#because i was just thinking about him (matt beloved)

[incognit0slut]

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

Behind Closed Doors 2

You welcome Spencer back to the team with a special gesture of your own—and find yourself falling even harder for him after he opens up to you.

Warnings: (18+ MDNI) sub older spence my beloved, handjob, oral (m), spit kink?, semi-public (they are FREAKY), and idk if we can call this angst but we get to know how he feels about returning to work ~3.9k words

A/n: I didn’t plan for a part two, but rewriting scenes with specific looks of him is growing on me. Also, this happens before Emily tells him to teach seminars on his leave. And tell me what you think!!

He looked good in pink.

That was an understatement, the man looked good in pretty much anything. But today? Something was different. Something looked different. His whole appearance seemed to be on point than usual. You noticed his typically tousled hair was styled and swept back, which was a very rare sight, and it was hard for you to look away.

“…as you have obviously heard, Dr. Spencer Reid has been fully reinstated,” Emily announced, snapping you back to reality. “Welcome back, Spence.”

“Whoo-hoo! Yes!” Penelope cheered, only to be met by Emily’s pointed look. “That’s not the end, is it?”

Your boss shook your head and then proceeded to continue with another announcement. You stole a glance towards him again.

Maybe it was just really his shirt that made him look good? It wasn't even overly tight, but snug enough to accentuate the lines of his broad shoulders. Has his shoulders always been that wide? Now that you think about it, he did seem to be putting on a little weight. Not that it was a bad thing, and not that you didn't like how he looked before, but you couldn't help noticing how he filled out his shirt, and for some reason, it was doing something to you. 

Probably more than something because now you wondered what other places he filled out.

A sudden round of applause filled the room, and you joined in, tearing your gaze away from him only to find Matt Simmons grinning at you. You looked away and followed everyone as they shuffled around the room, making sure to sit as far away from Spencer as possible, although luck wasn't on your side when Matt settled into the seat beside you.

"You don't seem too thrilled about me joining the team," he murmured, leaning in close.

“What do you mean? I’m always open to new faces around here.”

“Not as excited as having an old member back, though,” Matt remarked, prompting you to snap your head at him, a slight frown forming on your face. He winked teasingly, and you groaned, shoving his shoulder away. 

“Ugh, do not wink at me.”

His laughter filled the air, but it quickly faded as the atmosphere in the room turned serious. Penelope began briefing everyone on the new case, and you did your best to mask your grimace every time a gruesome picture flashed on the screen. By the time Emily called out, “Wheels up in thirty,” you rose from your seat.

To talk to him or not talk to him?

You weighed the pros and cons, sneaking a quick glance at Spencer, who was deeply absorbed in studying the case files. The logical part of your brain told you it wasn't the best time to strike up a conversation, especially with only thirty minutes left until you had to leave. But there was something about him, it felt almost instinctual, like you were naturally drawn to him, and like a magnetic force, you couldn't resist.

Oh, fuck it—you decided to approach him.

Taking a deep breath to steel yourself, you made your way over to where he was sitting, trying to ignore the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

"Hi.”

"Hey," he greeted, looking up with a small smile at the corners of his lips. "What's up?"

“Can I talk to you for a moment?”

"Sure," Spencer replied, his expression curious yet amused. He set aside the files he had been studying and turned his attention fully to you.

“In private?”

There was a brief pause, and you swore you could practically cut the tension with a knife. Then, with a deliberate slowness, he rose from his seat, his gaze never wavering from yours. You tilted your head back to look at him as his presence seemed to fill the room,and you couldn't help but hold your breath as you waited for his response.

“Of course,” he finally agreed, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer before he turned, leading the way to a more secluded spot, past the bullpen, past the glass doors, and down the hallway.

Once you were both out of earshot, he leaned in. “How private are we talking about?”

You nudged his side before guiding him towards the nearest office. As you stepped inside, your heart pounded in your chest, and you quickly glanced around the room to make sure it was empty. When you confirmed it was unoccupied, you turned back to see Spencer closing the door behind him.

Then everything snapped.

You weren't sure who made the first move, whether it was you or both of you acting on instinct, but before you could process it, his lips were on yours, his arms pulling you close, tongue colliding with your own. You gasped at his eagerness and wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you as you pressed yourself against him.

With a boldness you didn’t know you possessed, you pushed him against the nearest wall, your hands tangling in his hair as his hands found their way to your ass, squeezing lightly. A soft moan escaped your lips and he responded by deepening the kiss further. It felt like time stood still as you lost yourself in the heat of his mouth against yours, until you finally pulled back, your lips brushing against his jaw.

“What…” He gasped when your mouth trailed lower. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I don’t know,” you groaned into his neck, his scent filling your senses. Why did he have to smell so good? “I think it’s your hair.”

“My… hair?”

You pulled back slightly, your fingers tracing along the collar of his shirt, your eyes roaming over the exposed skin of his chest where the top buttons were left undone. “Or maybe it’s the shirt.”

“My shirt?”

