#and matt thinks she's on his side until he winds up with foggy and Karen and jane and jen around a table

[pastafossa]

i just know jane, jen, karen and foggy would be besties in the trt universe and give matt so much shit (with love ofc)

THEY WOULD BE THOUGH. And I'll confirm I'm trying to figure out now how to bring Jen in because I adore her and I think they'd all get on like crazy (fun fact - already decided Jen and Ciro are mortal legal petty enemies from her time at the LA DA's office, they know each other, they troll each other, Jen regularly finds ways to get Ciro's car towed, she woke up to a dozen chickens in her yard, all of which will just add to the hilarity).

Matt has NO idea what he's in for.

[carry-the-sky]

merry and bright

summary

Foggy has seen his fair share of crazy shit— alien portals, ninjas, dudes with glowing fists and bulletproof skin, ninjas again. His best friend—who’s blind, by the way—spends his nights in a red spandex suit leaping across buildings and running down criminals. Foggy can’t say he’s used to any of it yet, but he’s getting there.

Well, he was. Frank Castle standing in the entryway to Josie’s might just be the final straw.

[read the entire fic on ao3]

Foggy is honestly debating whether or not to just beeline it over to the bar right now to get the good stuff, but— Frank’s still over there, so instead he settles for taking a longer-than-necessary pull on his beer.

“Still nothing from Matt?” Marci asks, pulling Karen into a hug.

Foggy shakes his head. “Nah. You know how he loves to be fashionably late.”

Marci hums with— disapproval, maybe? She’s always been a little tricky to read when it comes to Matt. Foggy’s lost count of the times he’s almost slipped up and spilled the big secret; part of him wishes he could, mostly because it would help explain a lot. But it’s not his to tell. Things are finally, finally somewhat normal again with Matt, or at least, normal for them. Now that a certain murderous ex-client of theirs is in the mix, Foggy’s not sure which of his two best friends’ extracurriculars will give him an ulcer first.

“Oh, and by the way,” Marci is saying, “the guy at the bar— Pete, right?” She lifts her chin in Frank’s direction. “Nice work, Page.”

“I’m standing right here,” Foggy says, only half-offended. The guy does clean up pretty well.

“Oh, come on, Foggy Bear.” Marci winds an arm around his shoulder and pecks him on the cheek. “You know I love you. I’m just admiring the view.”

“Thanks, I think,” Karen says, settling into her seat. “But we’re just friends.”

“Right,” Marci says, drawing out the word. “Foggy and I were ‘just friends’ for a while, too.”

Karen rolls her eyes, but her mouth crinkles at the corners. “So, I see you finally won Josie over,” she says, eyeing Marci’s martini. 

“Must be my sparkling personality,” Marci says, flipping her hair in an exaggerated motion. “But hey, don’t change the subject. We’re talking about you and Mr. Intense Eyes over there. I want to know everything, so spill. Where’d you two meet?”

“Shot up a hospital,” Frank says, coming up behind them like he’s some sort of horror movie villain pulling a jump scare on his unsuspecting victims. Foggy thinks he deserves some sort of medal for not screaming like a small child.

“We met while I was working on his case,” Karen says, waiting until Frank has set their drinks down before digging an elbow into his side. His mouth twists into a grin.

Jesus, Foggy’s not nearly inebriated enough for this.

Again, Frank seems to read his mind. He pushes a bottle and an empty glass across the table, nodding at Foggy. “Bartender said you looked like you could use that.”

“The bartender is correct,” Foggy says, wasting no time in pouring himself a drink and taking a long swig. The stuff burns all the way down, and Foggy can practically feel it stripping the taste buds off his tongue. God bless Josie and her top-shelf mystery liquor. 

“Wait—” Marci turns to Foggy. “He’s a client of yours?”

Foggy pauses, glass halfway to his lips. Frank’s face is neutral, but Foggy can see his leg bouncing under the table. That’s his tell; Foggy remembers it from the trial, fingers twitching at his side while the rest of him was stoic as a statue. The longer the trial dragged on, the worse it got.

Holy shit, Frank’s actually nervous. Because of him. 

Foggy won’t lie; it feels good to hold all the cards against someone with thirty-seven—that he knows of—counts of murder under their belt. Not that Foggy’s going to do anything with them. He has precisely nothing to gain from outing the guy as the Punisher, and that’s putting aside the fact that he would never in a million years do that to Karen. 

Doesn’t mean he can’t have a little fun, though.

“Former client,” Foggy says, setting his glass down on the table. “It’s been a minute since we’ve caught up. What are you doing for work these days, Pete?” 

Amusement dances across Frank’s face. “Construction, mostly. It’s good work. You’d know all about that, yeah, counselor?” 

Okay, shots fired. Except now he’s picturing Frank in a hardhat or driving an excavator and his brain short circuits for what feels like the eightieth time tonight. This is the man who turned an entire gang to minced meat, who threw his trial literally five steps from the finish line. It may have been ages ago, but Frank coming completely unhinged, contorted rage darkening his face, the vicious growl of his voice bouncing off the chamber’s walls— all of that’s etched in permanent marker in Foggy’s long-term memory. The scariest part was how easily the anger exploded out of him, like he’d been itching for the excuse to go apeshit.

A person can’t just turn that off, right?

Yet here he is, just another regular dude as far as everyone in this bar is concerned. Still intimidating as hell, obviously, but he doesn’t look like he has any intentions of flying into a murderous rage, so that’s a plus, right? And Karen— Karen seems to trust him, and Foggy trusts Karen, apparently against his better judgement.

Foggy hikes his shoulders, then makes sure he’s looking at Frank dead-on before he opens his mouth. “What can I say? I like helping people. Even the ones who don’t know how to help themselves.” 

Frank doesn’t say anything for a long moment, just stares at him with a blank, flinty-eyed expression, and Foggy does his best to hold his gaze without blinking. Okay, so maybe he shouldn’t be needling the guy who can snap him in half like a toothpick, but whatever, he stands by what he said.

After what feels like an eternity, Frank’s mouth twitches into something approximating a smile. “You always been such a bleeding heart, Nelson?”

“Always,” Marci answers immediately. “Almost annoyingly so. He once stood me up to help supervise his niece’s Girl Scout cookie stand.”

“Hey, those cookies don’t sell themselves,” Foggy says. “And there was a trip to space camp on the table, which we won, by the way.”

“Space camp, huh?” Frank says, and it occurs to Foggy with a jolt that he maybe did something similar for his kids. Oh, God, do they actually have something in common? The thought pinwheels through him; he’s not sure if he wants to laugh or throw up.

Karen raises her drink. “To being a bleeding heart, then.” 

Foggy clinks his glass against everyone else’s, and right as he’s about to drink—because he’s still not even buzzed, which is just unacceptable, at this point—his eyes land on Frank.

Frank, who’s watching Karen. All the steel from earlier is gone; there’s a warmth in his eyes, a soft smile playing around the edges of his mouth that looks completely foreign on him. The way he’s looking at her— that’s not the way you look at someone who’s just a friend. Not even close.

Foggy downs his drink in one go, then pours himself another. 

“Should we open some presents?” Marci asks. “I’m sure Matt won’t mind if we start without him.”

Foggy nods a little too enthusiastically. He needs to do something normal, something to remind himself that this is actually a party—his party, dammit—and he’s supposed to be enjoying himself, not having an existential crisis over the fact that the city’s most dangerous vigilante is making moon eyes at his best friend.

There’s just barely enough room for all the gifts on the table. Foggy’s always played that whoever’s birthday is closest to Christmas gets to pick first, which would be Matt, if he was here. Frank’s is the next closest. 

He picks the bag closest to him, digging through a layer of tissue paper and emerging with a corkscrew in the shape of a dog. “Hell yeah,” he says, giving a thumb’s up. 

So the Punisher’s a wine guy. Neat.

It’s Marci’s turn next; without batting an eye, she reaches across the table to pluck the corkscrew out of Frank’s hands. “Sorry, Pete. That was mine. I always buy something that I want for myself so I can steal it back.” 

Karen’s mouth falls open in mild disbelief. “That’s cheating!”

“That’s strategy,” Marci says with a wink.

“So what’s stopping me from just stealing it back?” Frank asks.

Marci shakes her head. “Gifts can only be stolen once. That’s, like, the first commandment of white elephant rules.”

“That’s some fine print bullshit, is what that is,” Frank says, but he’s smirking a little as he reaches for a different gift. He pulls the wrapping paper apart to reveal a pair of reindeer antlers attached to a headband.

“Cute,” Frank grumbles, glancing at Foggy. “I’m guessing this was you?”

Foggy sips his drink. “I plead the fifth. But you do have to try them on.”

Frank just stares at Foggy for a second, probably picturing the most efficient way to strangle him. 

Foggy just shrugs in response, feeling way braver than he probably should. Thanks, mystery liquor. “Yeah, it’s white elephant commandment, uh, number five. If you’re gifted something you can wear, you have to try it on.”

The glance that Frank shoots over to Karen practically screams save me.

“Hey, rules are rules,” she says with mock seriousness. “Antlers would really tie together your whole lumberjack look, don’t you think?”

“Chrissakes,” Frank mutters under his breath, but he slides them on.

Foggy takes back everything he’s said or thought about tonight. This is the happiest he’s ever been in his entire life. 

Karen is openly beaming now. I’m sorry, she mouths at Frank before leaning in to kiss his cheek, and sure, it’s probably the alcohol that’s making Foggy feel way less concerned about her questionable taste in men, or maybe it’s because said man now looks like a disgruntled reindeer. Either way, he’ll take it.

By the time it’s his turn to open the gift that Karen brought—a sparkly avocado tree ornament, sweet—everyone’s glasses are low, so he volunteers to grab the next round and heads for the bar.

“On my tab, right?” he asks Josie, who promptly levels him with a glare that could melt glass. “C’mon, Josie, it’s the season of giving!” 

“Oh, I’ll give you something, alright,” she grumbles. Then she tips her head toward the front door. “Your better half’s here, by the way.”

Foggy frowns, because Marci’s sitting with everyone else— but when he glances at the entrance, there’s Matt, honest-to-God lurking by the doors like an enormous weirdo. He straightens up a little, like he can sense that Foggy sees him.  

Foggy blows out a slow breath. And here he was just starting to enjoy himself.

The cold hits him like a smack across the face as soon as he steps outside, sobering him up way more than he wants to be.

“What the hell, man?” Foggy says. “How long have you been standing out here?”

“You don’t want to know,” Matt replies, angling his head slightly. “Castle’s in there, right? With Karen.” 

It’s the way he says the with part that has Foggy pinching the bridge of his nose. “How did you— never mind, stupid question. Of course you already knew. Yeah, he’s here, yeah, he came with Karen, and yeah, if I think about it for more than two seconds I start to feel a migraine coming on, but— it’s actually been okay. We’re having a nice time.”

There’s a strange blend of emotion working across Matt’s face, but mostly he just looks tired. “This is really happening, isn’t it?”

“It’s insane, I know. But tonight— I really need tonight, buddy. You two wanna beat the hell out of each other, great. Knock yourselves out. Just do it tomorrow, okay? I just want one normal night out with my friends.”

Matt scoffs. “You call this normal?”

“Well, no one’s getting shot at, so I’m gonna take what I can get,” Foggy says. When Matt doesn’t reply, he pulls out the big guns. “Forget about me, at least do it for Karen. She seems happy, Matt. Happier than I’ve seen her in a long time.”

Something in Matt’s expression cracks, and he bobs his head in a tiny nod. 

Foggy claps him on the shoulder. “You’ll feel better after a drink or five,” he says. “Ask me how I know. Also, Josie started a tab just for us.”

“A Christmas miracle,” Matt says with a wry smile as they head inside. “So, he’s ‘Pete’ now, huh?”

“Yep. I wasn’t too sure about it at first, but I gotta say, it’s growing on me.”

Matt groans. “Kill me now.”

“That’s the spirit, buddy.”

There’s a bit of a tense moment when he and Matt approach the table—Foggy’s really glad Matt can’t see the look on Frank’s face, because even in reindeer antlers the guy still gives one mean stink eye—but honestly, Foggy would be a little concerned if things weren’t tense. He knows he’s not the only one remembering the last time they were all in the same room together. So much has changed since then. It’s laughably hard to believe that he and Matt were ever those scrappy, wide-eyed lawyers who stood their ground against Reyes and took on a trial way above their nonexistent paygrade. None of them are the people they were a year ago.

Foggy’s still not sure what to make of any of it, but the revelation feels like something heavy has been lifted off his chest.

It’s technically Matt’s turn, and because the universe has one twisted sense of humor, Frank’s gift is the last one left. Matt puts on a good show fumbling with the tissue paper as he pulls what looks to be an article of clothing from the bag. He holds it up.

It’s a red sweatshirt. Emblazoned in blocky white letters across the front are the words I’M NOT DAREDEVIL.

Foggy’s eyes dart to Karen. She’s staring at the piece of clothing like she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing, one hand over her mouth. Then a stuttered sort of wheezing sound comes out of her, and Foggy realizes she’s trying not to laugh.

Matt’s hands are working now, skimming over the letters with practiced ease. Foggy clocks the exact moment he figures it out, mouth pinching into a thin line. For one horrifying second, Foggy thinks he might actually launch himself across the table at Frank.

But then his mouth curves, a soft chuckle breezing out of him. “Hilarious.”

“Bodega across the street from my place was selling ‘em,” Frank says, looking entirely too smug. “Figured someone here would get a kick out of it. Red’s your color, yeah?”

“So I’ve been told.”

Karen has pulled herself together a bit, but she’s still smiling wide. “You won’t know for sure unless you try it on, though,” she says.

Matt’s eyebrows hike up to his hairline. “Uh, no, I don’t think—”

“Come on, man,” Foggy interjects. “Pete’s wearing reindeer antlers.”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” Matt says, but there’s a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He’s still holding the sweatshirt, probably imagining suffocating Frank with it. But then he scrunches up the hem and lifts it up. “I want it on the record,” he says, pulling it over his head, “that I did this under extreme coercion.”

“Duly noted, counselor,” Karen says.

Matt spreads his arms wide. “How do I look?”

“Red really is your color,” Marci says.

Frank ducks his head close to Karen. “Think I’m starting to see the appeal of commandment number five,” he says, and she swats him lightly on the shoulder. Matt tilts his head in their direction, that same expression from earlier spilling across his face. Then his face seems to soften. Foggy doesn’t know how much of that is genuine, but it feels like the tiniest of olive branches.

Matt didn’t have time to grab a gift—occupational hazard on both the attorney and vigilante fronts—so Karen steals Frank’s antlers, eyes sparkling as she pulls them off his head and slides them onto her own.

“Look better on you, anyways,” Frank says softly— softly, yet another adjective Foggy would never have attributed to the man before tonight. He’s still not sure he’ll ever be able to reconcile this Frank Castle with the one he remembers, the one who does unspeakable things and scares the shit out of him, but maybe he doesn’t have to. Maybe the guy was always both, and Karen was just the first one of them to see it.

So, no, this definitely isn’t how Foggy pictured the night going. But he’s starting to think it’s okay.

Maybe all of this is okay.

.

“So, that was fun!” Marci says much later, in the cab ride home. “Make a note to invite the Punisher to more parties.”

Foggy groans, too exhausted to feign ignorance or surprise. Marci’s a hell of a lot smarter than he is— of course she figured it out. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“And pop the magical new-relationship bubble those two were living in? Come on, Fog. I’m not that heartless.”

“But weren’t you, I don’t know, freaked out? Because I was freaked out. I mean, less so once the libations kicked in, but still.”

Marci shrugs. “Maybe at first. But honestly, Karen dating Frank Castle is probably the seventh or eighth weirdest thing to happen this year, so I just went with it. Besides, they seemed really happy together.”

“Yeah, they did.” Foggy reaches for her hand, twines their fingers together. “We’re cuter, though, right? Like, objectively.”

“Oh, it’s not even a competition,” Marci agrees, resting her head on his shoulder. “Although— Frank did look pretty great in those reindeer antlers.”

“Don’t remind me. That guy could pull off a burlap sack.” 

Marci prods him in the stomach. “Now who’s admiring the view, huh?”

“Hey, I have eyes,” Foggy laughs. “I can see the appeal. Still not exactly who I’d pick to date one of my best friends, but I guess it could be worse.”

“You’re a good friend, Foggy Bear.”

“Damn right, I am,” Foggy says.

Marci laughs softly, snuggling closer to him, and he smiles down at her before turning his gaze to the city passing by outside the window. 

Nope, not a bad night at all.

[ninzied]

a kiss pressed to the top of the head.

Karen gets the call in the middle of their lunch hour.

She’s playfully tossing a fry in Foggy’s face, laughing at something he’s just said as she picks up her phone and looks down at her screen.

“It’s a Metro-General number,” she says, bemused. She looks up at Foggy and Matt. Both of them shrug. Anyone the hospital’s likely to be calling her about is already sitting right here in front of her.

“Hello?” she says into the phone. Confusion registers on her face first. And then she goes very, very quiet.

Foggy’s not able to make out what’s being said on the other line, but judging from Karen’s expression—Matt’s expression, too—it can’t be anything good.

“He what?” Karen puts a hand up to her mouth, and Foggy notices that her fingers are trembling a little. “Is he okay? Is—yes. Thank you. Yes, I’m going to head there now.” She hangs up, looking like she’s already a hundred miles away—or at least the three it will take to get to the hospital.

Matt puts a hand on Karen’s shoulder. “Foggy will drive you there,” he says.

“I will?” says Foggy. “I mean, yeah, of course I will, but what’s going on?”

Karen grabs her things, and Foggy rushes to follow suit, saying a hurried, “Thanks for lunch, I guess” to Matt, who waves them off and helps himself to one of Karen’s fries.

She’s silent in the passenger seat, gazing distractedly out the window as Foggy drives. He looks at her with growing worry, but every time he starts to speak, he’s less and less sure what to say. He’s never seen her so pale. He’s never seen her so determined to hold herself together.

There’s only one person he can think of that could get this kind of reaction from her.

The local station is on at low volume, and Foggy strains to hear anything newsworthy. But there’s nothing about shoot-outs, or robberies, or any other sort of public disturbance that could give him the information he’s looking for.

At one point, Karen reaches over and squeezes his hand. He squeezes back, and doesn’t let go until they’ve pulled into the emergency department entrance.

He ends up valet parking his car, wondering briefly to himself if he can charge it to the company card that they’d opened up last year. Considering what—or who—is waiting for them inside.

It wouldn’t be the first time, which is all he has to say about that.

A woman in scrubs looks up from her computer as they approach the front desk. “Can I help you?”

“Yes.” Karen clears her throat. “I’m here to see Pete Castiglione.”

“What’s your relation?” says the woman, searching his name on her computer screen.

Karen draws in a breath. “He, um—listed me as his emergency contact.”

The woman hands her a visitor’s badge, and then looks expectantly over at Foggy.

“I’m—his lawyer,” Foggy blurts out. He doesn’t know what’s landed Frank in here this time, but it doesn’t hurt to cover his bases. The woman raises an eyebrow, but thankfully doesn’t press him for any more details than that.

