My Clothes Chairâąïž gotta be the baddest bitch of clothes chairs. Itâs wearing an absolute fashion catalogue rn and I think I hear vogue calling her name đ đ đ
I have seen genuinley no shipping between milo mumbles and Charlie slimesicle which blows my mind, they are always seen together in videos and especially out of videos too. Does no-one see my vision? Rpf nation where are you? There are 3 fics on ao3 and all of them are vore noncon dead dove. I am in a drought.
im life ruined by a minecraft fern anon. you will Never get the story. because i didnt respect how familiar you were addressing anon. you do Not know them. your ego blunts you.
Pairings: Matt Murdock/F!Reader/(Eventual)Frank Castle
Summary: After obtaining your pupillage at Murdock & McDuffie and working beside them for the past 7 months, life couldn't be better. Except, you may have a huge crush on your supervisor, Matt Murdock.
Warnings: Age gap (22/43), Matt is technically her supervisor, no use of Y/N, kind of sweet and fluffy, very minor born-again spoilers, reader is a lawyer. (This is part of a larger work which will have multiple warnings.)
Word count: 2.1k
A/N: I am aware that pupillage is a UK-based thing only; however, I have chosen to ignore that. This will be a larger work, but it can work as a solo fic. I noticed there was a gap in the market for Punisher/Reader/Daredevil fics (aka I wanted to read more but couldn't find more). I've decided to be the change I want to see in the world. This fic and the following chapter are just set up for the world; there will eventually be an overarching plot. If you want to be on the tag list, just comment saying so!
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10
Chapter One: Murdock & McDuffie
There was a soft electric hum echoing off the white marble floors; the hustle and bustle of the day had ended long ago, leaving only the quiet, slow ticking of the wall clock interrupted by the infrequent clicking of your keyboard. Youâd been at this for hours, writing two sentences, reading them and deleting one. You groan, throwing your head back against the soft headboard of your chair. You rub your forehead, staring down at your almost-finished closing statement.
âThis sounded so much better in my head,â you mumble, placing your face between your palms. Youâd written multiple court statements before, too many to count at law school and at least a hundred mock-up ones during your bar course. Sure, youâd written a handful of statements in the seven months youâd been doing your pupillage at Murdock & McDuffie, but you'd never led your own cases, especially in court. Kirsten gave you a simple case to start, a minor thievery case.
Youâd been assigned to work beside Matt, who would supervise but not interfere. He had offered to stay late with you, saying he had his own cases to work on. Youâd declined at first, worrying your bottom lip as your heart pattered against your ribcage, but heâd insisted.
Matt rolls his chair beside you. âRead it to me,â he orders, crossing his arms across his broad chest. Heâs wearing that same smile he always does, as though heâs somehow aware of how painfully handsome he is.
You readjust on your chair awkwardly, taking a heavy breath in. âThe evidence shows that Leroy Bradford has been spat out by the same system that promises to uphold justice. There are certain facts in this case that are not in dispute: Mr Bradford stole. However, his lawlessness will not change if the state of New York punishes where it can rehabilitate. We ask that Mr Bradford-â you trail off, unsure how to continue.
Matt nods, his lips stretched in a proud smile. You can smell his citrus cologne at this distance; the scentâs been worn through the day, mingled with his sweat, which makes it even more intoxicating. âI mean, you have the facts down great,â he starts, reaching up to scratch his neatly trimmed beard. âBut I think youâll have better luck trying to get him the 10 days in jail.â
You furrow your eyebrows, shaking your head. âMr Bradford did what he had to survive; the legal system is meant to be in place to protect him, Matt.â
âIâm not fighting you on that,â he justifies, chest widening as he defends himself. âThis is your first case; you canât expect to rework the entire court.â
âIt wouldnât matter if this was my last case; if our client is put back in jail, weâll just be doing this song and dance again in a year- if he doesnât die in that time, that is.â
Matt opens his mouth to argue again, slowly closing it with a smile. He readjusts on his seat, and you watch how tight his shirt is against his arms. Heâd long abandoned his blazer earlier in the night, to which youâd practically had to tear your gaze away. âYouâre a lot like how I was when I started,â he laughs.
âAn amazing attorney?â
âA hard-ass.â
You laugh, rolling your eyes as though he could somehow see it. âAh, so nothingâs changed in your sixty years of practising.â
He scoffs in mock-offence. âHow old do you think I am, young woman?â
âYouâre just so good at your job I assumed you mustâve been around when the first constitution was signed,â you watch the way his under-eyes crease; you can see his dark brown eyes jutting left to right beneath his red glasses.
