looking from Matt to Karen desperately. "So, here I am. I don't know who I am, or anything about myself. I don't know either of you, but you're looking at me like mother hens, so you must care about me."

"We do care, Frank," Karen said earnestly. "Really...we care a lot..."

"Well, that's nice. How do I even know you?"

Karen stammered. It was obvious to Matt that she wanted to tell the truth, because telling the truth was in Karen's nature, but at the same time, she realized just as much as he did that the truth might not be best for someone in a delicate state. They didn't even know what had led to his strange amnesia. They didn't want to make things worse.

"We're friends," Matt said, shooting Karen a look. That was all that Frank needed to know until his memory came back to him. "We're friends, and you called Karen. You sounded worried and hurt, so we tracked you down and found you lying in a ditch."

"Okay," Frank murmured. "My head really hurts. Do I need a doctor or somethin' like that?"

"Matt..." Karen whispered next to him.

"I have a friend who can help us," Matt said, trying to keep things calm. He felt strange, because he wasn't exactly lying to Frank. He just happened to be omitting things that would clue Frank into who he was. He knew that he sounded super suspicious. "I'm going to call her. Why don't you and Karen talk for a bit, and see if that jogs your memory?"

Matt then took the opportunity to get out of there and call Claire.

Claire was less than amused when Matt explained the situation. She listened, quietly, but the moment that he stopped speaking, she announced her skepticism.

"Do you know how rare something like that is, Matt?" Claire asked, and he imagined she was scowling. "I mean - he really asked you who he was? You couldn't get any more cliche than that if you tried."

"Trust me, I know," Matt responded. "God, Claire, I know."

"What are you going to do about him?" she asked. "You should really probably call the police, Matt. Let them take it from here..."

"I can't..." Matt began. "I just can't."

"Why not?"

"Because he doesn't remember," Matt stated firmly. "He's literally freaking out because the name Frank means nothing to him. That means that he's got nothing. He doesn't know he's The Punisher, that's for sure. I can't let him be dragged off by police like that..."

Claire's tone softened.

"You're right Matt," she said somberly. "You're right..."

"Can you come by at all?"

Claire sighed, heavily.

"Yeah, I'll be over in a little while. Just watch out for any signs that he's going unconscious, having a seizure, anything like that. Keep him up, talking and focused and I'll be there as soon as I can."

Inspired by this line from comics!Matt about Elektra's heartbeat:

"... steady, strong. I was always so proud of myself when I could get it above sixty beats a minute."

Karen is a little surprised that Foggy is calling her on Sunday morning. It wasn’t that she and Foggy don’t talk or grab drinks (anywhere but Josie’s, where Matt’s shadow lurked), but they usually texted. And they had just decided yesterday to do drinks (“get plastered,” according to Foggy) at this new bar near HCB. And what was Foggy doing up already? Maybe it was butt dial? Best to pick up in case he was actually trying to get ahold of her.

“Hey Foggy, what’s up?” Karen chirped. At the sound of Foggy’s uneven breathing and the ubiquitous sound of “hospital,” Karen felt her heart speed up. “Foggy? Foggy, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong? What happened to you?”

There’s still no response, but Karen hears Foggy take a deep breath.

“ ‘s not me, Karen, ‘s Matt,” Foggy manages to get out with shaky breaths.

“Holy fuck, he’s dead?” Karen’s never really had a good filter, but what else would Matt be in the hospital for? From what she can tell he’s had some pretty serious injuries (like the “car accident”) and never been to the hospital. Why else would Foggy be there or calling her or so upset.

“No, no. He’s not dead, but he tried…” Foggy trails off and Karen can’t finish the sentence. Tried what? Tried to refuse to go to the hospital? Tried to do something idiotic as Daredevil? Tried to... oh God. No. Matt wouldn’t.

“He tried what Foggy?” Karen hears how shrill her voice is. She doesn’t mean to freak out on Foggy, but this cannot be happening. There’s no way he tried… that.