She gives them a room number and then points them through a set of double doors. They give an audible click before swinging wide open. The walk is short but tense, Karen visibly steeling herself once they’re just outside the room. It’s a sliding glass door, but the inside has been curtained shut.

“Do you want me to wait out here?” Foggy asks.

“No, it’s okay.” She gives him a wan smile. “Thank you. For coming.”

“Sure, of course,” says Foggy, attempting a small but comforting smile back.

Karen slides the door open and steps inside, drawing the curtain back behind her. Foggy follows her in, unable to keep from thinking about all the other times they’d walked into the Punisher’s hospital room together.

There are a few notable differences, this time around.

The first is that Frank Castle is not in handcuffs, nor is he strapped down to the bed. The only things attached to him are a few colored wires, snaking out from under his gown and winding up to plug into a monitor that’s beeping steadily above him.

The second is that there are no bruises on his face, when he turns toward the door and sees them there. He looks like he hasn’t gotten much sleep, but other than that, his face is clear—cleanly shaved, even. In fact, Foggy can discern no obvious injuries on him at all.

The only thing that hasn’t changed is Karen.

She walks straight up to his bed, past where the red tape would have been. Foggy sees her hand start to reach out for Frank’s, but then she’s pulling up a chair instead, taking a seat next to him.

“Hey.” Frank’s voice sounds a little rough around the edges, but that could also have something to do with the fact that he can’t seem to take his eyes off of Karen. “I didn’t—wasn’t sure I’d see you here.”

“Of course I’m here.” Karen has been making a similar assessment of his state, because the next thing she says is, “Where are you hurt? They wouldn’t give me anything specific over the phone.”

“’M fine,” he says, gesturing down at his leg. “Waiting on some x-ray reads. Didn’t even see the guy till it was too late. Wouldn’t’ve come in for this, but EMTs showed up fast, and I didn’t want to—you know. Make a scene by refusing.”

Foggy blinks, not sure if he’s just heard him right. Frank Castle. The Punisher. Didn’t want…to make a scene?

Karen is evidently thinking along the same lines as him. Her voice is carefully light as she asks, “Turning over a new leaf, Frank?”

“Something like that,” he says.

Frank’s watching her as she bites her lip and glances down at her hands for a moment.

“It’s, uh. It’s good to see you,” Frank says quietly.

Foggy can’t help but notice it’s the only thing Frank has to look away from her for. LIke he wouldn’t have been able to find the words if she’d been looking back.

“You clearly had my number,” Karen chides him, but gently. “You didn’t need to get hit by a car for an excuse to finally use it.”

The corner of Frank’s mouth turns up. “Figured you were more likely to pick up this way.”

She gives him a fondly exasperated look. “Seriously?”

“Nah.” Frank smiles sideways at her. “But this was as good a place as any to make the call. You know, for old times’ sake.”

She shakes her head at him, but her voice has gone soft when she speaks again. “And here I was about to say that we have to stop meeting like this.”

“Well, there were…” Frank swallows, looking back down at his hands. “There were some things I wanted to get right, this time.”

He looks like he wants to say more, but then his gaze shifts over to Foggy, still lingering awkwardly by the door.

“Are you, um.” Foggy holds out his hands, palms up. He finishes lamely, “In any trouble? Legally speaking?”

“Not that I know of,” says Frank. “Unless there’s something illegal about crossing the street when the light tells me to.” He squints up at Foggy, who laughs, and then immediately wonders if that was how he was supposed to react.

“Foggy was with me when they called,” Karen tells Frank. “He offered to give me a ride.”

Frank regards him a moment longer, then nods at him in a grave kind of way, which Foggy takes to mean thank you.

“It was nothing,” he says. It was Matt, actually, but Foggy doesn’t mention that part out loud. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

He goes on standing there, watching the way Frank and Karen keep not-quite making eye contact in the small glances they steal at each other. “Right,” says Foggy. “Coffee, anyone?”

As it turns out, coffee is not really a thing that the emergency department has on hand. After several uncomfortable inquiries, he winds up with a cup the size of his palm that’s filled with lukewarm water, which he sips on in the waiting room.

Matt calls when he’s halfway through a crossword puzzle, much to Foggy’s surprise.

“How is he?” asks Matt, before adding, unnecessarily, “Castle.”

“Alive and kicking,” Foggy reports. “Well—to be determined on the kicking part, he might have a broken leg. So not a lot of kicking in the foreseeable future.”

“That’s good,” comes Matt’s voice after a moment. “I mean, that he’s—you know what I mean.”

“I do,” says Foggy. “And I’ll send him your best.”

“I’m sure that would go over well.” Matt lets out an audible breath. “Send them to Karen, too, okay?”

“Of course,” says Foggy. He pauses, wondering how long Matt has known. After seeing them together today, Foggy realizes just how obvious it must have always been, and marvels that he hadn’t picked up on it sooner. “I’ll keep you posted. See you tomorrow?”

“You owe me lunch,” says Matt, and hangs up.

Foggy’s on his third crossword when the double doors open, and Karen walks out—then stops, turning around before taking another cautious step forward.

Frank comes limping out behind her, dressed in his street clothes. There’s no cast that Foggy can see, but Frank has a pair of crutches in one hand, face set in grim lines as he sinks his weight back onto his injured leg.

Karen frowns and says something to him, gesturing at the unused crutches. He starts to argue with her, but she holds out a hand, a command in every line of her body. Frank finally relinquishes one of the crutches to her, and she helps to steady him as he positions one underneath each arm.

He pulls a face, but she only smiles at him as she touches her hand to his chest.

“Better?” Foggy catches her asking.

Frank says something that makes her laugh, and the sound of it seems to catch them both by surprise. Karen lets her hands drop, folding them carefully together, and she glances down for a moment, looking almost uncertain.

Frank is gazing at her with such quiet intensity that Foggy almost slides down in his seat and raises his newspaper up to eye-level. He feels like he’s intruding. But he also feels like he can’t look away.

Frank leans in, until his cheek is resting just over Karen’s temple, on the side that Foggy can’t see. But then his mouth brushes against the top of her head as he’s ducking back, and better does not even begin to describe how they’re both looking right now.

Foggy grabs his valet ticket, and goes to have the car brought back around for them.

[kaylaxwrites]

Catch the Wind | part two

Pairing: Matt Murdock/reader Words: 1305 Summary:  You like Matt. You’re pretty sure he likes you too. Then why does he say no when you ask? What is he hiding and why won’t Foggy tell you? Request:  “How about an old friend of Foggy and Matt, who has this will they won’t they thing with Matt and she finally tries to act on it for her only to get turned down by him. His decision was because he is too focused on being Daredevil and doesn’t want her to be swept up in that so they decide to be friends, but it takes a strain on her relationship with Matt but also with Foggy too. Then like decide where it should go from there” (anon) A/N: this part didn’t quite make it to 2k words but I’ll try to make up for it in the next one. sorry again for a shitty posting schedule :/

dividers by @writeyourmindaway​

part one || ao3 || marvel masterlist 

“Do you know what’s going on with Matt?” you asked Foggy, pushing your food around with your fork. The two of you were at your favorite diner for your regular biweekly lunches.

“Uh, no. What do you mean?” Foggy’s eyes instantly darted out of the window. He fiddled with his hands. Foggy may be a lawyer, but you had known him long enough to know he knew exactly what was going on.

“I was at his place the other night and he had these bruises…” You gestured over your ribcage, indicating where Matt’s bruises were located.

“Oh. He probably fell down the stairs again. You know Matt.” Foggy chuckled nervously. He wouldn’t meet your eyes.

“Mhm,” you hummed skeptically. You stared Foggy down. Once or twice, he would glance up at you, but his gaze fluttered away when he realized you were still staring. The waitress brought your checks over and he fumbled getting his money out of his wallet and struggled with gathering his things. Before he could get up and leave, you spoke his name, forcing him to look at you. “Foggy. What’s going on with Matt?”

“Nothing, I swear—”

“Foggy.”

He looked at you and sighed. You were hoping he realized you wouldn’t back down. “I can’t tell you.”

“Why.” It wasn’t a question. It was a demand.

“He promised me not to.”

“Is he in some sort of secret blind Fight Club?”

“If only.”

You reached across the table to grab Foggy’s arms. You leaned towards him. If your college days taught you anything, you might be able to puppy-dog-eye your way to get what you want. “Foggy. Is he in trouble?” you said slowly, quietly.

He turned his head, looking away, as if to find somebody who would rescue him from your gaze. But there was no one. “Y/N, I…I really can’t do this.” His voice was weak. “I can’t tell you.” He pulled free from your grasp, standing and walking away from you. “I’ll see you next week,” he said over his shoulder as he exited the building.

You sat back in your seat, resting heavily against the booth. What was going on? There was nothing, nothing that they had hidden from you before.

At least…not that you knew of.

So why were they hiding this?

You ignored their texts and calls over the next couple of days. You were angry that they were keeping things from you. You were upset that Matt had rejected your feelings just like that, so easily. Your emotions overwhelmed you and you weren’t sure how to process them—so you just ignored them.

After about a week of the silent treatment, they sent Karen over to your apartment one night. She carried your favorite takeout in her hands as a bribe. You took it, of course, but you weren’t happy about it.

“They’re worried about you,” Karen said once the two of you were sat at your table, food dished out in front of you.

You speared a vegetable with a little too much force. “Yeah, well, they wouldn’t have to be if they would just tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m sure they have good reason.”

“You didn’t see the state Matt was in. Something big is going on.”

“Matt said he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe he was mugged and they don’t want to tell you so you’re not worried?”

“I wish that was the case.” You turned to face her. “How are you so calm about this? I mean, don’t you think something’s up?”

“I talked to him a few days ago and…he’ll tell us when he’s ready.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes. With Matt’s stubbornness, he wouldn’t tell you anything until the information leaked on its own. You’d have to wear down Foggy or…

Karen sighed. She could tell she wasn’t going to be able to get through to you. She decided to change the subject before you could rant any more.

“Seen anything good on Netflix lately?” she offered and the two of you made small talk for the rest of the evening.

A few days later, you were cursing yourself as you were backed into an alleyway. How could you be so stupid? You dropped your guard walking home for one minute and look where it got you. You knew to always be aware of your surroundings, so why did you stop to check the notification on your phone? Just one cute video sent from a friend of her dog and you were about to be robbed of your belongings…or worse.

You tried to form an escape plan—or at least a get-out-alive plan—but your brain was short-circuiting. You nearly shrieked when a dark mass seemingly fell from the sky. Your heart sped faster. Was this man an accomplice to your attacker? Would you now have to face two men to get out of this alley?

But you breathed a small sigh of relief as the man rose from his crouched position on the concrete. You had seen enough pictures in the Bulletin to recognize that this was the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. In the flesh. Right here in front of you.

The masked man took only one step forward but it was enough to send your would-be attacker running for the hills. The masked man cocked his head to the side, listening for a moment, before turning to face you. “Are you alright?” he asked. His voice was comforting, like an old friend.

You let out a shaky breath. “Y-Yeah, I’m fine.” You crossed your arms in an effort to hide your trembling hands. “I wish I knew all it took to scare someone away was to wear a mask. Maybe I’ll start carrying one around.”

The man smiled, small but tense. “If only that’s all it took.”

You glanced awkwardly around the alley, unsure of what to say next. “I, um, thank you?” You cleared your throat. “Thank you,” you tried again. “I…I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t shown up.” You tried to clamp down on your wandering thoughts, but it was hard to stop the flashes of possibilities in your brain.

“Is there anyone you could call to come get you?”

Matt. Foggy. Karen. But you still didn’t feel like reaching out to any of them just yet. You shook your head. “No. My apartment’s just two blocks away, anyway. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m okay. I’m just a little shaken, but I can make it. Thank you.”

The man hesitated a moment longer, seeming to check that you would actually be all right, before scaling the nearby fire escape in leaps and bounds until he disappeared in shadow. You took a moment to collect yourself before stepping out into the warm light of a streetlamp. You hesitantly made your way home, skittish and jumping at every little noise. You sighed a breath of relief when the deadbolt of your front door finally slid closed.

Even though you were on the fifth floor, you went around your apartment, checking that every window was locked and secured. You pulled the blinds closed for good measure. You froze when you spotted a figure crouched on the fire escape across the street, but smiled as you realized it was the masked man, seeing you safely home. Despite the evening’s events, you felt safe knowing the masked man was protecting the city.

You spotted the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen several more times over the next few weeks. You would catch glimpses of him on your walk home, spot him in shadows from out your window, heard the stories of those he saved. It was comforting, knowing he was out there. You didn’t think his persistent presence would one day turn against you.

[murdocklovespage]

Pick a creator, shower them with love: @significantowl

I want everyone to get one of these! @meinhiding & @bubblesinapocket have been focusing on our lovely squad for the last two days and my dream is for as many people as possible to do the same.

Now, for one of my favorite creators: @significantowl

This lovely genius is also the one who runs @daredevilbingo and has made bingo cards for dozens of people for several years. I was lucky enough to be paired with her for our Karedevil Secret Santa last year (as in, she made ME something) and I was just giddy over it. She’s probably the ultimate DD multishipper, focusing on every ship except for Kastle (I think?) and she writes beautifully, for example:

In these pages: ficlets/drabbles - Chapter 3

“In the night, love tastes like copper on his tongue, slides slick and warm down the back of his throat. It’s pure. Elemental.

(He bled for Karen before he even really knew her. When he thinks of that it pleases him: a matter of record, incontrovertible. A steady, honest flame that can never be doused.)”

Chapter 4, an absolutely priceless Core 3 at work ficlet in which Karen comes into work sick...

“Oh my God,” Foggy wails. “Oh my God.” He closes his eyes, clearly collecting himself. “All right, here’s the plan. You’re in there, Murdock -” Matt raises his hands in surrender, and allows himself to be pushed all the way through the office door, which then firmly closes in his face. “I’m going to see if I can charm our friends across the hall out of any cans of Lysol they might have, and you, Karen, you are going to go home, think about what you’ve done, and decide what your role is going to be when this all comes to its inevitable conclusion.”

“What?”

“Are you going to hold Matt down,” Foggy clarifies, “or are you going to throw the pills down his throat, because when he gets this it’s gonna take both of us, Page, don’t doubt it for an instant.”

How much of it is Fire - Starts with Karen transfixed by videos of DD, and delves into her understanding of his violent ways in parallel to her own. I’ve always loved their dynamic- Karen feels this connection to Matt long before she knows who he really is, and she will vehemently defend her Man in Black to those she loves no matter the consequences. This gorgeously describes her thoughts as she tries to find more, even after knowing who he is, and how she wishes to see him in his element again.

I started reading this for this express purpose of picking some new stories I haven’t read, but as per usual, I don’t have the time today. Here’s a sample of what is making it even more difficult to bookmark instead of just read: 

She thinks of it that way purposefully. Matt's rage. The same woman who puts six bullets in a man can be transfixed by the magic of a ceiling made of glittering lights; the same man who wears one suit to punch assholes into the ground can wear another while he’s putting them away in court, and still quietly, desperately, miss the sky.

She never believed that part was a lie.

Finally, my favorite story (I’m partial, I guess), my Secret Santa gift, In these City Streets, an AU (YAYYYY) in which Matt and Foggy own a sandwich shop and Karen is a loyal customer. @significantowl went well beyond the required word count and gave us an AU masterpiece, with Core 3 interactions we all deserve, flirting we need, and action. I have a googledoc somewhere in my drive with dozens of lines copied so I could give her a proper comment (yeah, I’m ridiculously late) but I can’t find it, so I’ll leave it at this: If you love AU’s (and you should), this is what you need. Here’s a lovely sample:

Scent first. Karen flooded Matt’s senses whenever she arrived at the restaurant, but it always started with scent: sweet, warm vanilla over traces of soothing lavender. Then sound, the crisp click of her heels on their hardwood floor, and the light, quick, slightly over-caffeinated beat of her heart.

Back in the kitchen, up to his elbows in a bowl of triple chocolate muffin batter, Matt listened as Karen placed her order with Foggy. A ham and swiss, a bottle of water, and a side of Theo Nelson's famous potato salad. She didn't usually come in this early, before the lunch rush began; in fact, she normally didn't show up until the day was winding down.

Half expecting Karen to end her order with the words “to go”, Matt felt his lips curve up when instead he heard her heels clicking their way towards her usual corner booth. He poured semisweet chocolate chips into the batter - the milk and dark chocolate chips were already in - and stirred. Out at her booth, Karen unshouldered a heavy bag, dropping it onto the table; a few seconds later, her laptop whirred to life.

Sounded like she was settling in.

Felt like Matt was smiling.

Basically, if you love good writing, sentences that are practically poetry, and amazing characterization, you should read everything significantowl has ever written. She helps keep the fandom going and we are lucky to have her.

[laurens-lil-fics]

Hallucinate - Matt Murdock x Powered! Reader Part 1

Series Summary: When members of a criminal organization start flooding precincts all over New York, turning themselves in, Daredevil must investigate to see what new player has them running for the hills.

Chapter Summary: Matt, Foggy and Karen are among a group of lawyers called to the 15th precinct police station when a wave of baddies show up to turn themselves in. But what’s sent them scattering in the wind?

Word Count: 1936

Warnings: Violence, kidnapping

Author’s note: I’ve been wanting to do a powered! reader series for a while with Daredevil and I think I finally have a good way to execute that. I hope y'all enjoy!

The call came around 1:30. 

Matt was about halfway down with the takeout Karen had brought him when he heard Foggy cheerfully answering a call from Brett. His tone completely changed once Brett started speaking. He heard everything, but still bothered to ask what had happened once Foggy ended the call.

“It’s the 15th... Hell, not just the 15th, stations all over Hell’s Kitchen are getting tons of perps just walking in and asking to be processed.” Foggy said, repackaging his noodles and quickly doing the same to Matt’s and Karen’s lunches. 

“Wait a minute, so Brett wants us to go down there why?” Karen asked, glancing between the two.

“Every perp is entitled to a lawyer, I can’t imagine we’re the only ones he called...” Matt said, standing and quickly putting on his suit jacket. 

Karen quickly called them a cab, and the three were on their way to the 15th. 

It was Hell pushing through the crowd of people just outside the entrance. News reporters, lawyers, investigators, even some people waiting to turn themselves in. If it wasn’t for Brett, the three would have probably been stuck outside.

“You guys got a preference? Take your pick, not a lot of em are very talkative...” Brett said, leading them towards the interrogation rooms.

“I thought you said they were turning themselves in, how are they doing that if they’re giving you the silent treatment?” Foggy asked.

“A lot of em are parole violations, some of em are guys we’ve been trying to find on petty charges. I think it goes a lot deeper than that, though.” Brett explained.

Matt could feel a headache coming on from all the commotion, people shouting they stole this or defaced that, all trying to get locked up as quickly as possible. Despite the sensory overload, he tried focusing his hearing for anyone in an interrogation room who seemed the most on edge. Someone who would give up information easily.