“Yes!” You half-exclaimed, half-whispered, trying to keep your voice down. “I think I’m ovulating and you’re not helping.”

Spencer's eyes widened in surprise, a flush creeping up his neck as he processed your words. "Oh," he managed to say. “I didn't expect that.”

"Sorry," you apologized, feeling your cheeks warm with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to—”

But before you could say anything else, his expression softened, and his grip on your hips tightened. "Hey, it's okay," he reassured you. “It’s common for women to experience changes in their hormones during ovulation. It's completely natural and nothing to be embarrassed about."

You looked up at him, your hands sliding down his chest. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “Yes, it’s just your body doing its thing,” he said reassuringly. "And honestly, it's kind of flattering to know that... I have that effect on you."

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as your palms drifted lower. “What else do you know about this stuff?”

“Well, around the time of ovulation, a woman's body produces more estrogen, which can increase libido—”

His breath hitched when his eyes fell on your hand resting over his pants.

“What?” you prompted, a playful glint in your eye. “Why did you stop?”

Spencer's cheeks flushed slightly as he met your gaze. "I, uh…” He cleared his throat. “I was just going to mention that… increased estrogen levels during ovulation can also lead to heightened sensitivity in erogenous zones—”

But his words trailed off into a sigh as you palmed his arousal over his pants, feeling the hardness beneath your touch. He was undeniably aroused, and the way he responded to your touch only fueled you even more. With a mischievous grin, you ran your palm up and down his length, feeling him throb in response before letting out a playful giggle.

You didn’t realize it would be this fun to be the one doing the teasing.

“Tell me more, Spence.”

He swallowed hard before managing to speak. "W-Well,” he stammered. "Increased estrogen levels can also... enhance blood flow to certain areas, leading to heightened sensitivity and... uh, increased pleasure—”

But before he could finish his sentence, you applied a little more pressure, causing him to let out a low groan of pleasure. His words faltered, his focus shifting entirely to the delicious sensation of your hand stroking him. Your eyes traveled down, watching the way his cock pressed against the fabric of his pants, noting how thick and hard he was. 

But as your gaze lingered, you caught sight of the time on your watch, and reality came crashing back in. You reluctantly pulled your hand away from him, and Spencer blinked at your sudden withdrawal, his desire-clouded mind trying to focus on you.

“What's wrong?” He whispered. “Why did you stop?”

“I… I kind of got carried away, I’m sorry," you noted. "We should probably get back before they start to wonder where we are."

He went still, and so did you. The room’s air conditioner hummed softly, filling the silence as you both simply stared at each other. When he didn’t respond, you slowly backed away and moved toward the door, but his grip on your arm stopped you. You turned towards him, eyebrows raised while he seemed to hesitate to say the next words.

After a moment, he sighed, his gaze softening as he finally found the words he was looking for.

“The other day, after we… you know,” he emphasized, and you nodded, urging him to continue. “I had to deal with this myself.”

His eyes flicked over the bulge in his pants and you stifled a laugh, amused at his sudden fluster. “Yeah, you said you were going to ignore it.”

“I didn’t,” he replied. “I couldn’t.”

“And?”

“And…” he hesitated, his gaze flickering away for a moment before meeting yours again.

There was a moment of silence until you realized what he was implying. You gasped, the hand he wasn’t holding covering your mouth in shock. “Here?” you asked in disbelief. “At work?”

His cheeks flushed, but he nodded sheepishly. “Yeah,” he admitted. “In the bathroom.”

“Spencer,” you exclaimed in a hushed tone, “That’s...”

“I know, I know,” he cut in, his tone self-deprecating. “But in my defense, it was all your fault.”

You giggled. “Me? I barely touched you!”

"Exactly, but it was enough to drive me crazy,” he said, and when he saw you laughing, he gave you a deadpanned look. “It’s not funny.”

“Oh come on, it kind of is.” You shook your head in amusement. “Why are you telling me this?”

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching yours. “Because I don’t want to leave this room and deal with it by myself again.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Is this your way of asking me to touch you?”

His eyes widened almost cartoonishly wide, the flush creeping up his cheeks contrasting against the paleness of his skin, making his reaction all the more apparent.

“Please?”

You couldn’t suppress the grin that tugged at your lips. “Spencer, we only have…” You glanced over your watch. “Fifteen minutes left.”

“I can probably finish in five.”

You bit your bottom lip. How did you end up in this predicament all over again? Although this time, you felt like you had the upper hand, and somehow, it was strangely exciting to see him so affected, to have him practically begging for your touch when you were supposed to be in a hurry.

He looked at you expectantly. How could you say no when his eyes were wide and pleading? 

“You know what?” You turned to him fully, taking a step forward. “I think you deserve it. It’s your first day back, after all.”

Before you could second guess yourself, you reached for him again. His breath hitched slightly as you undid his belt and slowly lowered the zipper of his pants. His arousal strained against the fabric and you briefly met his gaze. Without a word, you slid your hand inside his pants, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips.

He felt full in your hand and painfully hard. When his response was nothing but his ragged breathing, you reached for the waistband of his briefs with your other hand, pulling down slightly until his cock was freed from its confines. 

