summary: On their wedding night, (Y/n) disappears in Matt’s arms-blipped without warning. For five years, he mourns her, tormented by grief and hallucinations. When she returns, unchanged, he’s convinced she’s not real. (angst mostly with fluff ending)
warnings: angst, cussing, lack of proofreading rip, set in infinity war - endgame timeline (reader getting blipped, etc)
a/n: Listen, my boy Matt is the PERFECT practice for writing angst. I just like to put him in situations and watch him like he's in a fish tank and I'm outside tapping on the glass. This man absolutely cannot catch a break and while I am partially to blame (cause I'm writing it this time), just how Matt is written in general is in a way that it just makes sense to put him through shit. He is a walking amalgam of Catholic Guilt, adrenaline, and poor decision making and I love him so much. This one is a boatload of angst but I threw in some fluff in the ending because well, we deserve good things.
The apartment door creaked open with the softest thud, and then her back hit it as Matt pressed her gently against the wood, lips grazing her jaw, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. He was smiling.
That rare, devastating smile he only wore when it was just them.
“You’re supposed to carry me across the threshold, remember?” she whispered, breathless with laughter.
“Oh, I didn’t forget,” Matt murmured. “Just wanted a moment alone with my wife first.”
Wife.
The word made her stomach flip in a good way- warm and giddy and ridiculous.
He scooped her up easily, one arm beneath her knees, the other at her back, and she looped her arms around his neck like she’d never let go. “You’re enjoying this a little too much.”
“I’m legally required to now,” he said with a smirk. “It’s in the vows. Carry you everywhere. Worship the ground you walk on. Try not to lose my mind over how good you look in that dress.”
“Flawless delivery, Murdock,” she teased. “Truly. I can tell you definitely wrote your own vows.”
He chuckled against her shoulder as he carried her through the doorway into the quiet, dimly lit apartment. Candles flickered. Soft music still hummed faintly from the speaker they forgot to turn off before the ceremony.
And for a second- just one perfect second- it was all stillness. Just them. Just this.
He set her down gently, hands lingering at her waist. They kissed again, slower now. Softer. Everything feeling like it had finally settled into place. She pressed her forehead to his, heart beating a little too fast.
“I think I’m going to cry.”
“I’ll beat you to it,” he murmured, eyes closing, nose brushing hers. “You’re here. You’re mine. We made it.”
She smiled, eyes glassy. “We did.”
They stood there for a while. Just holding each other. Breathing the same air. Wedding bands warm against skin.
But then-
She shifted slightly in his arms. Her brows furrowed.
“Matt?”
He straightened a little, instantly alert. “Yeah?”
“I feel... weird.”
He tilted his head, concern filtering through his features. “Weird how?”
She pressed a hand to her stomach. “I don’t know. It’s like- I just got dizzy all of a sudden. Like the room’s moving.”
Matt gently guided her toward the couch, helping her sit down. “Okay. Just breathe. You might be dehydrated. Or just- adrenaline crash.”
She tried to smile. “Yeah. Big day. Lots of emotions. Too many speeches.”
She stood too fast. Her hand slipped from his.
“Careful,” Matt said, already reaching for her again. “Take it slow- ”
“I think I need to throw up,” she mumbled, voice shaky.
“Okay, yeah,” he nodded, already guiding her. “Bathroom’s just- ”
She staggered.
Her balance tipped.
Matt caught her by the waist before she could fall. “Hey. Hey, I got you. It’s okay- ”
She didn’t answer.
Her body felt... lighter. Unsteady. Like her weight was shifting in his arms.
He tilted his head, trying to focus on her. “(Y/n)? You with me?”
She looked up at him.
Confused.
Scared.
“M-Matt, I...”
And then her voice just- cut out.
His arms were suddenly empty.
He blinked.
No sound. No step. No breath.
Just... gone.
The faintest warmth lingered against his fingertips- and then something like dust scattered through them.
“What the- ?” he whispered, stepping back. “(Y/n)?”
His hand shook. Her scent was still in the room. Her heartbeat-
No. No, that wasn’t right.
He turned, listening harder, straining his senses.
Nothing.
There was nothing.