He found his target. He could smell the pit sweat from 5 rooms away where they stood. Once they stood in front of the door, Matt tapped Foggy’s hand, prompting Foggy to ask Brett to let them in that room.

The man’s heart sounded like it was about to thump out of his chest and into oncoming traffic just from the sound of the door opening. 

Matt, Karen and Foggy took their seats on the opposite end of the table from him, making their introductions. 

“So, Mr. Mackie, says here you turned yourself in because of a parole violation?” Karen asked, glancing between the man and his file.

He quickly nodded his head glancing between the three. “Look, just have them send me back to prison. I only got like a year on my sentence, just get them to send me back for the year.” He sputtered. 

“Mr. Mackie, it says you had a 10 year sentence, you’ve been spending the past 6 on parole. Why give up 9 years of good behavior? And so suddenly?” Foggy asked.

“Does it really matter?!” Mackie snapped, his heart rate spiking. “I broke my parole, I broke the law, I should be locked up! I want a different lawyer, you two ask too many questions!”

Foggy and Karen sighed softly, getting up to leave only to stop when they saw Matt planted in his seat. “Mr. Mackie, lemme have a moment alone with you, without my partners. I want to get this sorted out just as much as you do... the sooner you and I can cooperate the sooner we can get your court date scheduled.”

Mr. Mackie considered the offer for a moment before quickly nodding, sending Foggy and Karen out into the hall.

“Mr. Mackie...” Matt began, motioning to the door. “It doesn’t take a genius to know something else is going on here, what with all the other people outside, trying to get in here...”

He shook slightly, shutting his eyes before giving a frustrated sigh. “We were supposed to all come in separate... go to different precincts all over the city, make it look in...incon... not suspicious, yknow?”

“So you know all those people?” Matt asked, leaning in closer as Mr. Mackie glanced at the two way mirror. Mr. Mackie leaned in as well.

“We...we work together...” he mumbled.

“For someone... dangerous? Someone who threatened you?” Matt asked, his tone gentle so not as to scare his client into kicking him out of the room.

“It’s not the boss...” he whispered. “It’s the person after the boss...” Without warning, he pulled away from Matt, looking wildly around the room as if someone had caught the two of them. 

“Easy, Mr. Mackie, easy. Let me help you, do you know who it is?” Matt asked, keeping his voice level despite his obvious confusion. He didn’t hear anything suspicious nearby, nothing that could have alarmed Mr. Mackie.

“No! I don’t know what you’re talking about, I just violated my parole! That’s all I did is violate my parole!” He shouted, refusing to meet Matt’s gaze.

Defeated, Matt stood up before setting his card down in front of his client. “Well... if any other details about your parole come up... give me a call. I’ll come down here as soon as possible.”

Before Matt could leave, Mr. Mackie spoke up. “My parole... I broke it at the docks... the ones by West 57th...”

It wasn’t much of a lead, but that’s all Matt had to go off of. He told Foggy and Karen what he had learned, assuring them he’d be careful when he got to the docks. 

He was perched on the roof of a warehouse, one close enough where he could get a view of the docks and be able to run to them incase he saw anything suspicious. 

2 AM and no activity so far, save for some teens skateboarding by on their way to a bodega. 

A part of him worried Mr. Mackie had given him a false lead, something to satisfy him to stop asking questions about whatever his “job” was. Those fears were quickly discarded at the sound of several vans approaching the docks. 30 minutes passed without any movement, until Matt focused on the sound of a boat engine slowly approaching. 

It sounded too big to be a speedboat, maybe a yacht, but what would a yacht be doing at 2 AM in the Hudson in the middle of Winter?

Once the yacht was close enough, he could hear the sounds of people sobbing below deck, about 10 or 12.

“Holy shit...” Matt mumbled, sprinting down the fire escape and towards a cluster of shipping containers right beside the dock. Just as he climbed atop a container, the people were being taken from the ship and dragged towards the vans.

Armed guards waited outside the vehicles, looking around for any intruders. 

“Looks like tonight’s going off without a hitch.” One spoke up.

“Yeah, right when all those guys up and quit with their tails between their legs. More money for us.” another snickered, adjusting his hold on his rifle.

Another spoke up, this one sounding like he was ready to jump out of his skin. “You don’t think she’s really gonna show, do you?”

The first guard scoffed, it sounded like he nudged the other with his elbow. “Don’t be such a chicken shit. She would have gotten here by now. And if she does decide to show up,” he cocked his shotgun, “she’ll be getting a face full of this.”

Matt stood from his crouching position as the people were dragged closer to the vans, preparing to leap into action.

Before he could move, and just as a guard caught sight of him, he heard someone’s heart beating somewhere nearby. It was different, irregular almost. And hovering just above him.

“It’s Daredev-” before the goon could finish, he was sent flying into one of the vans, screaming until he made impact. The rifles the others were holding began to slowly twist and contort before flying out of the guard’s hands.

Matt could hear the wind whipping against the person’s clothing, their joints creaking as they twisted their hands and flicked their fingers this way and that. Vans went flying into the river, guards were sent this way and that. Those who had hold of the people they were attempting to kidnap began to clutch at their heads, screaming in pain and giving the people enough time to sprint away and hide.

The person slowly descended, glancing at Daredevil as they went. Once their boots hit the cement, they slowly made their way towards one of the men writhing on the ground.

Matt ran to the hostages who watched the scene in horror, only becoming more scared when they saw a man in a devil costume standing before them. “There’s a police patrol nearby, if you run you can make it to them in time and get to safety. Tell them to send back up to the docks as soon as possible.”

Some of them nodded, others looked like he had just spoken a made up language to them. Nonetheless, they all took off running in the same direction.

Matt leaned against the wall of the shipping container, listening as the person kneeled beside one of the guards.

“This can all stop... this can all be over.” She spoke, her voice muffled by the mask that covered the lower half of her face. “You just have to tell me where Blum is. And I’ll let it end.”

“Fuck you!” he spat, earning a sigh from the woman. 

“You never make it easy, do you?” she lamented. She raised a hand to his head, tilting it from side to side.

Matt wasn’t exactly sure what was happening, he had no idea who this woman was, if she was willing to kill these men or what. Just that she was after someone named Blum.

His train of thought was interrupted when she sighed disappointingly. “You really don’t know anything, do you?”

One of the more tenacious goons slowly stood up, trying to sneak up on her with his pistol at the ready.

Matt emerged from his hiding spot, throwing one of his batons at the man just as he fired. The impact made him miss, but still alerted the woman in front of them.

She flung her hand in their direction, causing the two to freeze in place. It was almost as if there was an energy around Matt feeding off of him, making him stay still. 

The woman stood up and approached Daredevil, her eyes trailing over his figure. “Daredevil... big fan. I’ll have to get your autograph later.”

Next thing he knew, he was sent flying towards a shipping container, smacking into the side of it. Upon impact, she kept his body planted against the metal.

She turned to the guard that tried to fire at her, only to be interrupted by the echo of numerous police sirens headed their way.

She turned back to Daredevil and released her hold on him, letting him fall to the ground. He felt absolutely drained, he could have fallen asleep then and there on the docks if she had kept her hold on him for just a second longer. At least that’s what it felt like.

“Next time don’t get in my way, Daredevil. This isn’t your fight.” With that, he heard her boots leave the pavement, and the wind whip past her until she had flown out of his hearing range.

Matt forced himself to stand up and run from the docks, just as the police arrived.

[pettyprocrastination]

I Don't Think We're On Earth-65 Anymore Cop!Frank Castle x Spider!Reader

@jarvis-ismy-copilot @wolfmothar @murdockmmatt @marvelobsessedteen

Summary: Jitterbug gets help from the Devil of hell's kitchen and learns a big detail about the masked vigilante.

Chapter five

“You mean to tell me you’re from another dimension?” Daredevil summed up. Once he swore to help her find her way home the pair took to the rooftops in travel, jumping and swinging from building to building as they spoke.

“Sounds crazy I know, but it’s the truth.”

“I believe you.”

Jitterbug halted on the edge of the building and looked at him. “Wait, really? Just like that? You just trust me like that?” Surely he should've been at least a little surprised.

The devil merely smiled. “I doubt you’d lie about it, and I mean after seeing a hole open up in the sky and spit you out like a soggy fry I don't have much room to argue.”

“Hm. Touche.”

“Not to mention I can hear your heartbeat.” He added before resuming their rooftop clamour once more.

“You can WHAT?”

Matt knew he should probably be more cautious of the woman. He knew nothing about her or where her allegiance lies. But what he knew was that she was telling the truth, that she was lost and needed to get home. Usually he would think she's crazy. Maybe it was the catholic in him insisting she help her, maybe it was his hero complex or his bleeding heart, or maybe it was seeing her fall out of the sky like a asteroid that made him think she was truly in a struggle.

Boy, he thought he had seen it all. The dead come back to life, a bullet-proof man, a woman with super strength and...whatever the hell was up with Danny. But this, oh this took the cake.

“Mind telling me where we’re going Devil-dude?” She swung right next to him by what looks to be a rope shooting out of her wrist. It was certainly a new power in his book.

“My apartment.” He answered. “We gotta figure out how exactly you got here, by what, and how to get you back. We need a game plan.”

“Sounds good to me. Your New York is a little different than mine so I'm just gonna follow your lead on this.”

Matt hadn’t expected Foggy and Karen to be at his apartment that night. He really didn’t. They had won a case that day and the trio wanted to celebrate, but Matt had left early to go on patrol.

“When the hell does he get back from this shit?” Foggy groaned. “It’s 2 am!”

Karen shushed him. “Dont! This is supposed to be a surprise Foggy and I'm pretty sure the family across the street can hear you!” She giggled a little bit when she spoke so he knew the pair were already buzzed. He could smell pizza, beer and cupcakes, no doubt store bought but the thought still warmed his heart. The group had come along way since they reopened their law-firm. Granted Foggy and Karen don't support his late night activities with open arms, but they love Matt. So they do their damndest to be there for him whenever they could. He couldn’t wish for a better family.

“Boy.” Jitterbug spoke. “You're friends are fucking loud.”

“I don’t know how to get you in there without them seeing you.” She snorted.

“Oh don’t worry about me, I can get in there like a sweet summer breeze. What room you want me in?”

He made a face.

“Yeah, bad wording on my part. Sorry.”

“My bedroom is behind a large door on the left, If I draw them to the windows the maybe-”

“Oh my god you're just like Castle.” She groaned and knocked on the door for him. “Too much thinking!”

“Wait no-”

“There he is!” The moment Foggy opened the door, Jitterbug disappeared in a gust of wind. His friend paused and pointed to Matt.

“Wait a minute, why did you knock at your own apartment?”

“I could hear you guys inside.”

Karen laughed from the couch. “I told you!”

Foggy waved her off. “Yeah, yeah I’ll work on my volume control another day. But now-” He placed a cold beer in his friend’s hand with an infectious smile. “-We celebrate!”

He walked in and glanced around the apartment. His kitchen was void and the hallway empty so where did Jitterbug disappear to? “You guys didn’t have to do this you know. It’s late.”

“Yet here we are.” Karen pointed out. “So you better park it Murdock, because you aren’t getting rid of us anytime soon.”

That may prove to be a problem.

“Let me just get dressed, this isn’t exactly comfortable.” Matt walked into his room, quickly shutting the door behind him.

Jitterbug stood in the center of his room, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. “Your friends are nice. Do they know about you-”

“They do.” He quickly shed his clothes, she merely raised a brow and watched him hurriedly dress himself. “It’s caused a lot of problems and it’s taken a long time for me to gain their trust again. But that trust will be broken again if they-”

“Find some random vigilante chick in your room?” She finished and waved him off. “I got you devil-dude. I’ll wait in here until their gone-” She pantomimed zipping her lips with a smile. “-quiet as a mouse.”

Matt’s shoulder dropped and let out a breath of relief. “Thank you. I know this is an urgent situation for you but-”

“You got a life to protect.” She plopped herself down on his bed, taking note of the silk sheets. “I get that.” She’d been through the struggle herself. Because of the life Jitterbug chose to live, she was pretty lonely. Many partners and friends had walked out of the heroine’s life because she would run off in the middle of a sentence or come home late at night barely able to stand. It was a harsh life, but one that she felt she had to live for the safety of others.

She noticed his eyes for the first time and froze. They were nice. Brown and soft, but unfocused. He was facing her as she spoke but his eyes never really focused on her as a person but more on the direction she was in.

“Wait a minute, are you blind?”

He cracked a smile. “Just a tad.”

One of his friend’s knocked on the door in rapid succession.

“Come on Murdock!” Foggy shouted and Jitterbug’s blood ran cold. “I wanna see if you can beat my mini cupcake record!” Matt smiled and shook his head.

“I’ll doubt I can, but I’ll try!” He finished tying the string in his pants and reached for the doorknob, only to freeze when he heard Jitterbug's voice hesitantly ask.

“Is your name..Matt Murdock?”

He turned to her, his hands coming to rest as his side and twitching. “I am, why?”

She opened her mouth to speak, before shutting it and shaking her head. “It’s nothing.” She motioned to the door and made a shooing motion with her hands, ready for his friends to leave and find a way home. “Let’s just hope your better than the one from my universe.”

Matt wanted to stay and ask what he was like and what he had done to her, but there was no time. He needed to spend time with his friends before ushering them out under the excuse that he needed to get some rest but truly so he can learn more about this mystery hero and how to get her back to her universe. He locked the door before him and she slid down to the floor, praying that the unlikely friend she just made wouldn’t simply make the situation worse.

I have officially finished writing and editing this fic!!yay!! Now I can focus on uploading the chapters and getting to work on other pieces!! So don't hesitate to send some requests my way ESPECIALLY for some more jitterbug content, you know I love that gal!! Also want you guys to know I am going to start writing for Griff from baby driver as well. Please don't hesitate to send me a message about a request, critiques or just wanted to say hi! I completely forgot the tag list until this chapter I'm so sorry sdnrksks but please let me know if you want to be tagged in the future chapters, hope you lovelies have a great day <3

[thatfairyfangirl]

Blind Date Chapter 4

“Are you sure your friends will like me?” You asked nervously clutching Matt's hand, careful of the fresh cuts on his knuckles. “I mean, obviously Karen...we've been friends for years...but Foggy and Jose…”

Matt let out a hearty laugh. “Jose doesn't like anyone. She tolerates us.” He explained as he slid his hand from yours to wrap around your shoulder. “And Foggy liked you the second Karen started bringing your muffins to the office.” You gave a comforted smile as he stopped in front of the seedy bar.

Foggy and Karen were off to the side playing pool, a pitcher of mediocre beer sitting at a hightop table close enough to be considered taken by them. “Hey so you must be the mysterious girlfriend.” Foggy said with a friendly smile as he reached a hand out to you.

“Well I don't know about mysterious.” You said modestly before shaking the hand and introducing yourself. Everything about him to you seemed warm and friendly as the four of you sat, letting Foggy pour you a beer. “Oh my god this is vile.” You proclaimed after your first sip. “Maybe I should stick to water.

“You're safer with the beer. Trust me.” Karen assured you. “Oh! Get her the thing with the eel!” She offered excitedly.

“Karen you monster! No!” Foggy said as you all shared a laugh though you only knew the story behind it second hand from Karen's rememberings the following day. “You set this poor girl up with Matt.” He added placing a defensive hand on your shoulder. “Don't you think shes gone through enough?”

As the night rolled on you listened to stories the group had prepared to embarrass their friend in front of you as you nursed your cup of beer. It wasn't until Matt chimed in with the story about avocados at law that you finally reached to the pitcher for a refill. “You two have a weird obsession with food… I like it.” You joked as you poured yourself another beer. Foggy's eyes widened spotting the sign of the horned god on the inside of your wrist while You placed the pitched down.

“Umm, Matt...a word?” Foggy mumbled as he gestured toward the other end of the pool table. You watched with a raised brow as the boys went off on their own. “OK so not complaining, she is definitely a step up from you know who… But I know you and how very Catholic you are..Are you aware she's a witch?”

Matt chuckled. “You saw her tattoos?” He asked with a slight nod. “She prefers the word Pagan. And yeah...we talked about it.”

“How did you- what could you smell the ink?”

“She traced them out for me” Matt explained “...what color are they?”

“Goddess is purple Horned God is green.” Foggy said with a sigh. “Her hair is (y/h/c) and her eyes are (y/e/c).” He was sure that would be the next question. “So does she know yet? About the devil?”

“are you completely insane?! You and Karen can take care of yourselves but (y/n)...I can't put her in danger like that!”

“Don't you think that this is a big part of you she should know?!” Foggy asked just loud enough for you to hear over the noise of the bar. That's it, you had been suspecting but now you knew for sure. You pushed yourself from the table and made your eat over to the two of them.

“What's a big thing I should know?” Despite Matt's dark lenses Foggy could see the close to seething look on his friend's face as you asked. He hated that he would have to lie to you right now.

“Matt loves to play pool” Foggy blurted out without thinking, instinctively protecting his friend's secret.

Matt let a small relieved sigh escape his lips as he could tell you accepted the answer. “Yeah but I'm really terrible at it. That's why i haven't told you.”

You laughed before taking both their hands taking them to the pool table. “Then lets play a game. Honestly I'm so terrible at this game I may as well be blind.”

~ ~ ~ ~

“Man I...I love this time of year.” You slurred as the September night wind tugged at your hair. “You ssh-you should come up north with me next month the leaves are SOOOOOO pretty!” You added with drunkenly excited open arms.

Matt chuckled as he pulled you in close. “I but they smell great.”

“Oh shit. Sorry I forget.” You said as you held your fingers to your lips. He smiled shaking his head before his pace slowed. Around the corner he could hear them, a small group of thugs.

“I hear a drunk girl. Easy pickings.”

“Sweetie are you sure You want to go to your place tonight? Mine's closer.” Matt offered, subtly trying to away you into going the other direction.

“Harvest Baking Challenge is on tonight and I want to catch the late night airing.” You pouted as you tugged him gently in the direction you had been going. With a sigh Matt wrapped his arm a bit tighter around you, sure things were about to get ugly.

It happened so fast you barely registered what was going on. You were staring down the barrel of a 45, someone demanding your purse. You were frozen with fear as Matt thrust his habd from you to the gun forcing the aim to a building before it went off. He threw punches and kicks with such accuracy for a moment you thought he could see. “Come on lets get you home.” He finally said once every attacker was on the ground. You nodded, in shock.

~ ~ ~ ~

The next morning the sun poured into your bakery, lighting up the pink and purple swirls of the Magicakes sign painted on the windows. “Sweetheart you don't have to give me free baked goods.” Matt insisted with a smile as you set the box down in front of him. You knew you had to do more to thank him for last night but this was the best you had to offer.

“Listen here that was the second time you saved me. You're getting these cupcakes!”

“Eh what can I say. I got a thing for damsels in distress.” He joked reaching over the counter to plant a soft kiss on your lips.