“Spence, you’re so…” Your voice trailed off, eyes fixated on him. The tip was thick and bulbous, a deeper shade than the shaft where pulsing veins ran up the long length. You were mesmerized by his size; it wasn’t too big nor too small, just perfect.

“You’re so pretty.”

His eyes fluttered closed for a moment before he looked back at you. “You think so?”

You nodded, feeling the heat and the weight of him in your grasp. A droplet of wetness glistened on the tip, and unable to resist, your thumb brushed along it, earning a sharp intake of breath from him as his hips instinctively bucked against your touch. With a newfound confidence, you wrapped your hand around him, feeling his hardness pulsating against your palm. 

The skin was soft as you’d expected, warm to the touch, but his length was stiff and throbbing when you squeezed. If you stayed still, you were sure you could count his heartbeat. As your hand moved up and down tentatively, trying to take in every detail of his member, you couldn’t believe you were finally feeling each vein that bulged up his shaft.

“Do you mind if I spit on it?”

He let out a low groan, his head falling back against the wall. “No.”

“Really? Coming from someone who’s germaphobic?” You smiled amusedly. "I thought you'd be more concerned about hygiene."

"I'll make an exception for this."

You couldn't help but laugh at his response. Trusting your instincts, you craned your neck down and let the liquid spill from your mouth, coating his tip in a steady flow. Your saliva glistened in the light, slowly trickling down the length of his cock. Then you began to stroke him gently, you felt him respond eagerly, his breaths growing heavier and his hips rocking gently against your hand.

His head fell back against the wall, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “God, that feels…” 

Feeling a surge of pride at his reaction, you couldn’t resist teasing him further. “Is this how you touched yourself in the bathroom?”

He swallowed hard, his breath hitching as he met your gaze. 

“Were you thinking of me?” You pressed on. “Did you imagine me touching you like this?”

His response was barely a whisper, but you caught it. “Yes…”

His breath was warm against your face, and you looked up, taking in the way he was looking at you through half-lidded eyes, lips parted as soft moans slipped out of his mouth. Who would’ve thought he made the prettiest sounds? You knew he was trying to keep his voice down, but the sight of him struggling to suppress his pleasure only made it more thrilling.

“Or did you imagine me getting on my knees, taking you in my mouth?” you teased, your voice low and sultry as you traced your tongue along your bottom lip. “Did you picture yourself deep inside of me, how tight and wet I would be?”

His forehead dipped until it was resting against yours, breaking the self-control he was desperately trying to maintain. “Oh god—I-I can’t hold it any longer.”

Your response was simply to increase your speed, your fist moving in fast short strokes up his leaking cock. He was slick with arousal, and you focused your attention on the sensitive tip, prompting even louder sounds of pleasure from him.

“Wait—" he gripped your wrist, forcing you to stop. “I’m so close.”

You frowned, watching the conflict play out in his expression. "I thought you wanted this?"

“I know, it’s just—“ His brows furrowed, a hint of desperation in his eyes as he struggled to maintain control. Then, with a defeated sigh, he admitted, “I don’t want to make a mess.”

You scanned the room, your mind racing for a solution. The office offered no privacy, and there was nothing around to help clean up the mess he would definitely make, so you needed a different approach.

Without hesitation, you got down on your knees.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?”

“You’re gonna—” he gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously. “I can’t let you do that.”

“Shh,” you hushed, lightly hitting his thigh. “Just help me hold my hair up.”

He hesitated for a moment, but the desire in his eyes was undeniable. Slowly, he reached out, gathering your hair in his hands. You felt the warmth of his fingers against your scalp, his touch gentle yet firm. You leaned in, your mouth hovering just inches from his swollen tip as you glanced up, meeting his eyes one last time before you took him into your mouth.

The taste of him was intoxicating, and you could feel every twitch and throb as you wrapped your lips around him. His grip on your hair tightened, a guttural moan escaping his lips, your tongue swirling around his tip, tasting the salty bead of arousal that had formed there. His hips bucked involuntarily, and you took him deeper, jaw stretching wide as you struggled to get every inch of him inside your mouth while wrapping your hand around what was left.

You moved slowly at first, getting used to the feel of him in your mouth. It didn’t take long until your mouth was working in tandem with your hand, creating a rhythm that had his body shaking. The room was quickly filled with the sounds of his ragged breathing and soft moans, and you couldn’t believe this was actually happening. There you were, hiding behind an empty office with the potential of getting caught. 

But you didn’t care, nor did Spencer, as he held your hair and bucked his hips into your mouth. You could feel the tension building in him, his breaths coming in short, desperate gasps. He was so, so close, and you wanted to push him over the edge. You quickened your pace, your mouth moving up and down his length, hollowing your cheeks to create a tighter seal.

His moans grew louder, and you could tell he was struggling to keep quiet. “Please,” he whined, his voice strained. “I-I’m gonna…”

A choked gasp cut off his words as he reached his climax, his release hitting the back of your throat in hot, pulsing waves. You swallowed him down, savoring the taste of him, the warmth spreading through you as you looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. His expression was one of pure ecstasy, mixed with a hint of disbelief and awe.