âYou better be careful, I can write you up for workplace discrimination,â he jokes, tilting his head towards you. You smile, closing your laptop lid; youâre too tired to even think about finishing it tonight. Anyways, the court date wasnât set until another four days.
âYou have no jurisdiction,â you cross your leg over the other to face him fully; your pant leg grazes his, and your heart flips. âKirstenâs my supervisor and she likes me a lot more than she likes you.â
âHearsay.â
You smirk, squeezing your hand tight. You were certain heâd been flirting with you for the last handful of months, but any time you tried to pursue further, heâd politely shut you down. Yet, the next week he would go right back to crowding your space. At first you thought that maybe it was just his personality, and it was, at least half of it was. But you saw how he acted with Kirsten- that same flirty inflection, same handsome smirk, but thatâs where it ended.
You werenât stupid; you knew why he kept you at armâs length. Close enough to touch, to tease, but far enough to feel as though he was doing the morally right thing. Catholics.
You were half his age. An adult? yes. Capable of making your own decisions? Absolutely. Matt knew this, of course; you knew he was aware of it, but he was still your mentor, partly your supervisor. In five months that would no longer be the case, but heâd still be your superior. Unsurprising for a lawyer to be as hypervigilant as he is.
âOther than a hard-ass,â you start, reaching over to take a sip from the cold dregs of your fourth cup of coffee of the day. âWhat were you like at law school?â
You watch his tongue dart from his mouth, wetting his top lip in a slick streak your eyes follow. âI was less focused on school than I shouldâve been,â he says hesitantly. âSpent far too much time enjoying the âcollege experienceâ, Iâm sure you know the type.â
You can imagine a young Matt Murdock with some outdated long hair, breaking womenâs hearts left and right. You imagine being the same age, sitting beside each other in class. You think about him leaning over to whisper some stupid joke to make fun of whatever the professor said. You like to think youâd be able to resist how charming that stupid smile was- but if present-day Matt was anything to go by, you know youâd end up another heartbroken girl.
âI usually tried to stay away from the type,â you confess, feeling strangely shy under Mattâs faux-gaze. âToo focused on getting into the prestigious position Iâm in now.â That was semi-true at least; youâd gone on one or two dates at college. The romance was always short-lived, ending with a kiss at the door. Youâd never followed up more than that, engrossing yourself further and further into your studies until your dateâs pretty face became a ghosted contact. Maybe young-Matt wouldâve been your heartbroken boy.
Now, having exactly what you wanted, you realise how much you sacrificed.
âNot that Iâm entirely interested in dating nowadays,â you lie, heart stuttering as you look Matt down, gaze catching on his white scars that scatter his arms. You bite your lips to resist asking, terrified of breaking the moment between you.
âYou donât sound particularly convinced,â he says, stopping your breath in its tracks. You awkwardly scratch the back of your head, unsure how to say âIâm actually interested in a hot, blind, lawyer double my ageâ without him acting as though he isnât completely aware of this fact.
You look down at your hands, lightly picking at the sides of your nails- peeling off the chrome nail polish youâd painstakingly applied last night. âI would be lying if I said there wasnât someone in my life.â
âSomeone youâre dating or-â he asks hesitantly. Heâs stock still in front of you, as though youâd shut down the topic if he moved too quickly.
âNo, not dating,â you interject, shaking your head. You tuck a fallen piece of hair behind your ear and try to meet his gaze again. âI think he wants something too, but whenever I try to do something about it, he just..â You drift off, gesturing noncommittally, hoping Matt will still get what youâre trying to say.
âHow do you know heâs interested?â
You fight the urge to grip his shoulders and yell âBecause Iâm talking to himâ, instead opting to roll your eyes. âI guess I donât know,â you admit. âI know I find him handsome, and funny, if not a little arrogant.â
Matt smiles at that, finally moving and leaning further back, arms uncrossing from his chest to rest on his thighs. âI understand.â
âDo you?â You retort, warmth flooding your cheeks in a small smile. You watch as Matt shifts uncomfortably in his seat, as though he could feel the heat of your gaze. You feel like a child talking back and forth like this; if Mattâs so much older than you, maybe he should be the one to address you head-on.