~ ~ ~ ~

“Guess who brought treats.”  Matt announced as he entered the office, setting down the box you had given him

“Not that I'm complaining but what is the occasion?” Foggy asked as he hurried from the desk, recognizing the box as being from Magicakes.

“I saved (y/n) from a mugger last night on the way home so she insisted.” Matt said with a smile as his thoughts dwelled on you.

“Oh man! She deserves so much more than that small rental space in Hells Kitchen!” Foggy exclaimed as he opened the box to see the most intricately decorated pieces of edible art

“Hey we were watching this show last night...umm something baking change.” Matt said as he sat at his desk.

“Harvest Baking Challenge.” Karen chimed in as she took a cupcake, almost feeling bad for eating something so beautiful.

“That's the one!” Matt exclaimed pointing to her as she gave the right answer. “Karen Can you pull up their webpage see if we can nominate her or something?”

“Oh send her in for Winter Baking Challenge. They do christmasy stuff, with her background she'd really stand out.” Foggy offered with excitement, Matt and Karen looking at him with surprise. “What? Marci likes watching it.” The two of them chuckled shaking their head.

Karen sat down at her computer searching for a way to make this happen for you. “Alright we'll need some pictures of her work and we'll have to get her to make an application video.

Announcement from the writer:

With the new terms of use and the impending ban on adult content on this site I will be moving my writing. This fic will soon have a chapter that needs that adult content to have the same impact that I had originally intended for the scene and I will not falter on it. 

I have decided to move my writing to Patreon so that I can keep as much of the community feel as possible. You can find me on Patreon HERE. I know, I know, it sounds like I am expecting you to pay for my writing but fear not! I will only be charging $1 a month, and even that is voluntary. The majority of my fics will be available for free. The $1 subscription will be for access to the really adult content stuff I have been sitting on such as what I have been calling “Blind Date’s Deleted Scene” and access to the discord I have created. As a bonus for you guys since you have been with me since the beginning of Blind Date I will grant you free access to the discord if you shoot me a message here on tumblr and ask.

This fic is already queued up to its completion but in the even that specific chapter becomes flagged I will post this fic in its entirety. 

For those who have trouble with hyperlinks on their device or find it hard to click a small word vs an actual link here is the full link to my new Patreon    https://www.patreon.com/fairyfangirl

[quality-on-a-patch-of-awesome]

Who’s ready for some more headcanoning?

Now that I’m back home, here are some of the scenes I imagined up watching season 2 of Iron Fist. They’re behind a cut because of spoilers and because they got way more epic than I thought they would.

At some point, while they’re off on their adventures, Danny gets himself a bit beat up and Ward is cleaning him up (because the scene of that actually happening in the show was one of my absolute favourites), but Danny won’t shut up and sit still so Ward just kisses him. He doesn’t even realise that he’s done it at first because it just came so naturally to him. Then he notices that Danny has just frozen and it all hits him and he’s going to panic, but he doesn’t get the chance before Danny is kissing him. He worries that this is going to mess up the best thing in his entire life, though. He still worries, even when he and Danny are in bed together and only stops (a little, anyway) when Danny wakes up the next morning from where he fell asleep with his head on Ward’s chest (while Ward spent a few more hour panicking before eventually passing out from the stress) and then Danny looks at him like everything is right with the world.

They may or may not make it out of bed that day.

Alternatively, while Ward is patching up Danny, instead of kissing him, he’s just hit by the revelation that he’s stupid in love with Danny and probably has been for a while. He doesn’t take it too well (because this is Ward and feelings are notoriously hard for him) and shuts down.

Danny doesn’t take this well because he thought they were finally getting somewhere and how can that just go away? So he doesn’t stop bothering Ward about what’s going on until Ward has enough of the badgering and everything just spills out.

When Ward eventually stops talking (he has a lot to say and when he starts, he can’t stop), he stares at Danny, waiting for some kind of response, probably planning how quickly he can get out of there (he’s definitely expecting it to go badly).

“Thank god it’s not just me.” Danny steps in and presses his and Ward’s mouths together.

Ward will give Danny shit about that later, when he’s done finding out what every part of Danny tastes like.

Eventually, they have to go home.

The plane lands, but Ward doesn’t want to get off because how can everything be the same now? Things were good, while they were away, but things were so much less complicated when it was just them.

Danny calls Ward an idiot and proceeds to love him just as fiercely at home, in front of the whole world, as he did while they were away, when half the time it was just them.

Or, season 1 ended with Danny and Coleen going off on an adventure together and season 2 started with them living together. Maybe season 3 starts with Danny and Ward living together

No one knows what’s really going on. Maybe people think they’re already together. Maybe people think Ward invited Danny to stay with him, while he readjusted and found his own place, after his break up with Coleen. Maybe people think Danny is staying to keep an eye on Ward, in case he falls off the wagon again. They can’t be sure because Danny and Ward are the same around each other as they have been for months.

They don’t figure it out until Danny and Ward talk about going home and they leave holding hands or they talk about going to bed and disappear behind the same door.

Even then, people still aren’t convinced about what’s really going on.

Option 1 for Danny and Ward coming home.

They come back of their own accord and find everything has gone to shit while they were away.

They think about leaving again to escape it all, but Danny has a pathological need to fix things and they throw themselves into making everything better (Ward still can’t believe he’s doing that kind of good).

Option 2

Danny gets a call from Luke and/or Jess to get his dumbass back home as soon as possible because the world is about to end. Also, Matt’s not dead, but he won’t explain how or why until you get here, too, and we really want to find out what the fuck is happening.

They’re on the plane and in the air within an hour.

Danny isn’t mad that Matt is alive and has conveniently forgotten to mention it until now- he just pulls him into the biggest hug he can manage and asks so many questions that Matt barely has time to get a word in to explain.

Ward gets angry enough for both of them (and then some) because not only is he not a fan of people coming back from the dead (finding out that Matt was never technically dead is of little comfort), but he’s still pissed at Matt for how many times Danny went out into Hell’s Kitchen and nearly got himself killed trying to honour the promise he made to Matt.

They save the world and when they’re all exhausted and almost passed out afterwards is when all their feelings about what happened really come out (maybe before it was just Matt explaining what happened).

Option 3

Matt is the one who calls Danny to come home. (You have to imagine that this is a video call).

“But aren’t...” Danny frowns at the screen, like he’s not believing what he’s seeing. “How?”

“It’s a long story, Danny, and one I will gladly tell you as soon as you get home. We need you.”

“I...” Danny looks down. “I don’t know if I can. I have a lot of...”

“Were you not listening, asshole?” Frank’s face appears on the screen. He looks as if he’s ready for the fight (if he hasn’t already been in one). He does not have time for this shit. “Home. Now.”

Ward, who had been hanging around in the background, appears at Danny’s shoulder and glares at the screen.

“You’re supposed to be dead, too. I am done with people crawling out of the goddamn ground we put them in.” Ward had gone with Danny to Matt’s funeral and who hadn’t heard about Punisher? He didn’t think he would ever be ready to trust another person who came back from the dead, no matter the circumstances.

“Hey, asshole,” Frank scowled at Ward, “you don’t get a vote.”

“What the fuck...”

“Ward.” Danny puts a hand on Ward’s arm, which is enough to calm him down.

Ward glares at the screen one last time before wandering off into the corner of the room and pulling his phone out to start making arrangements for flying home (if there was a problem, Danny wouldn’t take much convincing before he was jumping at the chance to make it right).

“Danny, I know this is a lot to ask- I know you have your answers to get out there, but I need you to come home, Danny. It’s.... It’s Luke.”

“Is he okay?”

“No! He’s batshit insane.” The rest of Frank’s rant is cut off when Matt mutters something to him before he wanders out of frame.

“Danny, Luke is lost and I can’t bring him home by myself.”

“You’re not by yourself.”

“Frank is... Yeah, he’s a help and he might make choices that none of us could, but he doesn’t know Luke like we do.”

“Then call Jess.”

“She won’t get involved and she won’t tell me why. Danny, please. I need you.”

-

It all goes to shit, of course, and whatever Luke has been doing ends with them kidnapped or trapped or something. Ward might not be there with them, but it’s important that Frank is because Matt is bleeding, pretty heavily, and Frank has got to be there to cradle Matt and beg him not to die for real this time.

Danny thinks that this is it. There’s no way out. Matt is barely hanging on to consciousness and Frank is busy trying to keep him alive (he’s also probably injured). He’s the only fighter they have left and he’s only just hanging on. He squares his shoulder when the door crashes open again and almost throws a punch before he realises that it’s Jess standing in the doorway.

“Don’t just stand there.” Jess steps back and waves through the open door. “Get Murdock to the hospital before he bleeds out- Danny and I have got business to take care of.”

-

Whatever Danny and Jess do, stops whatever Luke is up to (I don’t know any of the details, it’s just important that it works) and they all wind up at the hospital, waiting for news on Matt (Frank won’t leave his side, even when Foggy and Karen show up).

Luke turns up, looking and sounding more like himself than he has in months, but no one is happy to see him.

Danny almost throws a punch.

Jess actually does.

Luke is sorry for it ending up like this because it was never what he wanted, but he can’t take it back now. He’s especially sorry that he made Jess choose Danny and Matt over him.

“It wasn’t a choice, Luke- you lost your damn mind. I don’t care who or what you are to me, if you do that again, I will not hesitate to put you down.”

-

The world nearly ends again.

Luke thinks sacrificing himself is the way to make it up to his friends.

Danny calls him an idiot, when he shows up, Matt and Jess trailing just behind him.

Luke doesn’t have words.

“You’re sorry.” Matt shrugs. “That’s enough for me. Not so much for Frank, though, so you should probably stay out of his way- I think he might actually kill you.”

“Not if Ward gets there first.” Danny grins and claps a hand on Luke’s shoulder before running ahead of the group. “Come on, guys- we’ve got a world to save.”

Luke looks at Jess, who stares back for a second before looking away.

“Can’t let you die- I’m not raising this kid alone.”

Danny is the only one surprised by that (Matt has been hearing the baby’s heartbeat for weeks).

-

They save the world. Everything is not fine, but they work on it. Danielle Cage’s middle name is now Matilda for her Uncle Matty. I just really wanted to have baby Dani in there, for some reason.

Frank hears Matt in the confessional and, as soon as Matt steps out the door, he has a whole lot of reasons of why Matt Murdock needs to be alive way more than Daredevil. He yells them all at Matt.

Matt doesn’t imagine that this will end with them falling into bed together, but he’s not exactly disappointed when it goes that way (he’d be lying if he said he’s never thought about that before).

Or Frank mutters his reasons for wanting Matt alive between kisses.

Or, my personal favourite reunion scenario, is that Frank and Matt have known that the other wasn’t dead the whole time. They’ve been keeping in touch- letters, e-mails, texts, notes around the city or whatever else- but when Matt steps back out of that confessional door and Frank is sat in the first pew, it’s the first time they’ve seen each other in whatever exact number of days they’ve both got memorised. There’s probably yelling (I always imagine there’s yelling at a reunion between Punisher and Daredevil) and clinging and the realisation that, somewhere along the way, they accidentally fell in love.

Maybe that’s how Matt finds out what’s going on with Luke- Frank has seen Luke go downhill and if this isn’t going to destroy the city, he should probably reach out to the people who might be able to talk some damn sense into Luke Cage. Also, he finally got too desperate to see Matt again.

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Rise Up*

Chapter Five

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader  |  Word Count: 6539   Warnings: Swearing, Smut NSFW 18+

Song: I Walk the Line by Halsey

The air in your lungs rushed out when you slammed back first into the mat. Laying there, momentarily stunned, you sucked air, desperate to get some wind back.

Once you could breathe again, you smacked the flat of your hand down on the ground beside you and snarled, “Damn it!”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’ve improved a lot since we started.” Holding down his hand, Matt waited to help you up.

“Not enough,” you sighed, slapping your palm to his.

It had been a month since you’d started training with Matt and in that time you’d been able to master the art of seeing without seeing in your daily life. It was growing easier every day to walk the hallways of the compound without walking into something.

While he’d taught you to use a cane, you decided to keep it for missions when you wanted to appear like the average blind person. Everyone who worked for the Avengers was already aware of your abilities as a Valkyrie, and simply assumed your enhanced senses were the reason you could maneuver the compound so easily.

You could tune in or out the noise far easier than before, though you still found it difficult to distinguish individual conversations in a large group of people.

Scent and taste were coming along as well, Matt getting Tony to bring in a variety of items for you to learn and memorize. By the end of the day you were usually both mentally and physically exhausted from his vigorous and intense training regime. You both relished and hated the challenge. Learning the new things you needed to were fun and stimulating, but the simple things you'd always taken for granted, the ease with which you'd fought, or aimed a weapon, was now so much harder.

It felt like days of old when you’d first learned to fight under Tove’s tutelage. Your mother had not pulled her punches either, sending you to your back over and over again until you learned all she had to teach you.

“Hey,” Matt grasped you by the elbows once you were back on your feet. “The only reason I got your feet out from under you is that you became distracted.”

“I know, I know.”

“He’ll be back this afternoon.”

“I know,” you sighed.

“And you talked to him this morning. Everything went fine.”

Your forehead connected with Matt’s chest. After a month of nearly living in each other’s pocket he knew you almost as well as Steve. Add in the fact you were constantly in contact with each other, holding on to his arm, sharing food, hands moving together over braille as he helped you learn, it had been easy to slip into a close friendship with the man who once called himself Daredevil.

It was like gaining a brother. Wanda said it had been the same with her and Pietro. You just knew each other, got each other, so when he talked about Steve, he did so because he knew what you were going through.

“I know it did.”

Steve, Bucky, and Sam had left on a mission three days ago. He'd fought against going, knowing how painful it was for you to watch him leave, put himself in danger without you to watch his back, but they needed the power the two super soldiers brought to the team.

It was a hostage situation, high valued targets, in which a small team of agents were needed. Bucky had sworn he, Sam, and Natasha could handle it, but when the Intel had come through it was glaringly evident they needed Steve for the job. He and Bucky had the necessary strength and stealth, while Sam had the tech.

Steve had waffled right up to the moment you’d smacked him in the abs and told him to go. Yes, you needed him, but he also had a job to do. 

It had hurt like hell when he'd left, but you'd held it together, kissed him goodbye, and made it back to your room before you allowed the wave of panic and fear to overwhelm you. It had done little good hiding how difficult his leaving had been as Steve had called, wanting to know what had happened. Even at a distance he'd felt the hard jerk and lurch of your heart.  

Stroking your hair, Matt murmured, “Why don’t we call it early today?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, you’re kind of worthless.”

“Hey!”

He chuckled as you pulled away. “Kidding, kidding.”

Throwing a half-hearted punch at his head, you shook yours. “Have you talked to Elektra?”

He ducked even as he sighed. “Briefly.”

“I'm sorry, Matty.”

The rift caused between them by Matt’s decision to come to your aid had you feeling a little guilty. They had been done with all their defenders of justice bullshit - as Elektra put it - and shouldn’t be getting themselves involved.

But Matt was Matt. Getting the call from Steve, a man he admired for his principles, had set Matt at odds with his girl. Now they were barely speaking, and when they did it never went well.

“Hey, not your fault.” He shook his head as he stripped off his mask.

Even now, he still used it. Said it was like slipping into a different persona. He channelled his abilities better when he allowed himself to be Daredevil once again.

“It kind of is,” you muttered, tugging off your blindfold. “You'd gotten out of all this only to be pulled back in because of me.”

His hand came down on your shoulder. “I chose to come — my choice. I…” he hesitated, then sighed. “I… miss it.”

“Yeah?”

He heaved out another heavy breath. “Yeah. It made me… weirdly happy. Helping people. Taking down corruption. Doing some good with these… abilities,” he looked down, flexed his hands. “Made me feel…”

“Complete,” you finished for him and got a nod. “I get that.”

“I know you do. I can see it every time you're with Steve.”

“So if defending and shit makes you happy, do it.”

“I would, but I'm dead,” he chuckled. The sound, however, was hollow without mirth.

“You don't have to stay dead if you don't want to, Matt. Stories can be spread. Miracles can occur. We're pretty good at that here. Make a story up about amnesia, you've only just regained your memory. We can bring you back if you want to come back.”

“I miss Foggy. Karen, too,” he murmured, more to himself than you. “I don't know.”

“I know you love Elektra, but is being with her worth being miserable in everything else? You tried to hang up your horns once and look what happened.”

“Since when did you become the sage in this relationship?” he quipped, done with the conversation.

“Just… think about it, Matty.”

***

You were in the shower washing away the sweat and grime from your session with Matt when you heard it. There was a jet incoming.

Your heart leapt and “Sjelevenn,” whispered from your lips.

But of course when you tried to rush through the rest of your shower your hands grew clumsy, knocking the bottles to the floor. Swearing softly, you listened to the sounds of engines growing steadily closer as you scrambled to put everything to rights.

Finishing in record time, you leapt from the shower, threw a towel around yourself, another around your head and raced out the bathroom door.

The closet was no longer a challenge thanks to the girls and Matt. Bra and underwear went on without a hitch, leggings stuck to your wet skin and were sworn at as you forced them up your legs with a wild shimmy. Grabbing a thick sweater from the dresser, you struggled into it, knocking free the towel from your head, and found the tag scratching your throat. Ripping it off as you listened to the jet land, you whipped it around, threw it back on, slammed your feet into running shoes and darted out the door.

The race down the hallway was a giddy one. People darted to get out of your way. Some laughed, others catcalled giving you the gears, all of them knew exactly where you were headed.

You couldn’t care less. All you knew was you needed to get to the hanger, to Steve. The wash of red in your mind had you darting in and around people when they didn’t move fast enough.

This too made you giddy, a little giggly, because of how nice it was to have a semblance of sight back. No, it wasn’t what had once been, but in some aspects, it was better. The map in your head of the people and the building was just so much more now. You didn’t have to see what was around the corner with your eyes because you already knew what was there.

At the doors to the hanger, you slowed, pushed them open, getting a bead on the room. There were far too many people in it for your liking. Quinjets sat wingtip to wingtip; equipment scattered around. It was like a damn obstacle course between you and the jet which smelled of heat and fuel, oil and sky.

The hiss of the ramp coming down had your head turning.

Boots on metal. The whir of Bucky’s arm. Sam’s wonderful laugh made you smile, but it was the sound of familiar steps and the singing song of Steve’s shield which had you moving forward.

But gawd! There were so many people!

Why the hell did they land on the far side of the hanger?

You charted the most direct route to take you to Steve. Three steps saw you to the ladder of the nearest quinjet. Once you were standing on its roof, you took off at a run, leaping effortlessly to the wing of the next jet, up over its roof and down the other side.

Flipping off the wing, you landed in a clear section of floor and raced on. You darted around the tail of another jet. A mechanical lift with a large metal beam hung in your way. Pushing hard, you slid beneath it on your knees, and were up and running again within seconds.

The herd of people between you and Steve kept growing, all wanting to congratulate the returning heroes on their successful mission, but you were having none of it.

“Clear a fucking path!” you bellowed.