As he slowly came down from his high, his grip on your hair loosened, and he gently helped you to your feet. "That was..." he trailed off, still catching his breath. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to. Besides, I think you deserved it,” you said before pointing a finger at him. “But we can’t keep doing this at work.”

He looked at you, amusement and disbelief dancing in his eyes as he adjusted his clothes. You could almost read his thoughts: you were the one who initiated this, not once, but twice. The first time might have been out of panic, but this time, it was all you.

“I’m serious,” you said, crossing your arms to emphasize your point. “Now that you’re back, we should keep a certain distance between us. No more sneaking around.”

He raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile curling at the corners of his mouth. But then you watched as his expression suddenly shifted, as if he remembered something and his smile turned into a frown followed by the furrow of his eyebrows.

“What? What’s wrong?”

He glanced at you, his hands sinking into the front pockets of his slacks. “I haven’t told this to anyone but… there’s a condition to my reinstatement.”

“What do you mean?” 

He took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours. “For every hundred days that I spend on the field, I’m required to take thirty days off.” 

You blinked, processing the information. “Wait, what? So you’re not fully back?”

“Technically I am, just not how I want it to be.”

You watched as his shoulders slightly fell. “You’re not happy about this, are you?”

“What am I supposed to do on my days off? A whole month of sitting around in my apartment doing nothing?”

You took a step closer, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “You’re not going to be sitting around doing nothing. Think of it as an opportunity. You can catch up on your reading, maybe even take a trip somewhere.”

He shook his head. “That’s not the same. I want to be out there, doing my job, helping people. It’s what I’m good at.”

“I know,” you said softly. “But you can’t give your best if you’re burnt out. These breaks could help you recharge, keep you sharp.”

He sighed, looking down at the floor. “I just feel like I’m being benched, like they don’t trust me fully.”

You tugged his arm, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Hey, they trust you. This is about keeping you safe. After everything you went through… Spence, you deserve this break. They just want to make sure you’re at your best every time you’re back in the field.”

When he didn’t seem to fully absorb your words, you pressed on.

“Think about it, you have so many options. You could pick up a new hobby, spend more time with your mom... or finally visit those places you’ve always talked about. Like that museum you mentioned before, what was it called again?”

His gaze softened as he listened to your suggestions. "The Smithsonian," he replied after a moment, a small smile playing on his lips. “I've always wanted to spend a whole day there without rushing.”

"Exactly! Now you'll have the time to do that."

He nodded slowly, the tension easing from his shoulders. "I guess you're right.”

“See? It’s all about perspective.”

His lips curved into a smile as you both fell into silence. Then, he studied you, his eyes scanning your features as if trying to decipher the thoughts swirling in your mind through the subtle shifts of your expression.

“Will you come with me?” 

Your heart skipped a beat, and your breath caught in your throat at the unexpected question.

“You want me to come with you to the museum?”

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice soft, almost quiet. "Will you?"

It was a simple question, but it held a weight that you couldn't ignore. You had spent plenty of time together, grabbing lunch, chatting at the coffee shop down the road. But this felt… different. More personal. More intimate.

And suddenly it came crashing to you. You were so absorbed in what was happening between you, the stolen kisses, the physical attraction, that you didn’t realize your friendship was never going to be the same again.

On one hand, the idea of spending more time alone with him was undeniably tempting, but the rational part of you wasn’t sure if it was the wisest thing to do. He was your friend, a good one at that, and getting emotionally involved with friends could either strengthen or strain the relationship.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you searched for the right words. But before you could answer him, both of your phones vibrated with a notification. You both looked at your own devices and read the message.

“We’re leaving now,” Spencer announced, shoving back his phone in his pocket. “We should go.”

You nodded slowly, your gaze lingering on the door for a moment longer before you turned towards him. “You know what? You should head out first. I need some time to myself.”

He furrowed his brows slightly. You could tell he wanted to ask more questions, but he didn’t press on. “You sure?”

“Yes,” you replied. “Just give me a minute and I’ll follow behind.”

His eyes lingered on you for another second before he nodded, offering you a small, reassuring smile. “Sure, I’ll save a seat for you.”

You returned his smile, though it felt more like a grimace as you watched him exit the room. The click of the door closing behind him seemed to echo in the sudden silence, leaving you alone with your swirling thoughts as the rush of emotions flooded over you. It felt as if you were standing at the edge of a precipice, unsure whether to leap or retreat.

With a deep breath, you pressed a hand to your chest, trying to calm the fluttering inside. But the truth was undeniable—you were falling for him, and you were falling fast.

#behind closed doors #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencerreid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fluff #Fanfiction #gifwriting

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 12||

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

Words: 5k

banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen

Even in the middle of the night, the heat of summer in Hell's Kitchen is oppressive. It doesn't help that there is a storm rolling in and it is so humid Matt feels like he's breathing in water. Sweat is pouring off of him and he's glad he opted out of wearing his red armor - he has the feeling he would have overheated within an hour.