âAnd you understand it would be bordering on unethical if the,â he looks up for a moment, struggling to find the right words. âReceiving party,â he lands on, uncertain with his choice of words. âWere to reciprocate.â
You lift your eyebrows, stifling a small laugh at his avoidance. It escapes regardless, and you bring up a hand to cover it. Matt smiles in response, realising how stupid he must sound. âYes, Iâm aware.â
âAnd youâre aware the age gap complicates things even more.â
âMatt,â you warn, growing tired of the little game you accidentally started. âYou know Iâm a grown woman.â
âIâm frustratingly aware,â he all but growls, leaning forward, his face inches away from yours. You watch all the reasons he told himself to stay away from you melt before you. Now replaced by burning hot want. Itâs as though even if he told himself again, he wouldnât listen to reason. His hand reaches up to your face, warmth pooling beneath every place his fingers caress. His callous thumb slowly glides against your bottom lip. You watch as his own pulse thumps against you, loud and quickening, the same as your own heartbeat. You see his mouth move, but you canât hear anything other than your thudding blood rush in your ears.
Finally, his soft lips meet yours. You sigh into his mouth, fingers reaching up to snake around the back of his neck. You want more. The scratch of his beard sends a tingle down your spine as you push into him further, deepening the kiss. His tongue slides against yours and you fight the urge to moan around it. Matt's hand moves from your face to wrap around your waist. You feel your muscles ache from the way you're tangled around each other. Youâre still sat on the very edge of your chair, feet planted firmly down to stop the wheels from pushing you away.
Begrudgingly, you let him pull away, still close enough that his warm, stale-coffee breath mingles with yours. You peel your eyes away from his spit-ridden lips, denying yourself the pleasure of kissing him again.
âMatt,â you mutter, confliction whirling around in the depths of your stomach. Although you imagine its no where near the amount he must feel. You watch as he pulls back, standing up in one swift motion.
âSorry that was,â he grabs his blazer from the back of his chair, placing a sizable distance between you. Unprofessional, you think. âCan I walk you home?â He asks, changing the subject.Â
You shake your head, disoriented, packing your laptop away as you explain. âI, uh, live in Hellâs Kitchen. I have to drive home.â You reach for your phone on your desk and extend it out before embarrassingly pulling it back. âI can give you my number, though, if youâd like?â you ask; you couldnât believe you kissed before you had moved from emails only.
Matt pulls his phone out from his back pocket; itâs an older phone, one with push-buttons. You think it must be easier for him to feel what heâs pressing that way. It looks like a newer model; the screen still takes up half the phone space. He unlocks it and hands it to you; the speaker quietly tells you each thing you press as you enter your phone number. You smile as you hand it back to him. You decide to keep all the phone calls in his history to someone under the contact âK.Pâ to yourself.
âIâll see you tomorrow, Matt,â you say, throwing your bag around your shoulder. You want to give him a small kiss but think better of it, settling instead to enjoy his scent that wafts as you walk past.
THE BALLPIT IS WHAT REALLY SOLD ME. Seventeen years old and no shame. But, guise let's be mature and not piss in the balls. And not make that sentence into an innuendo, oh gosh.
Us admins are too old to be excited also⊠But we still are. Donât worry! The ball pits will be monitored for such shenanigans! Please respect the ball pit, or we wonât bring it back in future years!Â
I'm just... I'm reblogging this again because I keep bursting into tears because I just keep thinking about his KIDS.
This is Reid Wiseman with his two daughters, Ellie and Katherine. They lost Carroll to cancer just a few years ago. I know lots of people are saying what a sweet and romantic gesture it is for Reid, but... for me? I think about his daughters.
Can you imagine losing your mom when you're barely a teenager*, but knowing now that when you look up at the moon on the right nights, you'll be able to see a little bright spot that proves that humanity will remember how much your family loved her? That the whole world is going to feel that with their whole hearts?
What a beautiful gift that must be! What a remarkable moment, five years removed from the worst of the pain and grief, to have this monument to her memory, to your love for her, shared with the universe and all of posterity?
Carroll Wiseman was a NICU nurse and a beloved wife and mother and friend to everyone on the Artemis II mission crew and though she's gone, many nights they'll all be able to look up and say 'hey' to her memory. What a kindness.
If I wasn't already thrilled about NASA getting press for a big bold launch like this, this'd do it.
--
*I think; NASA is good about respecting the privacy of astronaut families so everything I've shared here is based on what little is available, which is good tbh.
My wors block listing a mile long and only getting bigger on blue-sky, how is there so much political stuff getting though still. It might be because it matches whole words instead of partial content? So "vote" doesn't block "voted"? If so then its rubbish.
I need tips on finding communities on bluesky too, since at the moment it just shows me political shit, artemis II stuff, and furry porn. Only one of those im interacting with
andulkaphoto
discoholicmusic
ellievsbear
germansingergirl
stormborns
pixelskylines