Foggy’s voice hitches and then, through soft sobs, “He tried to kill himself, Karen.”

Karen’s phone hit’s the floor just before she does. She can hear Foggy calling out, asking if she’s okay, but of course she isn’t okay, neither is he. Matt might have lied and pushed them away and dropped off the grid, but this?

The whiskey is burning her throat before she fully processes that she’s grabbed the bottle. The sting of the alcohol brings her back to awareness; she grabs her phone and apologizes to Foggy.

“What, um, what hospital are you at? Is there anything you need?” What a stupid question. There’s any number of things they both need and it’s not something she can pick up on her way to the hospital. To visit their friend. Who tried to commit suicide.

“Metro-general. ER waiting room. Not really anything you can bring, but if you could come that would really help me and I think, um, I think Matt will appreciate it if – when he wakes up.”

Karen assures Foggy she’ll be there as soon as possible. She grabs her purse, tossing her phone in, grabs her keys, and leaves her apartment in the sweats and t-shirt she had been lounging around in. On the cab ride to the hospital all she can think is “how did this happen?”

Before the cab has even come to a full stop, Karen throws open her door, tosses cash up to the cabbie and sprints up to the door searching for signs directing her to the ER waiting room. She’s trying to move as quickly as she can but it feels like she’s fighting through molasses. No matter how quickly she gets there it won’t be fast enough and yet, she doesn’t want to get there, doesn’t know if she can handle this.

“Karen!” Foggy’s shout tells her that she’s made it. Her stomach feels full of lead.

“Oh my God, Foggy!” Karen throws herself into his arms, sobs wracking her body. They hold each other for a few moments and just cry. A kindly older nurse brings them a pack of tissues and presses them into Karen’s hand with a sad smile.

Once they're both a bit calmer Karen knows she needs to find out more, but she simultaneously knows that finding out more is going to hurt like hell and, sometimes, as the old adage goes, ignorance is bliss.

“So, um, what happened?”

Foggy draws a deep breath and prepares to tell this story for the fourth time in the past hour.

“Apparently Matty’s been going to Mass religiously,” they both gave a watery chuckle at the bad pun, “he’s been going regularly since, you know, everything happened.” Karen nods, it makes sense that Matt would rely more heavily on the church during a difficult time. “He didn’t show up today. His priest called me because he knew that things were bad. He knew Matt was alone, had hoped we’d made up, but also worried that Matt had done something stupid. He was right.”

Foggy takes a beat to sip water, blow his nose, and try to wipe away the stream of tears that seem to have been steadily falling since finding Matt.

“When I got to Matt’s apartment, I knew. I just knew. I could, you know, smell the blood the minute I opened the door. And I found him on his bed. He had… he had slit his wrists.”

Foggy’s breath had hitched and Karen rubs his back and starts to take exaggerated breaths, hoping he would match her; hopes she can at least help him a little. She knows that no matter how hard this was for her it had to be a thousand times worse for Foggy. He had known Matt for so long. They were practically brothers.

“He had slit his wrists and there were cuts everywhere, Karen, he’s been hurting himself for months. Probably since…”

They’re both holding each other and sobbing again, an uncontrolled, ugly sound.

“There was so much blood, it was everywhere and… he left this.”

Foggy produces the note from his pocket. He doesn’t know what possessed him to grab it as the paramedics were rolling Matt out, but he needed it. He needed this thing that Matt had left for him. Somewhere in his mind he felt that if he just kept this part of Matt with him then Matt couldn’t leave him. So he had clutched the blood-soaked note through the whole ambulance ride while beseeching Matt’s God not to let him die, please God, you can’t take him away from me.

“Foggy, he, he can’t have thought this,” Karen stutters out, turning the note over and over in her hand. “He can’t have thought we would be,” she chokes on the word, “without him. He has to know that we loved him, no matter how angry we were.”