It was like the red sea parted before you. Everyone turned, took a step back, yanking other people out of the way when you headed for them at a dead run.

You grinned wide when Bucky chuckled and stepped into your path, his metal arm outstretched. Laughing, you didn’t bother to slow down but sped up. When you got closer, you rounded into a cartwheel, pushed off in a handspring which saw you landing feet first on Bucky’s arm.

“Easy, doll face!” he barked, bracing beneath your weight, but you were already launching yourself at Steve standing with Tony and Sam.

“Steve!” squealed from your lips.

“Jesus!” he yelled, arms coming up in the nick of time when you slammed full force into his chest.

Your legs went around his waist and clamped tight. Thrusting your hands into his hair, you sealed your lips to his in a kiss which took his breath and sent him stumbling backwards.

“I… missed… you… so… much!” you said between kisses.

With his shield magnetized to his arm his hand easily delved into your hair, the heavy glove of his suit catching and tugging on your locks in a surprisingly pleasant way. Hidden mostly from view by the large singing shield, you nipped and bit at his lips. His tongue slid its way into your mouth, tasting and twisting with yours before pulling you back by the hair to catch his breath.

“Baby, it’s only been three days,” he said, but his lips brushed over yours again as soon as the words were out.

“Three days without you!” Diving back in, you ate at his mouth, sucking and biting at his tongue, his other hand squeezing your ass when a disgruntled huff came from the far side of the shield.

“Get a fucking room,” Bucky teased.

“We have a debriefing to get to, Cap,” Sam chuckled.

Hefting you higher, Steve walked away. “It can wait.”

“Excellent decision, Captain,” you purred against his ear.

“She’s thoroughly corrupted him,” Tony snickered. “I love it.”

“He’s whipped,” Sam said.

“Pussy whipped,” agreed Bucky.

“Fuck you, jerk,” Steve grumbled, making you chuckle.

“They're all jealous,” you whispered in Steve’s ear, grinning at the men though it was likely only Bucky who could hear you.

Catcalls and whistling followed the two of you through the hanger, but it neither slowed Steve down nor stopped you from attacking his throat above the collar of his uniform. Together you slammed through the hanger doors into the main compound. The clanging sound of Steve’s shield hitting them echoed loudly.

You couldn’t have cared less.

The scent of Steve saturated every particle of air you breathed in. The taste of him was on your tongue. His suit was hard beneath your hands, but his hair and skin were soft. The scruff of three day’s growth of beard abraded your chin and cheek when you took your teeth to his jaw.

“Baby,” he moaned softly, “least wait till we get to the room.”

“Don’t wanna,” you murmured, nipping at his ear. “Missed you. Need to touch you.”

He hissed at the sting. “We’d get there faster if you’d let me concentrate.”

“Am I distracting you, Captain?” Crooning against his ear, you rolled your body into his in an act which had you plastering your fronts together.

“Yes!” he growled, tugging at your hair.

Laughing, you wiggled in his hold. “I know an even faster way of getting where we need to go.”

“Oh?”

You knew his brow would be arched. It always was with that cocky tone. “Yeah. Let me down, and I’ll show you.”

The spasm of his hand on your ass showed his reluctance before he let you go.

Dropping to your feet, you let your hands slide over his chest, figuring out which suit he had on. Not the stealth suit, not your favourite, but the next best. The one with the defined red and white abdomen, similar to the stealth one you adored with its design but in his traditional colours. The shoulder harness for his shield was a combination of smooth leather and cool metal when you slipped your fingers underneath it and gave a tug.

When he leaned down, you smiled slyly, pressed up on your toes and kissed him till his entire body softened before pulling away. Humming your pleasure, you licked your lips to catch the taste of him again, dragged your fingertips down over his Kevlar encased abdominals to his belt. “You want to get there fast, Captain?”

“Yeah,” he said, voice strained.

Looking up at him, you smiled seductively, peering up through your lashes, using your new senses to see the flush on his cheeks, the sweat on his brow, the way he swallowed. You could smell the heat on him, the lust growing. It made you feel powerful to know he was so thoroughly yours in that instant you likely could have dragged him into the supply closet and had him out of his suit in under a minute, but you were only just getting started.

Three days felt like three years. You weren’t letting him out of your bed until you’d touched every inch of skin and knew without a shadow of a doubt he was unharmed.

Shifting a little, aware of the people trying so hard not to watch the two of you and this public display of affection, you moved with lightning speed, a quickness you had yet to exhibit from your Valkyrie powers to any one but Matt, and took Steve’s feet out from under him.

“Catch me if you can, Cap!” Laughing loudly, you darted away.

“(Y/N)!” he bellowed. “You’d best run!”

Continuing to giggle, you pulled out all your tricks, running like a gazelle, all speed and grace and lightness of step. You sought ahead, making sure not to run into anyone.

The heavy booted feet of Steve coming after you pounded in time with your heartbeat. Where once he would have been on you in strides, now, to the Captain’s apparent surprise, he had to work to keep up. When his hearty chuckle sounded behind you, you only grinned wider.

The turn to the living quarters was coming up. Instead of slowing, you made the turn at a dead run, leaping at the last second to push off the wall and keep going.

“One side, Vis!” you laughed joyously, sliding around the android. “Watch out for Steve!” you warned just as the thump of a body hitting something solid and the sharp grunt of your sjelevenn informed you the Captain had not made the same grace-filled turn you had.

“Captain?” Vision questioned, staring at the stumbling man.

“I’m good. Damn, she’s fast!” Steve chuckled, causing the ringing sound of your laughter to wash out when you jogged to a stop before your shared door.

Grinning his direction, you pushed it open and sauntered inside.

“Is this… sprint through the compound part of (Y/N)’s training with Murdock?” Vision asked.

“Something like that,” Steve said, striding quickly toward the open door.

“Would she require assistance with the next one?”

“Vis,” Wanda called out, and you could hear the smile in her voice. “Come. I will explain the nature of what this all meant.”

You could still hear Vision muttering about the strangeness of people when Steve’s presence filled the doorway. Stripping your sweater over your head, you let it drop from your hand as you backed away, heading for the bedroom.

A rumble like a hungry animal escaped Steve’s chest when the door shut and the lock engaged. “That was pretty damn impressive, doll face,” he said. The sound of the electromagnets disengaging preceded his shield going quiet when it settled on the sofa.

“Getting easier every day,” you said, smiling as you shimmied out of your leggings.

“Fuck, baby…” he moaned, his eyes feeling hot on your skin when they roamed over you. “You went up the wall and…”

“And?” you asked, stepping slowly backward in only your underwear as he advanced.

“My blood rushed south. Should have made that turn. Ran straight into the wall instead.”

Bursting out laughing, you stopped when your calves made contact with the bed. “And here I though a little chase would be less distracting.”

“You thought watching you run, enticing me to chase you, knowing it would end up with you naked under me screaming my name, would be less distracting?”

“Alright, maybe not, but it did get us to this point so much faster.”

“Can I expect such a welcome every time I have to go away?”

“Only when you go without me.” Which, if you had your way, would be never again.

“Well… that sucks.”

Surprised, you laid your hands on his chest when he stopped before you. “What? Why?”

His gentle hands, now devoid of gloves cupped your face. “Because I don’t plan on going anywhere without you ever again.”

“Steve,” you whispered as your heart turned over.

“God you’re gorgeous, baby,” he murmured, his lips brushing yours.

Fumbling with his belt, you got it undone and let it hit the floor. “You know, this is the first time I’ve ever gotten to participate in getting you out of this suit.” Using the tips of your sensitive fingers, you passed them over his chest and abs. “Alright, how do you get in and out of this thing?” There wasn’t a buckle, zipper, or fastener to be found until you let your fingers drift down to cup the very firm length between his thighs. “Nice to see they at least made this easily accessible.”

“Is that an invitation to have you with the suit on?” he asked, his smile wide when he pressed his lips to your throat and drew them slowly down, teeth nipping into your skin.

“I would say yes, but it stinks.” You didn’t mind the sweat so much, but the scent of gunpowder, blood, and some kind of grease was becoming overpowering. “What the hell did you slide through?”

“Mechanic's shop,” he muttered, leading your hands around to the back of his suit. “Lots of oil. There’s a flap of Kevlar velcroed down, under it is a zipper. Hit the latch for the shield harness first.”

“And just why were you sliding through the oil and grunge of a mechanic’s shop?”

“Ugh…” he hesitated.

Pressing the harness release, you pulled it from his back and let it fall to join his belt. While he toed off his boots, you dragged the zipper down. “Steven?”

“There may have been a… a rocket launcher…”

“Steven!”

“It was a small one, and the shield took the impact. I just kind of… skidded… a little.”

Shoving the suit forward, you let him strip it down his arms so your forehead could connect with his back. Beneath the suit he had on a tight, compression top and similar briefs, both damp with sweat, but you paid it no mind. You’d never known sweaty man could smell good until Steve, until Helgi, but the scent of your sjelevenn was like home and never repulsed you.

“Hey, darlin’,” he murmured, rubbing the arms you’d wrapped around him. “I’m fine. You know I’ve taken a lot worse than a dirty slide through some old building.”

“I lost you… twice on the battlefield. Twice, Steve. Don’t make light of something like this.”

“Sweetheart,” he sighed, turning around to, again, take your face in his hands. The suit hung around his waist, rubbing against your bare skin in a not necessarily unpleasant way. “I’ve been doing this a long time. I know what I can and can’t take.”

Wrapping your hand at the back of his neck, you pulled him down until his forehead pressed to yours. Taking one of his hands from your face, you brought it to rest over the wildly beating heart in your chest. “Listen to this, Steve. Feel what it was like when I lost you as Sváfa.”

Returning to that time in your memory, you gasped at the sharp pain when it washed through you. Even though he stood right in front of you, flesh and blood and whole, the pain was as fresh as if it had just happened.

“They didn’t think it possible to die of a broken heart,” you whispered when he shuddered, the strange bond between you filling him with your feelings on the matter, “but I did. I did… twice.”

“Sweetheart… I’m sorry,” he whispered, kissing you softly. Jaw, cheeks, chin, he placed tender kisses all over your face, finally drifting back to your lips where he kissed you breathless.

The small tilt of his head and parted lips met yours, encouraging your mouth open with gentle persistence so his tongue could rub the edge of your teeth. The tip of his tongue caught the end of yours, teased and slipped around it, sending tingles down your spine and a moan washing from your throat.

Noses brushed together. Hearts beat as one.

You nipped into his lip, sucked it into your mouth, pulling on it with small tugs until he echoed the sound you’d made. A heady moan of wanton desire rumbled from his throat.

Shoving at his suit, you forced the heavy material down his legs, never breaking from the kiss. It landed at his feet where he stepped on it, turning the legs inside out to get the thing off as your hands dragged the hem of his top up, revealing his sculpted abs and chest.

Forced to break the kiss, you lifted the shirt over his head, Steve assisting, jerking it from his arms as your hands fell frantically to his shorts.  Dropping to your knees, you practically tore the fabric down his legs, freeing his cock in one fell swoop, where it bobbed, brushing against your cheek.

Turning your head, you licked the shaft right back to the tip, wrapped your lips around his crown and sank deep, mouth meeting your hand without hesitation, causing every muscle in Steve’s body to jerk with the sensation.

“Fuck!” he barked, sinking his hands into your hair. “Shit, fuck… baby!”

Drawing back, you smirked when you pulled away. “Something wrong?”

“Nope, not a damn thing.” He wheezed a little, the excitement of having you swallow him so suddenly palatable on the air.

“You sure? Wouldn’t want to stress that old heart of yours.”

His hands tugged at your hair. “Not a chance.”

The tip of his cock nudged your lips. Licking the end, you opened wide, letting him slide back into the heated depths of your mouth. Sucking hard, you hollowed your cheeks, pulling on him with every thrust of his hips.

“So good...” he murmured, fingers carding and stroking through your hair. “Damn you’re good at that. Don’t stop, darlin'. Don’t stop. Fuck I missed you.”

Humming a chuckle, you looked up toward his face.

His hand landed lightly on your cheek, his thumb caressing the high arch of bone. “Look at me with those eyes. Just like that, (Y/N). They’re so beautiful, baby. They match your heart now. They show your incredible soul.”

A blush filled your cheeks, one of pleasure at hearing his praise. Running your hands up and down his thighs, you sucked and licked and ran the lightest caress of teeth over the  ridges and veins of his cock. It stretched your jaw a little, but the sounds of his pleasure, the way his body heated beneath your touch, the quiver and quake of his muscles kept you going.

Grunts of pleasure replaced his words of praise until he pulled quickly away, panting heavily. “Not like that. Not yet. I want you.” His hands went beneath your arms, lifting you easily to your feet where he brought you in, flesh to flesh, to seal his mouth to yours in a kiss which once would have left bruises.

Now you returned it with the same amount of vigour. Deft fingers easily snapped open the clasp of your bra, pinning it in place between you with how tight he held you. The ridge of his hard cock pressed into your thigh making you whimper in need. “Steve, please.”

Stepping back, he swept your bra down your arms, took you by the waist, turned, and threw you back on the bed where you giggled as you landed. A knee pressed between yours. Hands returned to your waist to the band of your underwear which were swiftly jerked down your legs.

Warm, callused fingers closed around your ankles and drew them apart, lifting them up and back while you leaned on your elbows. A smile played with your lips. The intensity with which he stared at you, heated gaze dragging over your flesh, felt like fingers on your skin. “See something you like, Captain?”

“Min vakre skjoldpike.”

The words seemed to walk the length of your spine, shiver through your veins and settle deep in your heart. “Sjelevenn,” you moaned, letting your head fall back when those hard, strong hands skimmed down your calves, the back of your thighs, and under to cup your ass and drag you closer.

“Look how wet you are,” he murmured. The fingers of his right hand sent shivers through you as they made their way over to your core and slipped along your moist lips. He rubbed slow circles, playing with your clit, delving down to collect more of your slick and spread it around.

“God, Steve…” Arching up, you let your leg settle on his shoulder while the other fell open on the bed.

He leaned forward, his big body causing yours to flex with your leg over his shoulder. His tongue swept over your breast. Lips latched around your nipple and tugged just as his fingers slipped inside of you, pressing out against your walls in a scissoring motion which sent shocks of pleasure through your core.  

“Jeg trenger deg inne i meg, min kjærlighet,” poured from your lips.

“Baby,” Steve moaned against your skin. “You know what that does to me.”

“I know,” you sighed, arching against his lips.

“Tell me?” His mouth skimmed up your throat to suck against your pulse.

“I need you inside me, my love.” Turning your face, you sank into his kiss.

He shifted over you, his body pressing yours back into the bed, stretching you into a near split when his big palm held your thigh down. “How badly do you need me?” he asked, rubbing his tip into your heat.

“So bad, Stevie. I missed you, I need you, I want you,” you murmured, wrapping your hands around his neck.

“Yeah? How much do you want me?”

You smiled at his teasing. Stretched out as you were, you couldn’t even rock up against him. “As much as you want me.”

“That’s right, baby,” he purred. With a slow thrust, he sank deep, letting you feel every inch of him as he stretched your walls and filled you up.

“Fuck… you’re so damn big!”

He chuckled even as his muscles quivered with strain. “I’m already yours, darlin', no need to stroke my ego.”

“Shut up, sjelevenn.”

He continued to chuckle when he started to move. Long, slow glides of his thick cock through your already quivering walls.

“Fuck that feels so good, Stevie,” you moaned, sliding your hands down his back and dragging your nails up.

His face tucked into your throat, nipped and sucked beneath your ear. The roughness of his palms caused your skin to tingle when he stroked them over your thighs. His beard scratched your jaw, the sensation rushing straight to your core. The hand holding your thigh to the bed shifted, drew your leg up around his waist. He sank deeper, bottoming out, sending you reeling when the bliss flooded your core.

“Jeg elsker måten du elsker meg på!”

The rumble of excitement slipped from his throat, setting his chest vibrating against yours. “Tell me.”

Cupping his face, you brought his mouth down. Kissing him softly, small pecks which matched the flex of his hips, you whispered against his mouth, “I love the way you make love to me.”

“Baby,” he sighed, running his nose along your jawline.  “Jeg elsker deg.”

“I love you, too, Stevie.” Stroking his cheek, you let your leg slide from his shoulder to his elbow.

He shifted enough to allow you leg fall to his waist, then lowered himself down, stretched himself over you, pressing you firmly into the bed where he took his hands over your sides.

Burying your hands in his hair, you whimpered when he went still.  

His hips held yours down. His body both restraining and comforting. “I missed you. It was only three days, but I missed you. I missed the softness of your skin against mine and the way you sleep on my chest at night. I missed the scent of your hair. I missed these eyes,” he murmured, placing a gentle touch to your cheek. “I missed your smile and your laugh.” He pressed a kiss to the hollow of your throat. “I missed the smell of your skin, especially right here.” He lifted up enough to rub his nose between your breasts.

“Steve,” you sighed softly, heart full with his tenderness.

“It was three days, but it felt like three weeks.” He linked your hands together, stretching them up over your head. “I want to spend three days right here,” he crooned, flexing his hips and driving himself deeper.

“Fuck, Steve!”

“I am, sweetheart.” His mouth fell to your throat as short thrust started again. He was so deep, and so big, and so hard, it took very little movement on his part to send you spiraling.

Clenching your hands in his, you held on, unable to do anything but ride the wave of slowly building pleasure twisting in your belly. The short strokes saw his ridge catching on your sweet spot over and over and over. His lips pulled and sucked at your throat, leaving what you were sure would be a dark hickey. It would last a few hours before disappearing, aided by your healing abilities, but while it marked your skin, you would wear it proudly.

Heated skin, growing slick with sweat, moved together in an age-old dance of passion. Your body grew taut, your muscles shaking, your soft cries growing in volume as you reached for the heights. Each thrust took you up higher. Drove you on to reach for more when the spiraling coil in your belly finally gave with a snap, flooding your core with ecstasy, leaving you in a state of blissed-out moaning.

Panting, his heart beating hard against you, Steve rested his forehead on yours and rode out the clenching, clamping grip of your walls. Once the wave of your orgasm had slowed, he pulled away.

“Min vakre skjoldpike,” he whispered placing kisses on your face and chest as his hands went to your hips. “Let go with your legs, baby.”

Letting them drop to the bed, you giggled when you found yourself flipped to your belly. “Ooh, kinky.”

Sinking back between your legs, Steve settled himself at your entrance and dropped a half dozen kisses on your spine. “You would know,” he chuckled. Thrusting hard, he buried himself back in your body making you gasp in shocked pleasure.

“Fuck,” you moaned, turning your face to the mattress to stifle your voice.

Steve’s fingers threaded into your hair, closed in a fist and lifted your head. “Don’t, baby doll. I want to hear your voice.” The surging of his hips intensified, driving deep, thrusting directly into your g-spot.

Clenching your fists in the bedding, you nearly howled in pleasure. The weight of Steve against your spine kept you from moving. Completely at his mercy, you gave yourself over to his care, soaking in the scent that was uniquely Steve, wallowing in the way he knew you so well he could play your body like an instrument.