The silence grew louder. His throat closed up.
“(Y/n)?”
He moved down the hallway. Checked the bathroom. The bedroom. “(y/n), c’mon. Say something.”
No heartbeat. No motion. Not even the creak of a floorboard. Like she’d never been there. Matt’s chest started to cave in.
“Okay, this isn’t- this doesn’t make sense,” he muttered. “Maybe you passed out. Maybe you hit your head. Maybe- ”
His foot bumped something.
Her ring.
Her wedding ring.
Lying on the floor.
His knees hit the hardwood before he could stop them. “No.”
He crawled forward, hands blindly reaching, as if she might be hidden just out of reach.
“(Y/n)!” His voice cracked. “Where are you?!”
Still nothing.
Just the flicker of the candles.
Just the soft sound of ash settling.
“No, no- God, no!” He stood again. Stumbled. Slipped.
“(Y/n)!” He shouted so hard it tore something in his throat. “Talk to me!”
He made it to the front door. Opened it. Nothing. No one. No footsteps. No sounds of retreat. Matt’s breathing picked up. His fingers trembled as he unlocked his phone, nearly dropping it before hitting Call.
Foggy.
It rang once. Twice-
Pick up.
The sound of the city outside had changed. He could hear it.
Screaming. Tires screeching. Glass shattering six blocks over. Someone crying for help. Sirens multiplying like wildfire. It all surged into his head at once- too much, too fast.
He pressed his palm against his ear, gritting his teeth. “Too loud. I can’t- ”
Click.
“Matt?” Foggy answered, out of breath. “Hey, shouldn’t you be- ?”
“She’s gone,” Matt said immediately, voice fraying. “Foggy- she was right here, and then she just... disappeared.”
“What do you mean ‘disappeared’?”
“I mean she turned to ash in my hands,” Matt snapped, breath catching. “I was holding her. She said she felt sick and then- then she just... she was gone.”
There was a pause.
“Matt, hang on- wait- ” Foggy’s voice shifted, panic creeping in. “I think... Matt, something’s happening. It’s not just her.”
Matt stilled. “What do you mean?”
“I’m outside and people are vanishing. Right in front of me. There was a guy walking beside me- just turned to dust. A woman screaming for her kid, and the kid vanished. A guy in a cab just disappeared behind the wheel, Matt. It crashed into a light post.”
Matt pressed a hand to the center of his chest like he could anchor himself to the sound of Foggy’s voice. But even that was drowned out by the chaos around him.
“I can’t hear her,” he whispered. “Her heartbeat- her breathing- it’s just gone. Like she was never here, foggy.”
Foggy’s voice came through again, strained and tense. “It’s happening everywhere. I can’t keep up. There’s shouting, people running- I think half the crowd outside just vanished. I’m not exaggerating.”
Matt stumbled toward the couch, hand landing on the coffee table. “She was right here.”
“I’m coming to you,” Foggy said quickly. “Stay there, Matt. Don’t go outside- Jesus Christ, someone else just- ”
The line crackled. Cut out. Came back.
Matt’s hands were shaking as he reached for the remote.
The TV flicked on.
"...mass disappearances reported in New York, Chicago, London- this is now confirmed to be a global event..."
Footage played- Times Square chaos. Pedestrians turning to dust mid-step. News anchors looking off-camera in horror. Phones on the ground. Car alarms going off in every direction.
“We are receiving reports that approximately half the world’s population has- vanished.”
The camera panned to a child’s stuffed toy, untouched, lying in a pile of ash. Everything was still. Except the noise. And the empty space beside him on the floor.
“She was right here,” he said again, softly. Like it might undo it.
One foot lifted toward the bathroom- and when it landed, everything was wrong.
The apartment was darker. Colder. Rearranged.
The soft glow from the corner lamp was unfamiliar. The kitchen counter had a different crack. The rug was new. The air carried a different scent- like dust and time and a city that had moved on without her.
“Matt?” she called, voice hoarse.
Silence.
She stepped further in. The living room looked lived-in, but not by her. Not anymore. Not for a long time. The coffee table was cluttered with open case files. There was a cane by the door she didn’t recognize. Her heart pounded faster.