“He probably really did believe we'd be better off without him. He was sick Karen, but he hadn’t had an issue with his depression since school. It had been years. I never imagined… I never thought that it could, that this could happen. I failed him. Karen, this is my fault. I should have checked in on him. I shouldn’t have cut him out so completely. Everyone always leaves him Karen. I should have known. I should have known… I should have…” Foggy's voice trails off, as if he has no more energy to even speak.

Dropping his head into his hands, Foggy’s whole body shakes with his grief. Karen tries to assure him it’s not his fault, because of course it isn’t, but it doesn’t help. It only seems to agitate Foggy, so she stops talking, just pulls Foggy close to her and rest her head on his shoulder.

Matt could be dying or dead right now. It’s all Karen can think and she imagines the same thought has been plaguing Foggy since they took Matt away from him.

And they wait.

This is really beautiful. You get perfectly into the head of people dealing with a loved one's suicide attempt.

MALCOLM IS JUST THE KIND OF PERSON THAT MATT NEEDS IN HIS LIFE TO SLAP SOME SENSE INTO HIM.

Devil’s Night – One Year Later

The pale moon is high and full in the sky, swallowed whole by the storm-dark clouds. Shepherded by their anxious parents, the last little trick-or-treater scurried home hours ago, the last straggling drunk college students in their skimpy costumes are staggering back to their halls, and now more malicious souls creep through the night playing their dark games.

Brett Mahoney should be on patrol. They know separate three gangs are taking advantage of the confusion to bring in large shipments of drugs and there’s already been five robberies. But instead Brett’s tucked away at the back of the bullpen staring down at the silver flask in the bottom drawer of his desk. He did go out but the gaudy costumes, ghoulish decorations and rowdy high spirits had driven him back into the sanctuary of his shadowed station.

It’s all too similar to last year. It could be last year, when he took a call because he knew the address and drove over to find his childhood friend sprawled out in the street broken and dying. Foggy had barely been conscious, he’d blinked a couple of times at Brett and let out a soft sigh of a word that Brett only recognized because he knew Foggy was begging for his husband. Then Foggy died there in the street, Murdock’s name his last breath, and all Brett could do for him was reach out with a shaky hand and close Foggy’s eyes for the final time.

Gun tight in in his fist, Brett run up four flights of stairs, heart pounding loud in his ears – and was too late again. Murdock was splayed out on the coffee table like an obscene center-piece, ink-dark blood dripped over ash-white skin.

Brett pressed two fingers to his bruised throat and found a faint thready fading pulse. He grabbed the blanket from over the back of couch, the normality of the soft fuzzy cream wool under his hands steadying him until he looked back at Murdock and froze. Absurdly the thought twisted through his mind that he couldn’t touch Murdock because he’d get the blanket dirty. The more relevant objection that he didn’t know how to touch Murdock without hurting him held him in place. There was so much blood he couldn’t work out where he could apply pressure to staunch it, or even if he could.

It seemed he stood there for hours watching Murdock bleed out but it could only have been moments before the sharp wail of the ambulance shocked him into motion. He draped the blanket over Murdock in a pathetic attempt to ward off the patiently waiting death, spun on his heel, and hurried away to fetch the ambulance crew.

He risked one backward glance – the blanket was already stained rusty with Murdock’s blood.

Brett shakes himself violently, emerging from his memories with a frantic gasp for air, heart stuttering his chest. He decides screw it, he’s been sober five months, he can risk a drink. Sliding onto his knees, he snatches up his silver flask, spins the top with practiced fingers and takes a gulp, raw whiskey making his throat burn and his eyes sting.

Murdock, stubborn little shit that he was, managed to live another thirty hours. Brett stayed with him, almost jumping out of his skin when Murdock’s body spasmed, his hand clenching down on Brett’s and his sightless eyes flew open, staring blank and empty at the ceiling. Brett has no idea how, because Murdock was blind and there was no chance to say anything, but he’s still convinced that half a second of consciousness was enough for Murdock to realize Foggy was gone, because with one harsh exhale he breathed out the last of his life and his body died as it slumped back against the too clean sheets.