The only good thing about it pushing eighty degrees at two am is that only people that have to be out are out. Even though it is Saturday night/ Sunday morning, the streets are empty and Matt has only encountered people on their way back home. He hasn't even needed to scare off any muggers or stop any break ins. In fact, all he has really done all night is track people to make sure they got to their destinations safely.

There was a small surge of people around midnight coming off the trains and they had been rowdy, but hadn't caused any problems. Matt quickly worked out they were part of the protesters who have been crowding outside the courthouse for the past few days and deemed they were not a threat to his beloved city.

He's spoken to a few of them while at the courthouse and he fully supports their cause and their right to protest. Admittedly, Matt is not one to stay on top of current events, but he thinks it is suspicious that the government will not reveal what caused the massive explosion in Connecticut. It's been weeks but instead of answers, it feels like everything about the incident is being shoved under the rug and Matt knows if it was closer to home, Karen would be chomping at the bit to investigate.

Over six hundred people lost their lives and no one is being brought to justice for it. They are saying it was an attack, but no one is claiming ownership or being blamed for the destruction. It makes him angry, and though this isn't his fight, he'll do his part protecting the voices in his community who demand the truth.

Tonight, it seems like his community is safe and Matt will be able to get more than two hours of sleep before he needs to go to Mass. He needs to do a final pass around the neighborhood before he turns in for the night, so he pushes himself up from where he has been crouching like a gargoyle and stretches his limbs. His knees pop and his back screams at him and he decides that despite the heat, he will take a scorching shower to soothe his muscles. He may not have gotten into any big fights the past few nights, but that doesn't matter to his body - it's always aching and throbbing in one way or another.

He pulls his mask down over his face, hating how it instantly makes his forehead sticky and wet, and starts his loop.

He starts at the top of 10th and weaves across and down until he passes Foggy and Marci’s apartment. He pauses across the street and crouches down as he tunes his ears to their bedroom. They are both in a deep sleep and there is no threat he can detect, but still he stays for a minute just to be sure. Daredevil may have complicated his best friend's life, but Foggy has never had trouble making his own enemies. He may not be a vigilante, but his sense of justice is just as strong as Matt's and that has caused people to come at him violently. Someone breaking in is not out of the question.

Marci has her own enemies but if anyone ever tries to come after her, well, Matt will pray for their soul because not even he is that self-destructive. She once made a joke about becoming a crime lord and he still has the occasional nightmare over it.

Matt scans the surrounding buildings for any problems once more before he starts off towards Karen's place. She was still awake when he last passed her building and the odds of her still being up are pretty even. He wouldn't be surprised to find her typing away at some article - stirring up the pot as always. He loves her for that personality trait, even if it mentally puts him through the ringer with worry over her - he supposes it is nothing compared to what he does to her.

But luckily, for the collective sanity of Nelson, Murdock, and Page, more people care about Karen's well-being than care about Matt's.

He knows she has Jessica's number on speed dial - letting them meet is one of his greatest regrets in life. He is well aware of the cameras set up by Frank's computer friend and while the Marine is out of town, he's left her with another layer of protection - his dog Max.

Not that Karen can't take care of herself.

If she and Marci teamed up to take over Manhattan, Matt doesn't know if he could stop them.

Maybe he'll tell her that for her birthday - it will make a better gift than anything he'd be able to think of.

Matt lands on the roof of Karen's building, relieved to find she has gone to sleep since he last checked on her. She must have let the dog get in bed with her, because it's snoring is making it hard for him to tune into her without concentration. She's safe and seemingly happy, so he lingers only a moment before resuming the last dredges of his patrol.

He heads down to the docks next. There are people there, but they are meant to be - prepping for the fish markets and early morning cargo ships. These are good, hard working men who don't dabble in things that would make the Devil hunt them. In fact, he's got a good contact in one of the fish mongers, who will let him know if there's been anything suspicious in the wee hours of the morning. He doesn't need to check in now, as there have been no whispers as of late, and he disappears back into the shadows of the city to head towards Clinton Church.

Matt's stomach turns as he gets closer to where he grew up. His feelings about the location and the people there have been a ridiculous rollercoaster since he found out he was a father.

He deeply misses Father Lantom. Despite what everyone has told him, he firmly blames himself for the man's death and does not understand why God made that choice. It hurts that he isn't here and Matt can barely bring himself to go into the church - he's only started to re-attend Mass since learning about Minnie to seek guidance from God about this new path. He'd give anything to be able to speak to the man who mentored him in life - to hear what he would say about Matt having a daughter.

It isn't that Matt dislikes the new priest - he just doesn't like him. He's resistant to change and it should be Father Lantom giving Communion and taking his Confession.

It should be Father Lantom who Baptizes Minnie, not this man Matt has never even spoken with.