The tug at your hair with each downward thrust of his hips had you releasing a high pitched whine. He let go only to wrap that big hand around your throat, holding you gently so he could run his lips and teeth over your ear. “Missed this, too, doll face. Missed the way your body responds. Missed the way you moan my name. Missed the way you come on my cock.”

His words sent a clutch to your core, clamping down on him as the heat in your belly grew again.

“Just like that, baby. Want to feel you come on my cock. Squeeze it and milk it as only you can. Min vakre skjoldpike, jeg elsker deg.”

When he called you his shield maiden and told you he loved you, you could no longer fight the fire growing inside you, didn’t want to, and screamed out, “Steve!” when his teeth sank into your shoulder. Drowning in his scent, the pounding of his heart was all you could hear over the roaring of your blood in your ears.

You cried out again when the inferno which had been slowly growing raged into life, bursting outwards in streaks of pleasure through all your limbs. Your walls locked down around him, squeezing a shocked grunt from Steve.

Only a few hard thrusts more saw him swelling inside you, stretching your already tight channel, sending you into another round of moaning, screaming pleasure when he emptied himself out and let his head fall between your shoulder blades.

Slumping down, you gasped for air in tandem beneath your heavy as hell sjelevenn. Not that you would ever complain. The weight of him made you feel safe, and, in a way, powerful to have taken down this giant of a man with nothing more than a look and a shimmy out of your clothes.

He shifted enough to roll you both to your sides, spooning up against you with a sigh of contentment. “That was some welcome home, doll.” Big hands traced patterns on your torso, one coming up to gently knead a breast.

“It was fun,” you sighed, enjoying the small sparks and little whips of pleasure his hand on your breast was providing. Rolling over, you let your legs tangle and settled against his chest. When his fingers began running up and down your spine, you slowly took yours over his pecs and abs. “We should play tag more often.”

“Only if it ends with you naked,” he chuckled, kissing your forehead.

Rubbing your nose against his heart, you smiled. “I’m pretty sure that could be arranged.”

“You’re getting real good at the whole seeing without seeing thing.”

“Still can’t quite get a handle on it in a fight,” you sighed, a little sad. “Matt put me on my ass today.”

Steve drew you closer. “You’re gonna get there, (Y/N). I know you will.”

Heaving a sigh, you nodded. “I know. I just wish it was faster. I haven’t felt this… amateurish in a very long time. And we haven't even started on weapons yet, just hand to hand.”

He brushed the hair from your cheek. “It’s a whole new ballgame, doll. It’s gonna take time. Have patience.”

“I don’t wanna,” you pouted, scratching at his chest.

Laughing, he caught the fingers of your right hand and brought them to his lips. “Where're your claws, pretty kitty?”

“Took it off when I had my shower. Left it in the bathroom when you landed.”

“You were in that much of a hurry, hm?”

Laughing, you rolled him to his back and straddled his abs. “Well, I may have been missing you a little.”

“Only a little?”

Smirking, you leaned closer till your breasts brushed over his chest, causing a pleased hum to rumble in his throat. “Maybe more than a little.”

You were just about to kiss him, Steve’s hands massaging your ass, getting ready for round two when you felt it. A hum of static in the air. Your groan turned swiftly into a growl of annoyance.

“What? What is it?” Steve had long since stopped second guessing what you knew in advance of him.

“The bifröst is opening.” Sighing, you flopped down on top of Steve like a limp noodle.

His arms immediately went around you. “I won’t let them bully you.”

“Steve…”

“No.”

Sighing, you tucked your face against his throat. “It’s been a month.”

“Not long enough.”

“Thor did apologize before he went home. He didn’t mean to upset me.”

“Loki didn’t.”

There was a distinct note of annoyance in Steve’s voice. “And he won’t. It’s Loki.” An apology from Loki would be a long time in coming. He would rather make a peace offering, a grand gesture, than every say he was sorry.

“I don’t like how they tried to guilt you into returning to Asgard.”

“You made that perfectly clear.”

“Hm. I hope so,” he huffed.

Kissing his jaw, you made to sit up only to find yourself stuck. “Let me up, Steve.”

“Three days.”

You could hear the pout in his voice, feel it through his touch. “I know, sjelevenn.”

“Stay.”

“If it’s Loki, he’ll come looking for me.”

Steve rolled you beneath him. “Then he’ll learn to wait.”

“He’s not good with waiting,” you snickered.

“He’ll learn.”

When the length of Steve’s erection nudged insistently at your thigh, you smiled. “Yeah, I guess he will.”

Next Chapter

[marvelousbirthdays]

Happy Birthday, masquerade122!

December 22 - Daredevil/Sif, Continued from last year’s prompt, Matt introducing his soulmate to everybody? Just the thought of Foggy meeting Lady Sif makes me cackle inside, for @masquerade122

Continues from http://archiveofourown.org/works/6561112/chapters/20483767

Written by @ozhawkauthor

Explaining to Sif that he was a lawyer by day, undercover vigilante by night, took quite some doing. Apparently legal representation wasn’t a thing on Asgard, since Odin just looked into your soul and decided whether you were guilty or not. Matt almost had palpitations at the mere thought.

“I still do not understand why you do not allow others to know your identity,” Sif was sitting cross-legged on his kitchen counter, munching on an apple. “Surely your city guards would welcome you working among them?”

“Police. We call the police. And no, the NYPD don’t look kindly on people who take justice into their own hands.”

“But they were not there when those three planned to attack me. What was I supposed to do?”

Smiling tightly, Matt shook his head. “You’re allowed to fight back to save yourself. You’re just not supposed to intervene on behalf of other people. Especially not pre-emptively.”

He was pretty sure she still didn’t get it, but she didn’t ask any more questions, just bit down into her apple with another juicy crunch.

Foggy. Foggy, his phone announced loudly, and he fished it out of his pocket.

“Hey.”

“So are you spending the night on the rooftops, or did you forget it’s Wednesday?”

“Wednesday?”

Foggy’s sigh was exasperated. “The first Wednesday of the month, Matt. You remember? That regular thing we do when Danny buys us all the Chinese food and we argue about who did what and I figure out how to keep Jessica out of jail?”

Matt scowled and pressed his fist to his forehead. “Oh. That Wednesday.”

“You really need to be here. Danny has his Existential Dread face on again, Karen thinks Frank’s been up to something, and Jessica’s already three sheets to the wind.”

“Jessica’s always like that.”

“True. Still, it’d be awesome if you got here before I have to beg Luke to carry her home.”

Matt turned towards Sif, who’d finished her apple and was now prowling around his apartment looking at things. “It’s… complicated tonight, Foggy.”

“It’s always fucking complicated with you.”

“This is… different. I met my soulmate.”

“You what?” Foggy’s shriek was girlish. “Matt met his soulmate!” he said loudly, and there was a sudden cacophony at the other end of the phone. Wincing, Matt held it further away.

“You’d better get down here, or we’re all coming to you, and I’m certain you don’t have enough booze,” Foggy said, laughing.

Matt could hear Claire and Karen in the background, both loudly making plans to come over to his place right that moment. “Okay, okay,” he said with a chuckle. “I give. The thing is, Foggy… she’s Asgardian.”

There was a shocked silence for a moment, and then Foggy said “If you’re not here in ten minutes, I’m not gonna be able to hold them back.”

Sif was perfectly amenable to going back out to meet Matt’s friends. He suggested that they’d be a lot of extra eyes to help look for Odin, Jessica in particular as a PI, and Luke’s network of informants in Harlem.

“I am eager to meet your friends even if they are not able to help, Matthew. Am I suitably attired to go to the place where you meet?”

“Well,” he cracked a grin, “you’re a lot better dressed for it than most. It’s just a Chinese restaurant. Not far, a couple of blocks away.”

He made a quick change into jeans and a sweater, aware of her watching him peel out of his suit. Every fibre of his body was aware of her, of the almost-silent grace of her movements, the strange density of her body, the powerful boom of her heart. She was so different to a normal human, even though outwardly she might seem the same. Fumbling his boots on, he picked up his cane.

“What is that for?” Sif asked curiously as he unfolded it.

“Well… I don’t actually need it, but…” He ended up spending the entire walk to the restaurant explaining the aesthetics of using the cane and how the simple fact of carrying it made people believe he was truly completely blind even if he accidentally did something which should otherwise clue them in to the fact he was more aware of his surroundings than someone who should not be able to see them.

“This smells good.” Sif sniffed the air outside the restaurant as they arrived.

“We hire the whole place out once a month. Well. Danny does. He’s the one with the money. Er…” it occurred to him that the Asgardians might know about K’un L’un and the Immortal Iron Fist and the dragons. He had no idea how old Sif was, but he knew Asgardians were basically immortal themselves.

“Er?” Sif said, pushing open the door.

“Never mind.”

His friends were seated at one big table at the centre of the room, all rising to their feet with cries of greeting as they entered, Foggy approaching first. Matt could hear the shit-eating grin in his best friend’s voice as Foggy said;

“So you’re the unlucky lady who’s stuck with Matt as a soulmate.”

Sif smiled, and Matt sensed Foggy actually taking a half-step back, knocked sideways by the impact of her beauty. “I do not consider myself unlucky. I have been searching for Matthew for centuries.”

“Usual rules apply,” Matt grabbed Karen’s arm as she stepped forward, her mouth opening. “You can’t write about anything you hear in this room.”

She pouted, but nodded. “Is she staying? Another Asgardian in New York is news, you know that. Can she do stuff like Thor?”

“Well, I have no hammer with which to fly and cast lightning bolts,” Sif said, “but I am considered a superior warrior in my own right.”

Colleen seemed edgy, sidling towards the pile of weapons left at the side of the room, at least until Luke made a small movement and was suddenly standing between her and them.

“Don’t do anything foolish now,” he rumbled softly, and Colleen stilled. Danny reached out to catch her wrist, pull her back to his side.

“I’ve heard about the female warriors of Asgard. The Valkyrie,” Danny said, and Sif immediately turned to face him, her posture stiffening.

“The Valkyrie have been gone for three millennia. Who on Midgard still recalls their legend?”

“The monks of K’un L’un,” Danny offered her a small bow.

Matt heard Sif’s breathing change, sensed her shift in posture. “That is a name I have not heard for a very long time.” Her tone was lower. Steady.

“If you’re going to fight,” Jessica said from her seat at the table, from which she was the only one who hadn’t bothered to rise, “take it outside? I have the feeling you guys would really mess this place up and I’m actually enjoying these dim sum.”

Sif was the one who laughed first, relaxing. Danny hadn’t taken a defensive stance, which probably helped, Matt thought.

“Are you Jessica Jones?”

Jess tilted her head, smiled curiously. “I am. Somehow I didn’t think news of my fame had reached Asgard, though.”

“Not yet,” Sif said diplomatically, “though when I first met Matthew, he said that ‘even Jessica Jones’ didn’t hit as hard as I do.”

“Interesting.” Jessica kicked out the chair next to her with a grin. “Maybe we could find a way to test it out. Luke might volunteer.”

“Thanks, I’ll pass,” Luke said dryly, retaking his own seat across the table as Sif accepted the offered chair.

Claire was the only one who hadn’t said or done anything, just watched with an intrigued expression on her face. She turned her head towards Matt and he heard her speak under her breath, too quiet for anyone but him to hear.

“She’s stunning, Matt. Did you know?”

He hadn’t, not really. Oh, he knew she was long-limbed and slender, and he’d sensed plenty of heads turning as they walked along the street together. Even the way Foggy had stepped back as though knocked sideways had been a clue, but he hadn’t yet touched her face, explored her with his hands.

Sif reached out and took his hand in hers, pulling lightly. “Come and sit down, Matthew. You must be hungry. Tell me, what is in this?” She drew a plate towards her.

“Pork,” Matt said automatically, “in a spicy sauce.” He slipped into the seat beside her, sensed Foggy taking a seat on his other side, peering at Sif in utter fascination. Danny set a beer bottle down in front of him, offered one to Sif.

“It’s beer,” Matt said, wondering if they even had beer on Asgard. “It’s a mildly fermented beverage made from hops and barley…”

“I remember beer! They still have it? It was all anyone drank, back in the eighth century.” Sif took a long swig, sighed with pleasure. “Aaahhh. Well, I must say that Midgard’s brewers have certainly improved their craft!”

Just about everyone around the table was spluttering at Sif’s casual mention of the eighth century. Matt sat back, grinning. It was very clear that his soulmate was going to fit right in with his happy band of misfits.

[dykerory]

Dragon!Defenders Headcanons

@jq-piccadilly​ <3

It’s no wonder they thought he was the devil, at first. Matt’s dragon form is terrifying, especially in darkness. He’s a deep, blood red, with amber eyes that seem to glow in the dark. He has two, beautifully goat horns on his forehead, and a wickedly sharp arrowhead at the end of his tail. His scales are leathery, which is great for maneuverability, but bad for direct defense. Matt is littered in scars, which only serves to terrify his enemies more. Matt doesn’t fly, as his radar sense is no help to him in midair, so he prefers to climb, jump, and glide around the city. As a result, his legs are particularly muscular. Matt uses his tail like a fifth limb, and one of his favorite intimidation tactics is letting people dangle from his tail off the side of a building. Matt is about the size of a tiger.

Jessica, on the other had, was built for stealth and speed. Her feathers are an inky blue-purple that allows her to disappear into any shadows, and she’s only about the size of a cheetah. Because of her lack of scales, Jessica is the most easily damageable defender. However, Jessica is also the fastest of the group, as well as the best flier. She has a graceful, swanlike neck, a slightly beaky snout, and intense, black, bird-like eyes that shine with mischief and intelligence (when she’s not drunk off her ass). Only one (1) person has ever touched Jess’s feathers, but according to legend, they’re supernaturally soft. Not that Trish would ever spread that rumor, of course.

Luke is the complete opposite of Jessica. He’s a tank in every sense of the word- his scales have never been pierced (yes, even the leathery wings) and he plans to keep it that way, thank you very much. He’s the largest (about the size of a rhino) and slowest of the group, so he focuses on defense and using himself as a battering ram. HIs claws and teeth are the hardest as well. He has short black horns that line his jawbones and temples. Patrolling the streets of harlem, he makes a splendid sight- a gleaming, golden giant glinting in the sunlight. More often than not, you can spot the younger children climbing on his back and catching a ride, warmed by the fire within during those old new york winters.

Danny is a light green, with glittering emerald eyes and a lion-like head, complete with a  long tawny mane that lines his head and neck. He’s only slightly smaller than Matt, but it annoys him to no end to be the second smallest of the group. His antlers resemble that of a stag, including the velvety texture. He’s a decent flyer and fighter, but his real specialty is healing. Danny posses a unique breath attack that allows him to heal any physical wounds his teammates have gotten almost instantly. This unique ability was passed on to him by Shou-Lao. Danny would rather not talk about the time he got gum stuck in his mane and colleen had to shave it off, while not laughing her ass off.

Danny is also the only one who knows anything about dragon culture, having been raised among the last great colony of them in K’un Lun. Matt, Jess, and Luke were all remnants of the last wild magic in the world, and were all raised by human parents. Matt knows a little from what Stick taught him, but he never had any use for it, as he’d never met any other dragons besides Stick.

He teaches them that as humans, they retain certain draconic characteristics, which explains Jessica’s strength, Luke’s impenetrable skin, and Matt’s radar sense. He also explains to them that any injuries they get in one form carries to the other, and that if they retain great damage as a dragon, they need to stay in that form an heal for a little bit, or else their human forms would die almost instantly, unable to withstand the wounds.

When he tries to tell them about the flock instinct inherent in all dragons, Jess and Matt scoff at him, rolling their eyes and telling him that they’ve been lone-wolfing it their whole lives, thanks, and they don’t need anyone slowing them down now. When they both show up at his and Luke’s door, looking pathetic and lackluster, Danny doesn’t even say he told them so. Externally. Internally he’s totally shoving it in their face. Surprisingly, dragon flocks can include any species, so the human friends, family, and lovers of the team slowly become a common sight in the frankly ridiculous penthouse Danny bought as dragon HQ.

The other dragons take Matt out for a fly one night, despite him never having flown before, unless you count that one disastrous attempt with stick. He’s nervous and thinks it’s a bad idea, but his teammates assure him that his instincts will take over, and that it’ll be as natural as anything. Plus, Luke promises, he’ll be there to catch Matt if he falls out of the sky like a stone. This doesn’t reassure Matt. But when he’s finally in the air, feeling the rush of the wind over his face and the starlight on his back, with Jessica beating Danny in every kind of race or acrobatics competition he can suggest, with Luke watching with a secret smirk that says he’s amused and endeared, Matt feels safe.

About a year after the events of the defenders, a small, pitch black dragon the eyes the color of snow shows up at danny’s door, bedraggled and suffering from lack of a flock. Elektra has scales of obsidian and has the rare advantage of being both heavily armored and fast. Jagged black spines line her neck and back, and are so sharp that just looking at them might give you a cut. She doesn’t have a breath attack per se, but a bite from her will fester and infect within a matter of minutes. Elektra is larger than Jess, but smaller than Danny.

It takes a while for the flock to trust her, but after a while, it’s not uncommon to see Elektra nestled under one of Luke’s enormous wings, humming contentedly, or play-fighting with Jessica, or discussing some obscure draconic poetry with Danny. Matt and Elektra avoid each other as much as possible, each thinking the other must want nothing to do with them, until finally everyone is sick of it, and locks them in the meditation room (unofficially dubbed the “naughty lizard time-out room” by the humans).

When they finally let elektra and Matt out later, they’ve made up and forgiven each other. Danny is proud of himself, until he realizes later that Matt and elektra are a deadly pranking team. He finds this out because Elektra and Matt had convinced him that “fisting” someone meant helping them in any way, and he’d looked Claire dead in the eyes and asked if she wanted him to fist her. Jess had laughed until she cried and couldn’t breathe, and Karen and Foggy kept offering to fist everyone for the next week, then bursting into giggles. Claire accepted Danny’s increasingly frantic apologies with grace, but as soon as he was out of earshot, she and Luke fucking d i e d.

[seven-times]

fic piece under the jump

#whatever happened to that old song? #

We watched our friends grow up together And we saw them as they fell Some of them fell into Heaven Some of them fell into Hell I took shelter from a shower And I stepped into your arms On a rainy night in Soho The wind was whistling all its charms... ...I'm not singing for the future I'm not dreaming of the past I'm not talking of the first times I never think about the last Now, the song is nearly over We may never find out what it means Still, there's a light I hold before me You're the measure of my dreams, the measure of my dreams — The Pogues, "A Rainy Night In Soho"

#

985, Deep Sea Research Center

Ellie never sees their faces.  They come and they go, and they're always wearing those stupid doctor's masks.  They never touch her, either; they're always very careful about that.  Nobody takes her by the arm to escort her anywhere.  And the whole building is a circle; if she decides to split off from the path they're taking, she either ends up at an elevator she needs them to open for her, or she ends up where they wanted her anyway.  Eventually.