“Matt-?”
And then he was there. He stood in the doorway like he’d been carved from stone, unreadable and unmoved. Then, quietly- too calmly- he said, “So. You’re back.”
She stopped cold.
“Matt-”
He tilted his head slightly, almost as if studying her. “Took longer this time.”
“What…?” she breathed.
“Usually you show up around hour thirty-six,” he said, like it was a fact. “Right after the exhaustion hits but before the whiskey does anything useful.”
Her stomach twisted. “Matt, I’m not-”
“Don’t,” he cut in, sharp. “Don’t do that.”
She swallowed hard. “This isn’t what you think.”
“No?” His voice was soft, even, lethal. “Because it looks a hell of a lot like every other time I’ve lost my mind and imagined you standing in this room.”
(Y/n) blinked, her chest rising and falling too fast. “Matt, I- I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”
He exhaled sharply through his nose, no trace of humor. “You wouldn’t.”
“I was just- I felt sick and then it was cold, and everything looked wrong and-" Her words tangled, tripping over each other. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
He didn’t answer.
“Matt?”
Nothing.
She took a tentative step forward. “Please. Say something. What happened? What- what’s going on?”
He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. His voice, when it came, was low and sharp, like a scalpel slicing through skin without even trying.
“Don’t do this to me again.”
Her breath caught. “What- what do you mean, again?”
“I know your routine now,” he said, voice tightening with each word. “You show up, confused. You ask questions. You cry. And then just when I start to believe you might be real- when I almost let myself feel something again- you vanish.”
“Matt, I don’t- ”
“No,” he snapped. “Stop. Just stop.”
She froze. He stepped forward, slow and deliberate, his jaw locked, eyes unreadable.
“You know what it’s like to bury someone without a body, (Y/n)?” he asked. “To sit in this apartment with your ring in my hand, trying to convince myself that ash on the floor was all that was left of you?”
She shook her head, tears spilling freely now. “I don’t remember anything-”
“Exactly,” he said, bitter. “You never do. That’s the trick, isn’t it? You pretend like you’re all confused. Like you don’t know what’s happening. And I- I fall for it. Every time. Like an idiot.”
“Matt- please, just listen to my heartbeat-”
“I did,” he cut in. “I’ve heard it before. Right before it disappears.”
Her lips trembled. “I swear I’m not-”
“You don’t get to do this,” he said, his voice suddenly shaking, but no less cruel. “You don’t get to come back here like nothing happened. Like you didn’t leave me bleeding on the floor that night. Like I didn’t spend years trying to claw my way out of what you left behind.”
“I didn’t leave you,” she whispered.
“But you’re dead,” Matt hissed, stepping close enough for her to feel the heat off his skin. “You died. And whatever this is- this illusion, this dream- it doesn’t change that. You don’t get to hurt me again.”
He said it like a closing statement. Like a sentence passed down after a trial that never had a chance. But he didn’t stop there.
“You think this is easy for me?” he went on, voice low, cracking at the edges now. “You think I want to keep seeing you in doorways? Hearing your voice when I close my eyes? You think I haven’t begged for it to stop?”
(Y/n) stood frozen, lips parted, tears streaking silently down her face.
“I have spent five years trying to forget the exact way you said my name before you disappeared. Five years trying not to hear it in someone else’s mouth. Five years waking up thinking you might be there- just once- and then realizing that all I’ve got left is a bed that’s too big and silence that’s too loud.”
He was pacing now, hands in his hair, breathing hard, unable to stop himself.
“You were my wife. You were supposed to be the rest of my life. And I had you for minutes. You were ripped out of my arms before I even got to love you properly. Do you understand that? Do you even get what you left behind?”
“Matt-”
“I grieved you like a man who’d never believe in God again,” he growled. “I went back to that night a thousand times in my head-wondering if I missed something, if I could’ve saved you, if I’d just done one thing different-”
“Matt-”
“I begged,” he snapped. “I begged God to bring you back. I lost everything trying to survive you. And now you show up here, looking exactly the same, like time hasn’t touched you, like you’re just picking up where you left off- like you didn’t burn me to the fucking ground-”
“Matt.”
She said it once.