Maggie is trying to get Matt to interact with the man, but his relationship with her is going through a rocky patch and he hasn't actually spoken with her in about two weeks. She hasn't done anything wrong - he is just having an internal crisis over how learning he is a parent changed him and his abandonment issues. He's spent a lot of time in reflection and understands why she left him and his father, but he now has a renewed anger at her for not telling him the truth sooner.

Did she not love him like he loves Minnie? Was it something he did wrong?

Will she love Minnie like she loved Matt? He trusts her to care for his daughter, but will she love her granddaughter the way she deserves to be loved?

Everything is made more complicated over how guilty he is over having these feelings and so, instead of talking to his mother, he's been avoiding her. He knows he needs to eventually address it, but for the moment Maggie is none the wiser about his mini-me.

He'll tell her after he tells you about her.

It is something he needs to do still - it just hasn't come up yet. Most of your conversations center around Minnie and you are still getting to know each other. You've shared few stories about your childhood - mostly about school - and Matt isn't so sure how your anxiety will handle Maggie. His mother is a good person, but she is a lot and he knows you have your own parent issues.

Like at the docks, there are people active at the Church. A few homeless patrons are seeking shelter before the rain and there is a nun tending to their needs. The kids are safely tucked into bed, and while it sounds like a few are having nightmares, there is nothing he can do for them at the moment.

If they wake and cry out, he prays their calls are answered.

Matt practically flees the sacred grounds and his anxiety only settles once he crosses into Chelsea.

As he runs, he hones his senses to the apartment building you live in. It is easy for him to lock onto - he's already spent countless hours perched on the boundaries of the two neighborhoods listening to you and Minnie sleep. He knows it is creepy, but he cannot help himself.

Minnie’s laugh is his new favorite sound, and not far behind it is your heartbeat. Much like his daughter, he's found himself focusing on it when things get too much and it is the perfect way to end patrols - winding down while you and Mouse dream.

You mumble in your sleep and it is the most endearing thing he's ever encountered. He likes to respond to your strange statements, imagining he's right there in bed with you. There has been a recurring theme of parrots and he is thinking that the bird exhibit will be off limits during Minnie’s birthday trip to the zoo, based on what he's heard.

But it isn't you mumbling in your apartment tonight - it's Minnie.

His daughter is awake and has moved from the bedroom to the living room. The television is on - playing what he thinks is Sesame Street - and she seems to be fussing with a toy. Context clues tell him she's playing with a doll or stuffed animal - dress up is one of her favorite games and he knows it is one of her Quiet Games.

“Nexts,” she says sweetly to her toy, “we gotta do your make ups.”

Matt decides to wait until he's landed on the roof before he makes her aware of his presence. He kneels and takes a moment to center himself, taking a deep breath to do so. He focuses on calming the Devil in his chest - this is the first time he's caught Minnie awake in the middle of the night and he needs to address it as Matt and not Daredevil.

He doesn't want to scare her, after all. She'll probably be very confused as to why he's there and being scared won't help anything.

“Minnie, sweetheart, can you hear me?” He asks, keeping his voice soft as possible as he does.

To her credit, she doesn't start at all. It takes her a moment to process, but then she questions, “Daddy?”

The name makes his heart soar - everytime she says it, he breaks into the biggest smile. It is the sweetest sound and the fact she switched to calling him that all on her own means the world to him.

She wants him to be her Daddy.

“Yeah, sweetheart, it's me. What are you doing awake?” he questions, smiling as he hears her get up and start to walk around. He wonders if she is looking for him and his guess is confirmed when he hears her start lifting things up to look under them.

“I'm watching Cookie Monsters,” she replies and Matt chuckles. He thinks it is so adorable she is also so direct with her answers. She always answers exactly what is asked.

“I don't think it is time for Cookie Monster, Mouse. I think it's sleep time. Mommy is sleeping.”

You are in a deep sleep, your breathing slow and even. He can tell you've been exhausted lately and probably need the sleep. More than once he's found you awake during his patrols. If Minnie tried to wake you up, you probably weren't responsive and she had left you to sleep.

She peters her way back to in front of the television and plops back down after checking under the dining table. Matt waits for her to respond, knowing sometimes it takes her time to form what she wants to say.

“I can't sleep,” she mumbles, upset clear in her voice, “there's a monster.”

The Devil flares up inside of him and he instantly scans the area for a threat. There are few people awake in the area and he focuses in on them - none of them appear to be any sort of danger to his daughter. At the moment.

But they could have been earlier. They could have woken her up by doing something horrible. A mugging. Domestic violence. Something worse.

He curls his lip into a snarl.

He'll find whoever upset his daughter and drive them from his city. The state.

It's a miracle he manages to keep his voice calm and gentle, “A monster?”

“A monster,” she confirms sadly. Her breathing becomes muffled and Matt figures she has shoved her hand into her mouth to self-comfort.

“Can you tell Daddy about the monster?”

She sucks on her fingers and with her free hand, pulls her toy into her lap. He wants to push her to tell him, but he knows he can't. She's not a witness or a suspect - she's his daughter trying her best. He can tell she wants to answer, he just needs to be patient.

“He ran really fast,” Minnie starts to say, barely taking her hand out of her mouth to do so, “and went eek-eek-eek and smelled like poopy-butt.”