Brett takes another slug of whiskey as he remembers what happened next, or rather what didn’t happen. When he staggered down to the station, still groggy even after sleeping away the day, he found that while he’d waited those long hours at the hospital his co-workers – not colleagues, not friends, never again – had wrapped up the case as violent home invasion. Some poor homeless guy too spun out on drugs to even know what day it was had confessed and taken a plea deal to avoid trial. All wrapped up so nice and neat all that was missing was a big shiny bow.

He may have punched some people then, but was just patted on the head, sent home on leave, and allowed to come back when it was clear he wasn’t going to rock the boat. Brett had just nodded along. He’d have been happy to tip the whole boat over, but what good would that do, he’d only get shot in the back for his trouble, and nothing else would change. It was better to keep his head down and eyes open and maybe he’d get a chance.

At least that was what he tells himself every day to justify not fighting. He hadn’t taken Fisk’s money but he might as well have done and somedays he can’t stand living in his own skin. He leans back against the wall and stares up at the black clouded sky as whiskey and tears burn through him.

As he watches, for a just moment, the ghostly light of the moon breaks through the darkness.

Matt is very serious about saving himself for marriage, but Frank just won't quit trying to tempt him.

Give me sexually frustrated Matt and amused Frank please!

Just a good old fashioned 'Fuck it' Fic: I would LOVE if someone were to write a fic where Matt just takes a moment to think about everything and realises in a small way, stick was right. Friends are (really fucking great) sometimes a bit of a hassle. ( With Matt always feeling guilty when foggy or Karen show concern for his escalating wounds and bruises) and having to explain himself to foggy whenever he puts on the mask starts getting frustrating. Then Matt goes 'Fuck it' and cuts off all ties with his friends (Including claire because matt finds a (shadier) doctor who stitches him up ( but maybe verbally abuses him from time to time and matt just takes it cause he thinks he deserves it, and claire knows whats going on cause the doctor works at her hospital and tends to treat the poorer patients like shit) and Matt lives his life as a hermit who kicks ass and has his own firm, based online. Maybe add a sweet little part where he quits Nelson and Murdock , make it real dramatic and lots of Sassy! Matt please (Mainly cause Matt wants his friends to hate him so they don't try to re-connect with him) and Matt's all like " I'm a grown ass Murdock who don't need no Nelson!" Also an epilogue where each former friend/acquaintance of matt's See's him out and about, maybe as Daredevil, maybe as Matt 'no self preservation skills' Murdock but they see him as individual's (Or group if it's some get together at Josie's (causemattdrivesallhisfriendstodrink)) but to see their reactions, that would be nice(It would give me life actually) Thank you so much for taking the time to look at this prompt cause now my idea is in someone else's brain too. ( Subtle mind control anyone?)

Oh, completely. I want that to happen so, so badly after watching the Communication Fail Trainwreck in S2.

Yes, yes YES. Especially because Matt's a terrible terrible eavesdropper, and even worse at Minding His Own Goddamn Business. Yesss.

Ohhhh whoa. This is so good!!

Am I an awful human being for wanting this? You decide!
Prompt: Matt was ripped apart in season 2 so I would love to see some payback ( this is based in the middle of season 2,so no dead Electra) Matt is getting sick and tired of explaining himself to foggy and Karen about his vigilante pass times(Karen knows because dammit she has wonderful detective skills and alcohol, which is a grand way of saying Karen got foggy drunk because she wanted to be in the loop for once and foggy spilled everything) And Electra is not making anything better by subtly Manipulating Matty to do Un-Murdocky things like killing these criminal lowlives and joining her and stick. So eventually Matt gets pushed too far, he Snaps ( in an extraordinary fashion) and beats a mob boss to death for shooting a little girl in the face (Or something just as, if not more so evil) of couse matt feels hella guilty afterwards but Electra manipulates him and twists him around her finger so much he doesn't care, and sticks happy, Electra's ecstatic, but Karen and foggy are not.(Claire can be a neutral, not caring what Matt does as long as he's making hell's kitchen a safer place, kind of person in this fic) so Karen and foggy start getting into more arguments with Matt when they find out (and Matt doesn't say a word, he just takes it) Until one day Electra walks into the office with a ( very expensive) leather collar and clips it onto a (Totally preening) Matt who quits the firm while terrifying foggy and Karen (The Murdock devil just BLEEDS through) then Matt and Electra leave ( maybe have hot kinky Domme!Electra and Sub!Matt sex) then Daredevil and Electra tears down hell's kitchens criminal activity and Matt is Electra's lawyer and everything is all fine and dandy for MorallyGrey!Matt Murdock/Dark!Matt Murdock.
+10000 if he works with the Punisher on a few things and Frank's smug cause he was right about the whole 'One bad day away from being me' thing
+20000 for Frank joining Matt & Electra during sexy times
+30000 for Claire/Electra bonding times
+13000000 for Matt being a sassy little shit the entire fic (Ooooh that ryhmes!)

