filterednight
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Fandoms
- Daredevil (TV) (1)
- Supernatural (TV 2005) (1)
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Summary
“Is this the end?”
If this was the end, it was better than he’d dared hope.
“Sam,” a gentle voice said.
Sam was out of the Cage - or so said the stranger with blue eyes. He talked about soup, about healing, about someone called Celine Dion. But Sam knew exactly how far Lucifer would go to fake tenderness.
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Claire had warned him he would end up alone; Stick had said he would be better for it. But even in his darkest moments, Matt had never imagined a loneliness so total, so complete.
Or: Foggy finds Matt after he loses his hearing.
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Make It Up To Them (or a Typical Winchester Christmas) by serpentauthor
Fandoms: Supernatural (TV 2005)
15 Dec 2025
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Summary
“A dinosaur could beat a monster truck!” Sam’s voice rung out clear and indignant into the cold, morning air inside the Impala. John lifted his head slightly off the window and opened his eyes, his latest hunting injuries throbbing and his neck about to give him hell for at least the next three days. When he glanced in the rearview mirror, Sam and Dean were still there.
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It’s December 1988, and John is on the way to hunt a werewolf with a five-year-old Sam and a nine-year-old Dean in tow.
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Most of the time, Matthew was fine. He was a lawyer by day, he gave his hardest in the firm. He never missed a day at work, he wouldn't stand for letting Foggy and Karen down once again.
Most of the time, he was fine. He was a vigilante by night, he didn't stay out as much as he used too, as a promise he kept to his two friends. He saved people, he put others in jail, he tried to keep peace as much as he could in his little corner of the world.
Most days, Matthew was fine. He could ignore the white static buzzing through his head, the lack of appetite, the heaviness setting in his bones.
And then, there were days he couldn’t.Series
- Part 6 of SaturnChild's Frattweek4
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Matt catches a cold. And because he has monumentally bad judgment, he goes out Daredeviling. In November. With his senses shot. And then it’s not a cold anymore, and pneumonia comes knocking. Just perfect timing that Foggy is out of town, too. Matt is neither amused nor prepared.
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Here, of course, is where the idea blooms thick and inky in his mind, and has nothing to do but claw at the inside of his cranium.
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Dropping his bag to the couch, Foggy turned toward the half closed bedroom door. To the left the bathroom light was still nonexistent, but there were to his eyes no dead vigilantes inside. His eyes flicked instead toward the bed, which was empty, naturally, the silk sheets twisted and draping off to the far side by the window. Light streamed, as it always did at all hours of the day and night, and Foggy noticed with a start five pale toes peeking out from under the cascade of sheets. In two quick strides he was at the far side of the bed, standing over a very tangled, very pathetic Matthew Murdock.
“What the actual fuck, Matt.”