They don't talk much, either, and when they do, their voices are always quiet.  The loudest one — Nobu — speaks with an accent she doesn't recognize.  Sometimes, though never during the day, Nobu wakes her up with the food buzzer and takes her to a balcony — the railing is electrified — so she can see the sea that surrounds them.  It's endless water, churning and dark, white waves frothing up so close she could almost touch them.

"Leviathan is angry," he tells her one of those nights, staring not out at the water but up at the stars.  "The Brothers are angry.  Bahamut is angry.  The world is not what it should be."

He didn't ask her any questions, so she doesn't say anything.  It's just safer not to talk unless they want her to.  She hates that she knows what's safe and what isn't, that she cares, and there's something in her head that hates it, too.  It's angry all the time, and not just get-mad-and-yell angry, but the kind of angry that throws and breaks things and tries to hurt people.

She doesn't think it's always been there.  But she can't remember a time without it.

"You, Elektra," Nobu says, "will help us make the world right again.  For Leviathan, and the Brothers, and Bahamut.  You will make all the skies as black as this one, won't you?"

Ellie says, "Yes," and the thing that curls around the back of the inside of her head seems to smile.

#

996, Dollet

The exam is going basically swimmingly, with them waiting for the retreat order, and Foggy has himself almost convinced that he really <i>can</i> be a SeeD.  He'll just keep using his Para-Magic, and the hurting and the killing people will all blur in with the good stuff, like Matt discovering a box of kittens in a war zone or Marci and a little blond girl smiling at each other.  It'll be okay, he's telling himself; he and Matt and Marci can do this.

He's still telling hiself that when the giant robot spider shows up.  They hear it first, and Matt turns in the direction it's coming from.

"It's big," he says — like Foggy couldn't have guessed that — and then adds, "Metal?  Machinery?  It's — it has a lot of legs?"

Marci's off the apartment stoop in seconds, knife in her hand.  It won't do her any good against a tank, but she's their demolition man, too, and she's got the look on her face that means she's thinking of how she's going to blow something up.  She tucks the knife back into one of her boots and reaches for the team's grenades.  Foggy watches her eyes narrow, but Matt is turned northward, toward the godawful rumble, and his whole body is tense.

"We need to run," he says, and he's already tucked his escrima sticks back into their holster at his belt.  He doesn't even bother to adjust the band on his sunglasses the way he usually does when he's preparing to do something athletic.  "The retreat order's been given."

Foggy doesn't even bother to ask how Matt knows that.  He just checks the baldric holding his trident against his back and flails silently at Marci until she puts the explosives away.

The thing they thought was some kind of weird tank turns out to be a giant robot spider.  It's literally as tall as the buildings in downtown Dollet, and it's chasing three other SeeD cadets.  Foggy's pretty sure he recognizes Dincht — the wild, electrified hair and the face tattoo pretty much give it away — but they don't have time; they're right on the heels of the spider and the other SeeDs, trying to make it back to the harbor.

They almost make it.  Hell, they're only a block away from the harbor when it all turns to complete and total shit.  But there's a balcony-bridge thing that connects two buildings across the street from each other, and as Marci — always the fastest of the three of them — turns to run under it, the spider does, too.

The spider doesn't bother jumping, or lifting any of its legs higher, or ducking.  The spider just fucking slams into the skybridge and huge chunks of stone start to fall immediately.  It keeps moving forward and Marci tries to stop herself.

No amount of Para-Magic is ever going to blur away the moment that Marci ends up going under the falling bridge, turning her forward momentum into a desperate slide, and a chunk of rock bigger than her upper body hits her outstretched leg.  He will always remember the snap-crunch, the way her whole face twists, the way her body bends in on itself for a moment.

He flings out a hand and casts Protect on her.

The bridge keeps tumbling down, and her face, pale and tight with pain, is the last thing he sees before the dust cloud rises.

#

1006, Dollet

Maybe it's something about being this far north, or maybe the wind off the sea has blown in yet another little squall, but it's raining in Dollet again, Karen notices as she steps onto the street.  Drizzling, really; an endless-feeling fall of gray rain onto dark gray cobblestones, with a gray sky overhead.  She doesn't own an umbrella anymore, so she stops at one of the many little street-side coffee stands to pick up a tray of coffees and a newspaper.

It's made the front pages of three different newspapers.  Three headlines, but they all mean: insurgents have attacked the radio tower.  Again.

She looks automatically north, up at the radio tower.  There's a little building at the base of the Dollet cliffs, where the radio team do most of their broadcasting from, but that's never been the insurgents' target.  No, they want the tower.  The same tower that Galbadia had wanted ten years ago.

She hands over a few crumpled gil and takes everything, holding the paper over her head as she keeps making her way uptown.  A simple Protect spell and the paper keep the rain out of her face as she passes shopfronts and cafes and art galleries tucked in next to houses that grow more and more ramshackle.  Nelson & Murdock rent a shop underneath a lodging house, one of the rare basements in Dollet, and she smiles as she heads in.

Foggy opens the door for her.  He reaches out to steady her as her heel sticks — again — on the final step and she lurches a little into the office.  She drops her grip on the newspaper and saves the coffee, even as he catches her gently by the shoulders.  It's quick, it's easy, it happens every damn time it rains, and the only reason she even notices it this morning is the concern all over his face as they disentangle and he bends to grab the newspaper.

He's tossed it into the nearest trash can by the time she sets the coffee down on the front desk.

"Estharica for all of us," she says.  "Good morning, Foggy.  You're here early."

Foggy's answering smile is strained, and so is his return greeting, but he takes the coffee.  Makes a big show of sniffing it and saying, "Oh, this is going to taste so good.  Get in my belly, coffee.  So much better than Karen's, yes you are."

"Thanks," she says dryly, and he flashes her a smile that's a lot closer to genuine.  

"Good to see you," he tells her, and he sounds relieved enough that she might need to worry.

"Is Matt in yet?"

Foggy's whole expression darkens.  He shakes his head before sitting heavily in one of the office chairs.  "And you'll notice that there aren't any clients in the house today.  It's not that I object to you working for the radio station, Karen.  Hyne knows we're all working wherever we can.  This whole city's economy is in the shitter.  But you've got to stop —"

"Stop what, doing my job?"

"Your other job."  He says it so firmly that she's suddenly reminded of his past in SeeD.  "We're your day job, Karen.  I get your commitment to the truth — I totally respect it.  But can you be a little less committed to truths Reyes will blacklist us for?"

"What won't she blacklist us for?"

"You could talk about the kitten that Galbadian soldier pulled out of the wreckage of the X-ATM092," he points out, like that's at all helpful.  "You could, I don't know, not talk about what the Estharian Peace Keeper brigade is going to find when they come back here.  You could talk about how Dollet has welcomed its new Galbadian overlords peacefully for the last ten years."

She points at the newspaper.  "Peacefully?"

He shrugs.  "You don't have to talk about —"

The bell over the door chimes, and they both turn.  A woman wearing the kind of dress Karen is pretty sure only appears on mannequins in Deling City has stepped into their office.  The dress itself is black, and sleek, and the boots she wears with it are flat-soled enough to be practical, but hug the curve of her calf — and are bright red.

The woman sweeps her gaze over the office, and then her eyes light on Foggy.  Her expression changes to something that's either disinterest or distaste.  "Franklin," she says.

"Elektra."  Foggy's voice starts cold, but turns brightly sarcastic.  "How nice to see you again!  When will you leave?  I mean, don't let us keep you; I'm sure you have islands to buy.  Unless you're back to using Daddy's money to play with SeeD?"

"My father died last week, Franklin," she says.  "And I really don't understand your hostility to me.  I know your little business is struggling —"

"This is Dollet.  Everyone's business is struggling," he snaps.  "Doesn't mean we want anything from you.  Of all the law offices in all the world, why did you think you could walk into mine?"

"Yours and Matthew's," she corrects, almost gently.

Foggy stares at her for what feels like a long, long time.

When it's clear he's not about to answer that, the woman — Elektra — says,  "I'm here because I need a lawyer.  I've noticed that a stream of my father's profits in Esthar are going to some very interesting places indeed.  I'd like to — fully investigate my options regarding those funds."

Karen picks up the coffee tray and settles herself on the other side of the desk.  She'd been intending to run the accounting software today.  Might as well dive into that so that Foggy will take this client back into his office and yell at her there, leaving Karen and what he likes to call her "truth habit" safely out of it.

"That sounds great," Foggy says in a tone that is actively insincere.  "Why don't you go fully investigate the other side of that door?"

Elektra smiles.  She reaches into an expensive-looking purse and drops a business card onto Karen's desk.  Then she bends down, flips it over, and scrawls a series of numbers on the back.  "You can reach me here, while I'm in town.  Call if you change your mind."

And then she's gone in a swirl of black fabric, leaving only an elegant business card and the scent of Galbana lilies.  The bell over the door somehow doesn't chime when she swings the door open.

And Foggy deflates.  He slumps into one of the chairs by Karen's desk.  He seems at once to scrunch himself so he can fit, even as his legs sprawl out on the floor.  It's a position she associates more with melodramatic teenagers than frustrated lawyer.  Eventually, he brings his hand up to rub at his forehead and sighs.

"First you and the radio," he says.  "And then Matt — and now this.  I might as well get the hell out of here and go back to Balamb.  Their economy can't possibly be as hopelessly fucked as Dollet."

She doesn't ask what's wrong with Matt.  She's got a good idea she already knows.

[ninzied]

For the kisses prompts - Kastle + 12 💕

Sneaking away to a hidden corner to share a secretive kiss.

…

One thing that surprises Karen more than it should about Frank is how tactile he is—how much he loves to just touch her in small ways, every opportunity he gets.

It makes her think about how careful he’d been, before. How he’d held himself back, touching her only when they balanced on the knife’s edge of fear. Pulling her close. Letting her go.

He doesn’t let go anymore.

Still, Frank is no less careful now, at least when they’re in public. The most obvious thing he’ll do is hold her hand while they walk, brush a kiss to her forehead before getting them another pint of beer from the bar.

Sometimes it’s just a look—a brief glance as she returns from the bathroom, or something more sidelong when she’s laughing at a joke Foggy just made—but she feels the heat of it like a caress, and it lingers there on her skin even when he’s no longer looking at her.

His hand will find her then instead, fingertips light on the small of her back, the inside of her wrist, the curve of her hipbone. As if to reassure himself that she’s alive, that she’s there, with him.

He’s doubly cautious when he visits her at work.

It’s not for Foggy’s sake, though he had his fair share of heart attacks when Frank first started coming around. The stiff sort of civility they had toward each other has even relaxed into something like friendship between them, which is how Foggy winds up drinking with them every other week or so.

Matt, of course, is another story.

They both work half-days on Fridays, Frank stopping by around lunchtime with a cruffin from their favorite place on the Lower East Side. He typically makes small talk with Foggy as Karen packs up her things in between bites of her pastry. He only nods at Matt in a mutually grim gesture of acknowledgment before they’re turning to go.

He waits until they’re near the park—a good five blocks from her building—before snaking an arm around her waist, tugging her close and kissing her breathless beneath the trees.

On one particular Friday afternoon, however, they find they have the office to themselves. Foggy has just gone to lunch with Marci, and Matt has been out all morning, meeting with a potential new client.

Karen’s in the kitchenette, brewing two cups of coffee to go when Frank appears in the doorway. She barely has a moment to smile at him when he’s crowding her back against the counter, hands on both her hips.

She bites her lip in anticipation, but when he leans in it’s to press his mouth to the length of her neck instead, tonguing a slow, heated kiss up to her jawline.

She clutches at him, head falling back with a soft-throated sigh.

He’s working his way up to the corner of her mouth when they hear the faint sound of voices, footsteps drawing close in the hall, and the unmistakable tap, tap, tap of Matt’s cane.

Frank releases a breath, a softly uttered Fuck against her skin before letting her go and stepping away. Karen almost loses her balance, gripping the edge of the counter as she wills her heart rate and breathing to slow.

Frank seems to be recovering quicker than she is, and she feels a lick of irritation flare up inside her. She understands his need to keep things private between them—every touch is so intimate to him that he can’t bear to have any other part of the world weighing in. But this is, quite frankly, unfair.

His eyes darken a little as she approaches him with deliberate slowness.

The door to their office unlatches, Matt’s voice filtering into the background as Karen presses herself up against Frank. He goes very still, eyes shuttering closed, throat bobbing on a low, strained-sounding groan as she snags his earlobe between her teeth, biting gently down.

She’s glancing blithely up from the coffee maker when Matt comes in, his own face carefully flat and blank as he introduces the new client to them. Frank is scrubbing a hand over his nape, the tips of his ears still pink as he manages out a hoarse hello.

Karen hands him a fresh cup of coffee, and smiles.

[edourado]

Karedevil prompt: OK, this just came to me this morning, with winter descending upon us and me trying to fight off a cold; I've read several "Karen takes care of Matt while he's sick" fics, but I'd love to see a "Matt takes care of (or at least attempts to) Karen".

Hello, Anon. Yes, I’m aware that winter has come and gone for you (I’m assuming). But here I am, and here it is, your prompt, finally. 

It took an angsty turn. I’m sorry, I know you were hoping for fluff, and I fully intended to write it, but there, out of nowhere, I had ten pages of angsty stuff. Hope you like it, anyway. 

Enjoy, and thanks for your prompt ♥

No Love Left to Waste

Matt knew that he deserved what he got from Karen and Foggy these days. 

Everything that had happened that year was complicated. The presence of Elektra made him do some pretty stupid shit, like lying to his business partner and secretary, legal assistant, girlfriend. His friends. Yes, there was a ton of shit within himself he had to sort out.  Yes, Elektra did help him realise that he could not keep what he had going on up for much longer. Yes, everything was a mess. 

Yes, he fucked up. And no, it was not Foggy’s fault. Nor was it Karen’s.

He understood she needed time. She was not as mad as she had been, initially, once he explained, once he told her, once he came clean. She was hurt - didn’t tell him, but he could feel it. He felt it every time she moved or spoke or blinked or swallowed or tried to hide it.

She was not mad, but she was not too happy, either. They talked, she helped him, he helped her, she even smiled here and there. But it was still so strange, there was this huge gap that wasn’t there before.

That’s why he understood when he had to find out through Foggy that she was sick as a dog, caught too many times under the harsh winter weather.

“Why do you smell like chicken?” he had asked Foggy when they met in his fancy office on Wednesday, after hours.

“Oh”, he said, typing on his office computer. “I took some soup to Karen at lunch. She’s super sick, poor thing. Oh, shit, I’m in. I’m hacking my office. No big deal.”

They went to work after that, collecting important information Matt needed (well, Jessica needed), counting the minutes until the cameras started working again.

Almost two hours later, they walked out, Matt waving his cane around and holding Foggy’s arm, for the security guard’s benefit. No way the new goofy, technologically challenged and harmless looking guy and his blind friend had anything to do with the cameras powering down, right?

“So Karen’s sick?” he asked once they reached the sidewalk.

“Yeah”, Foggy confirmed. “I told her to take care of herself, but you know that one. Once she sets her mind on something…” 

Matt tried not to be obvious about the fact that he didn’t know about that.

“How you guys doing?” Foggy asked and Matt raised his brows, sighing.

“Ok, I guess.”

”Yeah, sure, that totally sounds true.”

“I don’t know, man”, he said. “I told her everything, she had a bunch of questions, I did my best to answer them, she understood. It’s just…”

“Not the same.”

“Yeah. And she’s not, like, lying to me or pushing me away or anything, but she’s… Closed off.”

They walked a few steps further.

“I think she needs some time, man. It’s a lot to process, what with Elektra and what happened between you guys and everything…”

“Yeah”, he said, feeling the wind pick up and sting his face. “Yeah, I know.”

Foggy got in a cab and Matt got in another. After giving his address to the driver, he sat back and thought about his current situation with Karen.

He knew, of course he knew, that seeing Elektra in his bed stung. And, after he told her and explained why she was there, it didn’t make it any better. Karen is an intelligent woman. She did not ask him further about their involvement, just took what he offered and that was enough for her to reach her own - the right - conclusions.

“We were not…” he had told her. “We were not involved, Karen, not anymore. She had been poisoned, Stick had just saved her life.”

She had stood there, hip against the empty office window, arms crossed, looking at him, thinking about it, not mad, not angry, listening, but closed off, reserved, hurt, she was still very hurt.

“I believe you”, she said when he started promising her he was telling the truth.

And, his senses always so sharp, he heard what she didn’t say.

“I actually don’t.”

And maybe his senses were super humanly sharp, but, in that moment, he wondered if Karen‘s were, too, since, even as he did not tell her of all the intimate moments he had shared with Elektra these past few months (the decoy kiss, the innuendos, the jokes, the mapping of each other’s scars, plans of running away together), she seemed to see them, to watch those moments as he remembered them.

Since then, that tension remained. For the rest of their talk, all throughout their next ones, even when she tried to act like it was OK, when he tried to tell himself he was imagining it.

Almost a year later and it was still there. And now she was sick,enough to miss work and enough to make Foggy use his lunch break to get her soup.

The cab left him in front of his building, and he climbed the stairs and walked through his own door in a haze.

A year ago, he would not have to find out by someone else. A year ago, he would have heard it in her voice, felt the extra heat of her skin, he would have known just by being in her presence.

Now, he didn’t know because she kept their contact to a minimum. And he couldn’t blame her, but accepting it was proving to be a challenge, too.

He changed into casual clothes and walked out again, hoodie over his head, hiding his face.

When Matt got to the corner of her street, he walked towards the alley that gave him access to her fire escape.

It didn’t take long for him to locate her. Her apartment was quiet, there was no movement, aside from her laboured breathing. She was in bed, surrounded by an armour made of blankets and pillows, almost fully asleep.

Matt thought about taking the main entrance, climbing the stairs and knocking, giving her the chance to refuse him. But she was warm in her bed, all tucked in, he didn’t want to make her move.

After that conclusion, the obvious, sound, right call would be for him to leave, call her tomorrow. But he was here and he could hear her and, he realized, his chest ached with her absence.

When he got to her window, he almost smiled. It was cracked open, a thin gap letting frigid air inside. She had been taken so many times, so many people have come for her, and here she was, leaving her window open while she lied there in her bed, ready for plucking.

Or, he noticed while opening it and swinging a leg inside, maybe not so ready. There was a gun inside her bedside table drawer, fully loaded.

Even if Matt couldn’t smell traces of gunpowder and strong coffee, he could smell Frank Castle’s influence.

Walking in and closing the window, he stood in place for a few seconds, debating if he should leave, if he should stay, if he should let her know he was there.

When she let out a series of sneezes and a moan-like little cry, he swallowed and walked to her, until he was sitting on the edge of her bed, with her facing him, lying on her side, wrapped in her blankets like a fat burrito.

Matt took his hand to her hair and almost sighed when the strands moved against his fingers and his palm. He missed that feeling so much.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, groggy, half asleep, softly, after opening her eyes slowly.

“I heard you were sick”, he said, something in his chest tightening, he missed her so much. “Wanted to see if you were ok.”