Hey, quickly:

Please:

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

2. use more paragraphs/spaces. It would make your prompts far easier to read and understand.

This is amazing.
Brett's frustration and loss of his friends led him to become something he never expected and he's ashamed of himself.

I bet if Foggy si to come back he will tell him not to worry taht Matt will take of everything while eh ask Bree how Bess is doing and if she wants some cigars.

In the discussion we also agreed that Matt would be pretty powerless in this forced marriage, so even if Foggy was keeping tabs on Matt and offers to marry him Matt's going to have to be worried about how Foggy would use the power this gave him.

Agreed on all points--though the logistics of suicide by cop (though I completely agree with the reasoning; I think Matt would think of it that way) would mean it would be difficult to avoid potential repercussions for Foggy and Karen, as Matt's identity would be revealed. (Or people re-opening every case he's ever had a hand in.)
He could possibly make a sacrifice play as a civilian, though that would probably have to be circumstantial. Someone else pointed out the religious issues involved in Matt consciously thinking of suicide, and if he's deliberately going out and picking fights as a civilian that kind of breaks even the front he might have going internally that he's not suicidal.
...and can I say how happy it makes me to hear other fans really thinking these kind of themes through with kindness and sensitivity? --especially while dealing with my own depression, and as someone who was previously suicidal and never dealt with it. Fandom as therapy, man. <3

Matt has to stay on scene and help the emergency responders. Could be digging people out of a building collapse, is keeping someone from bleeding out, etc.

Bonus for Brett or Claire having to pretend they've never seen him before.

TRIGGER WARNING for sexual abuse of a minor.
_________________________

Tanya keeps her mouth shut while Rock shows her off, moans while the clients take their money’s worth from her, and thanks Rock for the roof over her head when they’re done. She takes it and takes it and takes it, and when Rock and his crew sleep overhead on the main floor, she pulls her ratty mattress off the bed frame, cracks off one of the supporting planks, and whittles it into a stake.

She’ll turn thirteen in two days, and for the first time since Rock saved her from the streets she’s going to celebrate.

Only that’s not what happens.

The day before she turns thirteen, the front door, situated directly above her, slams open, and heavy, slow footsteps *thud thud* into the living room. Muffled, aborted shouts from Rock’s crew reach her, and then the *pop pop pop* of handguns. Tanya scrambles for her stake under the mattress and clutches it tightly to her chest. *Dakka dakka dakka* -- rapid fire, something she’s never heard before, something new.

An explosion rocks the house and the basement door crashes open, and dust falls from the shuddering ceiling. Tanya hides behind the musty armchair in the corner, splinters from the stake cutting into her skinny, shaking hands. She watches the warm light of flames dance across the concrete walls of the staircase, and she wrinkles her nose at the smell of burnt wood and flesh. She’s smelled worse.