Quietly.
And then she reached for him.
He flinched on instinct, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, gently, deliberately, she took his hand in hers- still trembling from the weight of his words- and guided it up between them.
To her chest. To her heartbeat. Right there. Steady. Real. Alive. His breath hitched. She kept his hand pressed there, fingers wrapped around his wrist like she could anchor him to this one undeniable truth.
“I’m here,” she whispered. “I’m not in your head. I don’t know how or why or what the hell happened, but I’m here.”
Matt didn’t move at first. Just stood there, hand pressed to her chest, like he didn’t trust what he was feeling. Like it might stop if he acknowledged it out loud. Then- suddenly- he let out a shaky breath and pulled her into him, hard.
His voice was muffled against her shoulder. “What the fuck.”
Her hands gripped his shirt like she was afraid he’d drop her again. “Yeah, what the fuck. I don’t know what’s happening.”
He laughed once, breathless and half-broken. “Yeah. Me neither.”
They just stood there for a second. Breathing each other in. Trying to recalibrate. Then, against his chest, she mumbled, “You look like shit, by the way.”
It slipped out before she could stop it. Matt let out an actual laugh- short, incredulous, almost like it startled him.
“That’s not funny,” he said, wiping at his eyes, still half-laughing.
She smiled weakly. “Little bit funny.”
He shook his head, still not quite believing any of it. “God, I missed you.”
And then he kissed her.
Desperate and real and messy- too much force, too much urgency, like he didn’t trust it to last. His hands found her face, holding her like he needed proof she was solid. She kissed him back just as hard, fingers in his hair, anchoring him to now. To her.
It wasn’t clean. It wasn’t perfect. But it was real. And that was enough.
a little bonus content because well it was funny in my head
A few days later
She was curled up next to him on the couch, legs tangled, one of his old hoodies hanging off her shoulder. The TV was on, volume low, neither of them really watching.
She was still catching up- on everything. The blip. The aftermath. The years she missed. Sometimes it hit her like a freight train. Other times, like now, it just snuck up and poked her in the ribs.
She turned to look at him, brow furrowed. “Wait a second.”
Matt tilted his head toward her. “Uh-oh.”
She sat up a little. “So… technically, you’re five years older than me now?”
He blinked. “That’s what you’re choosing to focus on right now?”
“It’s a valid question,” she insisted, grinning. “I married a man my age, not some grizzled thirty-something.”
He scoffed. “Grizzled?”
“I mean, I don’t see any grey hairs, but-”
“I’m blind, not deaf. I heard that smirk.”
She tried to hold back a laugh. Failed. “So you’re like… what, thirty-eight?”
“Thirty-seven,” he corrected flatly.
“Oh no. I married an older man.”
Matt deadpanned, “And I married a time traveler. Guess we’re even.”
She bumped her shoulder into his. “You gonna start calling me ‘kid’ now?”
He turned toward her, a slow smirk tugging at his mouth. “Only if you want to see how fast a five-year age gap doesn’t matter.”
Her face flushed. “Okay, grandpa.”
Matt groaned. “Regret. Immediate regret.”
She laughed, leaning back into him again, warm and solid and finally, finally real.
Lasko definitely has some sort of public fanfiction floating around the internet. After the LOTR binge, Dear got curious and starting breezing through some sites.
They were able to figure out he wrote the fic just based on the language-style alone—and the entire time Dear’s reading, they pause to look up every now and then like
So every now and then Dear lets a line from one of Lasko’s fics slips and his face DROPS. Dear clearly knows but they pretend to’ve said it absentmindedly.
Ya'll know how jarring it was to enter the Tumblr space and see people drag his name? Having people refer to David confronting Angel for the weird ass sneaking around and say he was yelling. YELLING??? The man had a tone switch, but not once in that audio did he actually yell.
Maybe it's just me. Maybe I'm the problem. I don't see the dude as mean. "Bullying" as in mild name calling and calling a person out on their shit isn't mean.
Maybe David just isn't for you. That's fine. Leave the tired grubling guy to the rest of us. There's like 30 other characters to obsess over. I easily become complacent. David's approach to Angel is the kind of kick start that works for me.
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