The words baffle him and Matt knits his brows - this monster was close enough for Minnie to smell him? The monster in his chest snarls and he has to fight to keep his composure. He knows Minnie is locked onto him and if he lets his rage show, she will know and she will get scared.

He needs to protect his daughter. He needs to believe God will not test him in this.

“Minnie, sweetie, can you tell Daddy where the monster is?”

Her little head turns up to face exactly where he is standing, asking in a small voice, “are you gonna fight him?”

The Devil roars ‘yes’, but the Father in him says, “Do you want me to?”

“Mommy scares him away,” she advises hesitantly. He can practically feel the nerves radiating off of her and it makes him clench his fist.

Matt doesn't understand. This has happened before?

Then it beams him in the head like a baseball and Matt feels like a complete idiot.

Minnie is a toddler. Her monsters are shadows, creaky pipes, and the four legged creatures in the city. Those are things that no longer register on Matt's radar but she hasn't learned to tune them out yet. Of course she would be scared of those things - Matt was scared of those things when he first got his senses and he was much older than Minnie at the time.

He remembers his first phone call with you and how it ended - something about Monster Repellent.

“I can go scare off the monster - would you like that?” he asks, the Devil in him settling down now that he knows no one is trying to hurt his little girl.

He doesn't know if it's Minnie sensing his shift in mood or if she didn't want him to fight the monster and scaring it away is what she wants, but she untenses her shoulders and her hand comes out of her mouth.

“You'll scare him away?” She asks after hugging her toy right to her chest.

“I'll scare him away,” he quickly promises.

“He smells like poopy-butt,” she repeats and Matt wonders if she is making a stinky face. That is something you tell him he and Minnie share - a certain curl of their lips when they find something unappealing.

“That's okay, sweetie, I'll make him go smell bad somewhere else. He won't bother you,” he says. “Can you tell me where he went and I'll go chase him away.”

Finally, she points down towards the alleyway between her building and the neighboring one and adds, “He can climb walls. Like Spidey-Man.”

Matt resists the urge to huff over the mention of the other vigilante. He has met the kid twice before and his biggest take, besides it was a kid under the mask and that had been its own thing, was that he needed to learn how to throw a proper punch. It confirmed for him all that Avengers training and showboating really meant nothing and they really were better off fighting aliens and wizards than helping out real people.

“Don't worry, Mouse, I can climb the walls, too.” He's definitely letting his Pride show through, but if he can't show off for his daughter, who can he show off for?

He makes a quick map in his head, then goes to the edge of the roof. Minnie’s head is still angled up towards him and she ‘watches’ as he parkours down to street level. If he adds a few unnecessary flips, well, that is no one's business but his own.

Once he is on the pavement, he opens his senses to the things he normally blocks out. The city becomes far more lively around him - cats, raccoons, birds, dogs, all sorts of bugs and things he doesn't like to think about. There's yowling and chirps and suddenly so much more movement, most of it under his feet.

Mouse’s monster is easy to find. It is a disgustingly large rat that has built a nest of trash and grime under a dumpster. The thing has a respiratory infection, which has it wheezing and rattling and he very much understands why Minnie was scared of it. It is not a pleasant sound and the infection is not at all helping how the creature smells. Animals smell at the best of times, but this rat clearly enjoys the sewers and ‘poopy-butt’ doesn't begin to cover how rancid it is.

Matt starts to work out what he needs to do to make sure this sick rodent stays far away from his family. If it has a nest, it will come back, so he needs to destroy that - without damaging the animal. He doesn't have the heart to actually hurt the thing.

He pulls out his billy clubs and snaps them together to make a bo staff, then moves to crouch in front of the dumpster. “Okay, sir, I'm here to evict you,” he says, more for Minnie’s benefit than anything. “You gotta go.”

He jabs at the nest of wet cardboard and almost immediately, the rat scurries out and hisses at him. It snaps its jaws at him a few times instead of running away and Matt huffs at the display, turning his staff towards the creature and swatting at it. “Get out of here.” To its credit, it tries to fight him, biting at his billy clubs and screeching at him, but after a few good thwacks to its side, it realizes it has no chance against him and dashes toward a nearby grate.

He listens to it go down into some pipes and once it's out of range, he tilts his head up towards Minnie, a smile starting to form in his lips, “The monster has been vanquished, my princess.”

His words make her giggle and he can't help but chuckle as well. He hears her push up into standing and she toddles towards the window. There's a table in front of it, so he knows she can't see out of it, but he knows she's trying to find him.

“He's not gonna come back?” She questions and in response he starts to break up the nest. He spreads the trash around, knocking things down and away. It's not a big very big rat den, relying heavily on the dumpster.

“He's not, he's gonna go find a new home,” he promises as he works, and once he's satisfied with his destruction, he collapses his billy clubs and holsters them. He pushes up into standing and steps away from the trash can.

“Far away?” Minnie asks and his heart breaks for her. The stupid animal must have terrified her.

“Very, very far away.”