A body falls through the door and knocks against the wall -- Rock, face bloody, a limp in his step and a phone to his ear. He stumbles down the stairs. “--the fuckin’ Punisher man, you gotta get the hell over here -- yeah, I will, I will, gotta get the girl first. No -- I don’t give a shit what you think; she matters to me.” He snaps the burner phone shut and scans the dingy basement, worry lines deeper than usual. Tanya ducks behind the chair, and someone screams overhead. She recognizes that voice. He doesn’t sound that way when he comes. She almost smiles.

“Sweetheart, Tanya, we gotta go,” Rock says, coaxing and gentle, like he sounded when they first met. Flames crackle overhead, and more rapid-fire hurts Tanya’s ears. There’s too much sound -- she can’t locate Rock in the room.

“Baby, come on.” His voice is closer now. “I know it sounds scary up there, but I promise I’ll keep you safe, okay?”

Safe.

I’ll keep you safe.

Safe. Safe. Safe safe safe safe safe. Safe means a roof over your head and food to eat. Safe means pain and stretching too wide and can’t-breathe-can’t-breathe-please-let-me-breathe and hot tobacco breath in her face and hands on her throat. Safe means apologizing when she’s too tired to perform well; safety means you-can-do-it-baby-just-a-little-more. Safe means tears and numbness and soothing hugs from Rock after the client’s left. Safe means earning your keep.

“There you are,” Rock says, limping around the chair, and Tanya turns thirteen tomorrow but she feels like she’s turning a hundred, like she’s withering. “Come on, baby girl.”

He pets her dry, too long hair with bloody hands, and he reaches for her arm. “What have you got there?” he asks, and he sounds so kind and more people scream and she’s not safe but Rock’s supposed to be safe--

He reaches for the stake.

She jams the stake into the bleeding thigh of his injured leg. “What the--?” He grunts, face twisting in anger, and the house is burning down above her and the men have stopped screaming and he’s never going to touch her again even if it means they both burn to ashes in this hell of a basement.

She stabs him in the throat, and she’s not strong enough to pull the stake out. He scrabbles at it, eyes wide and afraid, and Tanya backs away, numb.

She watches him as he crumples to his knees. She watches as he gurgles around the stake like a mouth around a cock. This time he’s the one who has to take it.

The ceiling creaks, and the light of the flames grows brighter.

She stares at Rock.

She stares at the body.

Footsteps thud-thud down the rickety staircase, and Tanya’s back hits the wall. There’s nowhere to run from the man with the skull on his chest.

The Punisher. She’s heard about him from the news when Rock allowed her on the main floor. She’s heard Rock’s men whisper and warn each other. He’s smaller than she imagined.

“Hey, kiddo,” he says, and his voice isn’t as low as she expected.

The concrete of the wall scrapes against her back. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m so sorry.” She sniffs, but she doesn’t cry. They don’t like it when she cries.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” he says, coming closer, and she slides away from him.

“I’m so sorry.” Her eyes feel hot and itchy. She’s not going to cry. She won’t. She wont’t. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

He keeps coming closer, eyes flicking up at the ceiling when it groans. He holds his hands up, palms facing out. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I’m sorry--” Her back hits the corner, and tears spill. She clutches her hands to her chest, making herself small, keeping her head down so it’ll hurt less. “I’m--” she hiccups. “I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want--”

He kneels down in front of her, and she stops.

“Hey, hey, kiddo, you’re gonna be okay. The only thing I’m gonna do is get you out of this house, and then we’ll find you somewhere safe--

“No!” She darts away, but he grabs her by the arm. “Let me go, let me go! You’re not taking me anywhere!” Her heart races and she has to get away. She has to get away.

Something in the ceiling *cracks*, and the Punisher’s hand tightens around her arm. She sobs. “Jesus Christ,” she hears him say, and the next thing she knows, he’s tossing her over his shoulder. She beats at him and squirms and claws at the peeling wallpaper while he thud-thuds through the burning house, and the smoke makes her throat burn and her eyes water even more.

The next thing she knows, he’s setting her down outside on the lawn. Sirens wail in the distance. He steps away from her but keeps a hand on her shoulder, grip firm enough to keep her from running away.