Sniffing, Karen didn’t move or protest when his hand went to her face, thumb tracing her features.

“You shouldn’t leave your window open”, he said, something like warm water running inside him, relief, maybe, that she wasn’t kicking him out.

Her eyes closed, Karen chuckled.

“Frank said the same thing.”

He knew Frank had been there. By the feel of it, he was a regular visitor. But hearing her talk about him so casually, confirming what he already knew, it almost physically hurt him.

He was jealous, Matt realized.

“Was he the one that gave you the gun?” he asked, trying not to betray his feelings, his thumb still caressing her face.

“No, that’s mine”, she said, taking a hand from inside her blanket cocoon and wiping her nose with a crumpled tissue. “He just brought me a new box of bullets.”

He had a thousand things he wanted to say to that. Most of them, he knew very well, were just out of jealousy.

He knew Frank well, by now. Knew what he had done for her, how he had saved her, knew he was not dangerous to her. But the urge to go off and tell her to stay away from Frank at all times was there, on the tip of his tongue, because he’s dangerous, he’s unpredictable, unstable, his enemies are dangerous and powerful, she could become a target, he could-

“He made me a shitload of soup”, she said, hiding her face inside her blankets right after, a fit of cough overtaking her. “Shit, I hate this”, she said, and Matt couldn’t think about the extent of her relationship with Frank right now - he had no right to think about it.

“Have you been to a doctor, Karen?”

“It’s just a cold”, she said, rubbing her nose. “I don’t need a doctor.”

Sighing, Matt reached inside his pocket for his phone. He would much rather call Claire, but he took up so much for her free time as it was, and he knew she was busy with Luke tonight, one of Rand’s hires would have to do.

Karen complained when the doctor answered the phone and Matt asked if she could do a house call. She insisted that she didn’t need to see anyone, reaching out for more tissues, coughing and sneezing, freezing.

“You have a fever, Karen”, he said, hand on her forehead, so glad she didn’t bat it away. “It’ll be quick.”

He stood there while the older doctor examined her, stethoscope to her chest and back, measuring her temperature, asking questions.

“She needs a lot of rest, regular intake of fluids and healthy food”, she told Matt. “This is a prescription for some pills, the ones she’s taking won’t do much good”, she handed him the piece of paper. “Make sure she’s warm, but  you should let some air in.”

“Thank you, doctor”, he said, walking the woman to the door.

Matt closed the door and turned around to walk back to Karen’s bedroom. He found her sitting in bed, the covers away from her, the window open again.

“This is not helping, you know?” he said, walking to it and closing it, leaving the bare minimum for some air to come and ventilate the place.

“I don’t- she said, moving to get her hair out of her face. “I don’t feel comfortable. My body hurts.”

“I know”, he said, walking to her bed, not really knowing what to do.

What he wanted to do was sit by her and wrap her in his arms, touch her head to his chest and not let go of her until she felt better. But, given her aforementioned lack of comfort, cuddling him would be the very last thing she wanted to do.

“Are you hungry?” he asked instead and she sighed, annoyed.

“No. But I have to eat, I guess.”

“You do”, he said, moving to help her up, and it was such a small thing, but he wanted to smile when she accepted his hand. “We’ll warm up some of Foggy’s chicken soup”, he tried joking, lifting her from her bed slowly.

“Frank ate that”, she said, and he could swear he heard a hint of a smile in her voice. “Said he knew Foggy meant well, but ‘store bought shit it’s only gonna make you sicker’.”

“And then he made you soup?” Matt asked, trying not to betray annoyance.

“Yes. Like a ton of it.”

It was, indeed,  in a huge pot over her stove, and it actually smelled pretty nice. It was, Matt assessed, lukewarm.

He actually opened his mouth to ask if Frank did this a lot. Came in and made himself at home at her apartment, or if he cooked for her a lot. Ask what else he did. He doubted she would dignify his questions with answers, so he just closed it again.

“If you want to eat in bed, I can take it for you”, he offered after she groaned to sit on one of the kitchen chairs.

“Yeah, ok.”

Turning around, she walked out of the kitchen, sneezing twice on her way back to bed.

He took a bowl full of - surprisingly rich - soup for her, sitting at the foot of the bed while she ate. When he came back from the kitchen a second time, with a glass of water for her, he found her asleep, her breathing heavy and her skin still too warm.

MInutes later and he was closing the door after himself, running downstairs to the first drug store he could find to get her pills, along with some chocolate things he knew she liked. When he came back, she was still sleeping.

“Karen”, he called softly, a hand on her forehead, moving some hair away from her face. “You have to take your pills.”

“Hmm”, was all she said, before sniffing and going right back to sleep.

Sighing, Matt opened the boxes and had all the four pills she needed to take in his hand when he tried again.

“Karen. Come on, just take your pills and then you can go back to sleep.”

She took a deep breath and moved her arm from inside her blankets, asking for the pills, blinking. He gave her one by one, and she took sips of water to swallow them, and then turned around to go back to sleep when she was done.

“Can you dim the lights?” she asked. “It’s too bright.”

There was only one lamp on, on the bedside table near her window. Matt walked to it and switched it off, leaving the room in complete darkness - not that it mattered to him.

Walking outside to refresh her glass of water, he rested his hands on the counter and took a deep breath.

She doesn’t seem to mind having him in her space. Yes, being sick is taking up most of her attention, but given Karen’s history, he would think she’d put up some sort of fight. Maybe things are finally starting to go back to normal, they can go back to their normal, maybe they can-

Maybe…

Maybe him being there is of no consequence to her. Maybe the way things ended between them didn’t bother her anymore because she was over it. Maybe she didn’t have time to think about it, with Frank Castle stopping by and making her soup and going with her to meet a source for one of her stories or lingering around her long enough Matt could smell traces of her perfume on him when they met, sometimes, on random rooftops.

Maybe.

Even while he told himself not to do it, he focused on the inner walls of her apartment, on the traces left in the carpet, looking for signs that another pair of shoes walked around, looking for bigger clothes in her coat closet, looking for something that didn’t belong, looking for something.

He found plenty, but not enough.

There was a box of bullets, sealed, but she had told him Frank brought it for her. There was a first aid kit stocked with enough medicine and equipment to put a few nurses to shame. There was a dog leash inside a bag, and Matt does not remember Karen owning a dog.

Still. That proved nothing. And, even if it did, why was it any of his business.

With his attention back inside her bedroom, Matt listened and moved to make her a warm cup of tea. She was about to wake up.

Just in time, she started coughing when he was halfway to her bedroom again. 

After taking a few sips, Karen placed the cup on the bedside table and lied on her side, facing him, who sat on the floor by her bed.

She looked at him for a while and he felt her eyes wandering his face.

“Why are you here, Matt?” she asked, voice so small.

There were many answers to that. “Because you’re sick”, “Because I was worried”, “Because I miss you”. None of those, however, were the whole truth. 

“Because I lost you”, was what he said, sitting there on her floor, his back against the cold wall, glad the apartment was dark, so she couldn’t really see him that well. “And it’s killing me

The “I don’t care” he said to Elektra when she expressed being sorry he lost everything rang loud in his ears, and he wondered again if Karen couldn’t read his mind.

She stayed silent for another few seconds and he could swear her eyes were drilling holes in his skin. 

“I lost you first.”

Matt felt his breathing changing, that something inside his chest tightening again.

“And it killed me, too. Because I didn’t know why it was happening.”

He didn’t need evidence of all that had gone wrong with them, he knew it all. Hearing her say it was not any easier because of it, though.

“That’s because you didn’t have me, then”, he admitted. “Not all of me.”

He wanted to move, to get up from the floor and climb in bed with her, hold her tight to him, make up for all the time they lost, all that time he could have had her, they could have had each other.

“Frank said I loved you”, she whispered and it was like a small, tiny electric shock inside him. “And maybe I thought I did. I don’t know.”

His hands closed in fists around nothing, but when she moved to get another sip of her tea, it unlocked him from his immobile state against the wall.

“There’s too much we don’t know about each other”, she continued. “Even if I did love you, it wasn’t the real you. Maybe it was the idea of you.”

When she placed the mug back down, he was sitting with his arm supported on her mattress, his chin on top of his own hand, and her face was close to his when she lied back down.

“I loved the idea of you, too”, he said, running the tip of his fingers on her hair, like he always wanted to do, always, always, since day one. “I didn’t take the time to know you for real. Only what you made me feel.”

She sighed and went on looking at his face in the dark.

“It wasn’t just you”, she said, so small, almost afraid. “I didn’t tell you a lot of things.”

He wanted to ask why not, but he felt as if his voice would shatter the spell.

“I don’t know if you would be able to love the real me”, she said, almost as if it was a secret, her voice small and tight.

His whole body ached to hold her, to wrap his arms around her and not let go anymore, for anything.

Instead, he just sat there on her floor, his fingers on her hair, trying to fix his life.

“The parts of you I know, I already love”, he said and it felt more like a confession than anything he had ever said in church.

“Is that why you’re here?” Karen asked again, taking his hand from her hair, wrapping her fingers around his palm.

Matt nodded, closing his eyes, resting his face against her mattress, silently asking for everything.

“And because I want to love all of you.”

After a moment, she moved and he raised his head.

“Come here.”

Slowly, he got up from the floor and slipped in bed with her. She kept a small distance, a gap between them, to be closed later, if they so decided.

“Remember when I told you about my brother?” she started, and Matt nodded, listening, his whole focus right there, everything beyond the limits of her bed, forgotten and ignored.

.:.

When he woke up, it was morning, the day was happening outside, loud and fast and cold. Karen had her face tucked in his chest, wrapped around her blankets, his arms tight around her, his chin resting at the top of her head.

She had told him a lot about her. About who she was, what had happened to her, what she had done, cried (even when she tried not to) and he had finally surrendered to that urge to press her to him, to hold and protect her from everything, that urge that she always rejected, she didn’t need his protection, but it was there, inside him, nonetheless.

Checking his wristwatch, there was still half an hour to go before she had to take her pills again. He should get up to get her some food, heat up the stupid soup Frank had made, make her eat.

Settling on the decision of five more minutes, he ran a hand on her hair one more time, that certainty inside of him intensifying with every passing second.

He loved all of her.

[murdocklovespage]

So, when you talk about your "long-winded and disjointed list of problems" with season 2...I'm curious to ask, what's on that list?

It’s been a few months since I’ve re-watched Season 2, so feel free to correct me if I’ve misremembered something. 

My biggest problems with season 2:

The Timeline: 

Everything has to take place in the span of a few weeks? If it worked out logically, Matt wouldn’t have self-destructed the way he did. He catches the Punisher in a few days, the trial happens a week later (riiight...) and then lasts a few days. Then the Punisher gets out in less time than the length of the trial. And all of this is happening during very time-sensitive Hand discoveries? Kevin McCallister voice: I don’t think so. 

Nelson and Murdock

How in the hell do two men with expensive law degrees afford to live in New York when they are (maybe) paying the rent for their space and nothing else? You can’t ignore that fact for an entire second season. Maybe Matt could survive off of whatever money his father left him, but that seems unlikely. And I haven’t gotten the vibe that Foggy is rich like in the comics. Plus, the Punisher certainly isn’t paying them, so the best case scenario would be that hopefully their careers aren’t ruined and more (criminal) clients to show up on their doorstep after everything is done?

I know DD is a dark show, but one of the best elements of the show is the relationships. Foggy and Karen balance Matt out - they are his ties to his humanity. But the second half of the show he is off screwing them over and they barely interact with him for the last four episodes - a good 1/4th of the season. I don’t think he even speaks with Foggy in those last episodes. Foggy basically disappears from the show - and the fact that Matt doesn’t see him while he’s standing on the roof of the same hospital is so incredibly aggravating. He’s been Daredevil for a year? A year and a half? So he was a decent friend before all that and then became an asshole? Does his alter-ego have that big a hold on him? He really needed to have more conversations with Father Lantom, that’s for damn sure.

They didn’t use Foggy enough after the trial. He’s so much better than the role of sanctimonious best friend. In the beginning of season 2 he is more accepting of Matt’s nightly activities and I think that’s because he knows that Matt isn’t going to stop. But no, we need to rehash the conversation they had in Murdock v. Nelson (which is my favorite episode of S.1, btw) because Matt just doesn’t learn. Foggy is justifiably upset with his partner, but it comes off as annoying. 

Whenever Matt is an asshole, Foggy ends up being an asshole to Karen too, which is garbage. He’s like, “I’m out,” but he is her employer. She’s losing everything after all her sacrifices for their firm. I know she’s always trying to keep things together when he just wants distance from Matt, but both of their lives are crumbling and his mentality is basically, “I can’t deal with you right now, Karen. Even though you helped me get through all of this.”

The fact that Matt thinks he can promise Karen that he’ll protect her when he dodges her calls, lies to her, and ignores her is flat out asinine. And for the majority of the show, she’s just nods her head when he says he’ll protect her. If she doesn’t know that he’s Daredevil, the only frame of reference she has is him letting her stay at his apartment (which wasn’t attacked, so I guess that counts), and him telling her she needs to be more careful. But seriously, how does he even think he’s protecting her? He was ok with her going with Grotto, who was being hunted (not his fault, but a good example of failing to protect her), then her apartment is shot up. He straight up failed at what he promised (with the exception of the DA’s office) and those are only season 2 examples. I know he’s human, and he can’t be everywhere, but quit acting like you BELIEVE you’ll protect her, Matt!

He was finally willing to go off with her into protective custody - to which I was like, “YES,” even though I feel like it was uncharacteristic of him. How long would he have stuck around if she’d let him? He could have been doing this the entire time. Thank God she told him that he wasn’t hers to protect in the end. He needed that rude awakening.  

The Trial

Why would N&M let Frank wear the orange jumpsuit during the majority of the trial when they knew he needed to be humanized? They never would have done that in a real courtroom. Also, there was no way Castle was going to be a good boy and give a good testimony when he thought he was justified and LIKED killing everyone. That was a bad call, Karen. He can’t use his sex glare on the whole courtroom.

Frank was annoyed about the PTSD argument, but they should have explained that his PTSD didn’t stem from the war. He saw his family butchered in front of him, was shot in the head, and was almost murdered after surviving all of that. You don’t think you have PTSD? You think going on a murderous rampage and enjoying it is normal? There’s clearly something wrong with you, bro. And if you don’t see that, there’s the proof.

I want Matt to be a decent lawyer with ever fiber of my being. But instead, he goes off on this tangent that should have been his opening remarks (if he hadn’t slept through it.) He was testifying for Frank, not “questioning the witness.” How did Samantha Reyes let that slide?

I cringe every time they say they could “win this.” Like, how? He still killed dozens of people. Do they mean that Castle would be put in a mental institution? Is that winning?

The Villains - I feel like they made the same mistake a lot of superhero movies (and Luke Cage) make, and that is including WAY too many villains. The show felt incredibly disjointed. We have The Hand, the Punisher, The Blacksmith, Elektra and Stick for a hot minute, and Fisk. It’s ridiculous.

This is my biggest issue with Season 2. It felt like they decided to tell an incomplete story in order to set up The Punisher, Iron Fist, and the Defenders.

The Hand 

had been around since season 1 and I STILL don’t feel like I have a decent grasp of what they are/why they’re doing what they’re doing. They should have just been thrown in during the last episode, because that’s how much information I felt like I got after 9 episodes.

Even with Iron Fist, I feel like the Hand was barely explained. Now it’s also some cult that good people get swept up into (but when they try to leave, the people who cared about them are instantly willing to drain their bodies of blood and fight them… sure...) I feel like Matt whenever Stick talks about the Chaste. Annoyed and in disbelief that it even exists.

Somehow the enormous hole situation is enough to pull Matt back in? He’s like, “I’m not helping you anymore, Elektra. Oh wait, there are giant holes in Manhattan. Ok, I’m in.”

Why are centuries old trained ninjas such terrible fighters? They don’t even seem like real bad guys. They’re expendable and they suck.  

I feel like the real reason the writers had the Hand kidnap all of the people that DD had saved was to give Karen a reason to be potentially thankful when Matt reveals his alter ego. Also, why in the hell was Turk kidnapped when DD beats him up regularly? He is not one of the victims of the criminal element of Hell’s Kitchen, he IS a criminal.

The Punisher

His introduction - which, honestly, I still loved because it gave me chills, but it doesn’t make much sense. If he has this code, why would he shoot up a hospital? If he is such a marksman, why didn’t he just wait until he caught up to him and shoot him? But no, he has to use a shotgun in a hospital to chase a dude who is being protected by an innocent woman so that he looks scary. That’s the only reason.

How in the hell did the Punisher have the resources to find Grotto when he was given an alias and the police didn’t even know?

I feel like the conversations between the Punisher and Matt were some of the best acting on the show, but the Punisher won most of the arguments. Also, Matt tries to get on his level by acting like he understands the struggle of a war vet, which really pissed me off. And if DD told me that the men who killed my children IN FRONT OF ME deserved justice… Let’s just say the Punisher seemed pretty damn patient in that moment.

Also, Matt. You literally throw billy clubs at brains. Those men are brain dead. You have no higher ground to stand on.

The relationship between Karen and Frank. She doesn’t trust him, then she does, then she doesn’t, then he saves her and she trusts him again. Then this conversation happens:

Karen: The Blacksmith already tried to get me once, I really don’t want to give him a second chance.Frank: He’s not going to get it.Frank (under his breath?): Except I’m going to use you as bait a few minutes later, and technically his people will be shooting at you, but you know, you’re safe, or whatever.

Also, if she were in protective custody, why wouldn’t the police go into the elevator? Does “we’ll be right outside” mean they’ll be “right outside” the hotel?

The Blacksmith

Felt like an afterthought. Frank Castle’s family dying at a drug bust for the Blacksmith was so ridiculously coincidental. And why in the hell would the Blacksmith help him at his trial if he’s coming after everyone involved in the deaths of his family? He was the only positive element of Frank’s trial, but he could have easily said no, and his problem would disappear. He acts like he owes a debt to Frank, and then tries to kill him.

The Punisher and the Blacksmith should have been combined into one season and everything else into another. But since season 3 is happening two years after season 2, I guess this is the crazy way they decided to do it.

Elektra and Stick

Maybe you don’t think that they were villains here, but they were certainly problems that took up multiple episodes. Stick turns on on Elektra… Why? Because she chose Matt instead of him? And then Matt just jumps on his side when she justifiably attacks him. Hey dude, your douchebag sensei:

Abandoned you as a child.

Sent Elektra to ruin your life in college. 

Has a completely different code than you, and never keeps his promises. You literally can’t trust him. 

Tried to kill her because she wasn’t a good soldier - just like you. And you don’t ask questions?

I need to end this by saying that I still like season 2, it was just super flawed. I like Elektra and the Punisher. I like that Karen steps away to become her own person. I like Foggy showing he doesn’t need Matt - even though it breaks my heart and if I had a choice I would pick Matt being a decent person instead. And I loved the Karen/Matt storyline until they just gave up on it.