“I’m gonna make this fast, kid, and I’m gonna be blunt,” he says. His voice drops to a mumble, and it takes Tanya a minute to figure out what he’s saying. “I ain’t a damn therapist” He raises his voice again and holds up the stake. It wakes some small part of Tanya up. She doesn’t even remember him stopping to get it. “When the cops get here, they’re gonna ask about the body in the basement. You tell them it was me, got it?”

She blinks up at him, and he sighs and kneels down in front of her again. Flames engulf the house now, hot enough to warm her even from four bed-lengths away.

“Repeat after me: The Punisher killed him.”

She blinks again.

“Say it.”

Some part of her, the awake part, says, “The Punisher killed him.”

“And then he got me out.”

“And then he got me out.”

“Again. All together now.”

She swallows. “The Punisher killed him, and then he got me out.”

The Punisher claps her on the shoulder. “That a girl. Think you can remember that?”

She nods, and he nods back. “Good luck, kid.”

The sirens get louder, and he pushes himself up and tosses the stake through a smashed window of the house, into the flames. Satisfied, he walks towards an old black car parked on the street. “Wait!” says Tanya, body strangely cold despite the heat of the house.

He stops and looks back at her, firelight twisting across his face.

“Why didn’t you kill me?” she asks.

His jaw tightens. “I don’t kill kids.” Something in his face goes all soft and earnest, like Tanya’s old foster mom’s used to. “And you don’t deserve to die, you understand?”

She nods, but he shakes his head.

“No, I want you to say it. Whatever they made you do, whatever you did, you don’t deserve to die, okay?”

She nods.

“Say it.”

“I don’t….” The sirens get louder, and, throat tight, she looks away, shaking her head.

“Kid, come on. You say it, and then I’ll leave.”

She swipes a hand darkened by ashes across her face. “I don’t deserve to die,” she whispers. It feels like a lie.

“You’re a good kid. You remember that.”

She watches him until his car disappears around the corner, right before the first fire truck arrives.

She’ll never see him again, but she’ll never forget him, either.

__________________________
I'll see yall in hell

...And for them to be protective of him too. Maybe because he *is* blind and because they are aware he expects to be left behind. I want angst but Matt finding what he needs with real friends.

Wow, this was a really good character study on Frank. I love it.

Awesome fic, anon. Really good characterization for Tanya - a really good representation of a child sex slave - and a great character study for Frank.

Ohh, I have something like this but set after Season One...maybe I can retool it. Love me some sleepy!Matt

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Page 29 of 165

Daredevil Prompt Post #11

Fic - Those Who Deserve It - 6/6 - Frank&Matt friendship - teenage AU

Re: Fic - Those Who Deserve It - 6/6 - Frank&Matt friendship - teenage AU

Re: Matt/Frank, forced orgasms as punishment

Fill - Built on Memories - 1b/? - Matt/Frank

Matt/Elektra, PWP

Fill: leave me out with the waste (this is not what I do) 4/?

Re: Fill: leave me out with the waste (this is not what I do) 4/?

Re: Matt shares office space, gen/any

Fill: Matt/Foggy The Crow AU. Major character death. Self harm 1/3

Frank/Matt, Matt is a horny virgin

Fic request/prompt

Re: Matt and new friends

Re: Matt shares office space, gen/any

Re: Fill: Matt/Foggy The Crow AU. Major character death. Self harm 1/3

Fic request/prompt

Re: Fic request/prompt

Re: Fill: Matt/Foggy The Crow AU. Major character death. Self harm 1/3

Re: Repost: Marriage Law: Matt is married off (for his own good) (Forced marriage)

Re: Gen, Matt tries to take his life (Discussion of specifics, possible triggers)

Daredevil assists emergency responders, gen/any

[FILL] Re: Unexpectedly kind Frank - scary reputation

Re: Matt and new friends

Re: [FILL] Re: Unexpectedly kind Frank - scary reputation

Re: [FILL] Re: Unexpectedly kind Frank - scary reputation

Re: Matt's not sleeping (Matt/Foggy)