He locates the fire escape and starts to scale it back up to your apartment floor. As he does, he starts closing off his senses again. Things begin to fade into the background - the things he will need to start teaching Minnie. She's got a good handle on it already, having learned to function with it instead of needing to adapt.

He's so proud. So unbelievably proud.

She's such a good and pure child. She always wants to help and asks about other people. She may be shy, but she's empathetic.

You've taught her well.

Matt understands how Minnie is a mini-him in her abilities and mannerisms due to those abilities, but her sweet nature is from you.

He knows he's gone for you.

Foggy has pointed it out. Karen has pointed it out. God has smacked him in the face with signs.

His realization moment was hearing a man purchasing an engagement ring for a woman who shared your name. He had gotten so furiously jealous he had to go take it out on the punching bag.

Foggy laughed so hard at him.

He doesn't think you noticed at all. It is nothing against you, he completely understands. You are like him - you don't think you deserve love. You had been painfully shy your first night together, as well, and he had been charmed by it.

He's angry at himself for letting you be a one night stand.

He should have been there when you needed him most.

He's not going to fuck that up again.

He pulls off his mask before making a show off popping up in front of your window and Minnie dissolves into giggles.

“Hi, Daddy!” She waves at him and he can tell she is absolutely beaming. He eagerly waves back and he knows he's matching her smile.

“Hi, Mouse.”

“Why are you outside?”

He's planned for this. He has discussed this with Foggy and Karen at length. He did the unthinkable - he asked Frank - who apparently knew who Minnie was before either Foggy or Karen did. They had attacked the question from all sides. As the firm. As friends. As parents.

They couldn't lie to Minnie. Matt can see the signs she's picking up on what different heart beats mean. She's going to know and there's nothing they can do to hide it. She can hear all of Hell’s Kitchen just as well as he can. It may not happen until she's older, but she'll figure it out.

So, he's not going to lie to her. He thinks you would approve. You don't like lying to her - you soften the truth into something she can comprehend. He's going to follow your lead.

“I'm working,” Matt answers, crouching on the rails and resting his wrists on his knees. He's suddenly very glad he had a very boring night. “What are you doing inside?”

Mouse accepts the answer and hugs her toy to her chest, swaying side to side “I'm talking to you.”

He laughs at her utter sweetness. She giggles along with him.

He gives a fond shake of his lead, then leans forward so she can see him a bit better, “What should you be doing, sweetheart?”

She scrunches up her face as she thinks, then she falls into a pout, “Sleeping.”

“Yeah, you should be sleeping. You're going to be tired tomorrow. It's not going to be fun,” he gently warns. He knows it isn't her fault, but he knows it will eventually help her learn to push those noises to the background.

“Okay, I'll go bed. I gotta clean up first. Mommy says …Mommy says don't leave it until morning. You'll make morning you sad. Be nice to morning you,” she recites, patting her hands against her stuffed animal - it's not Scooby or Pig. (He doesn't know this one. His best guess is it's a Raggedy-Anne type princess doll. His little girl loves princesses - no specific one, just the concept and aesthetic.)

He loves the values you are instilling in her. He's going to steal this mantra and tell it to Foggy and Karen.

“Okay. I'll keep watch for any monsters,” he tells her. This is one of the reasons he wants her to know the truth. He wants her to know her Daddy will protect her from all of the monsters.

“Okay. Thank you. Love you!” She chants, then turns away.

“I love you, too, Mouse. So much.”

And he will tell her every chance he gets.

She carefully walks back to where she had been sitting and turns off the television, then goes to put her toys away. Like always, she's very methodical about what she does. He could spend hours watching her play. She fascinates him. She picks up one toy at a time and tells it good night as she puts it back into her toy chest.

She doesn't have much to clean up and when she finishes, she turns to face him.

“Will you tuck me in? Please? Thank you?” Minnie asks like he can say no.

“Of course, my love. Are you all ready for bed?” He questions as he hops down onto the fire escape - one of the screws holding it together shakes and he decides he'll come back another night with a wrench to tighten everything up.

“All ready!” she confirms and he can tell she's watching him with great curiosity.

He begins to run his fingers over the edges of the window, searching for a way in. You certainly don't make it easy - you invested in apartment security and it takes him a moment to disable it. He's careful as he slides the window up and pops out the screen. He slips into the apartment, then quickly closes the window behind him, leaving the screen on the floor.

Minnie has the decency to wait until that moment to run to him with open arms. Matt scoops her up, swinging her a little before putting her on his hip and once she is settled, he leans down to press his forehead to hers.

“We have to be quiet, okay? We can't wake up, Mommy,” he tells her and she quickly nods in understanding.

He doesn't know what he'll do if you wake up and find him in your home - but luckily you are still in a deep sleep. As long as Minnie keeps calm, you should stay lost in Dreamland.

He kisses her forehead then starts towards the bedroom. She returns the affection, planting a big kiss on his cheek before she gently smacks him in the face with her doll with a quiet, “mwah!” Then, she flops against his shoulder, using him as a pillow.

He has to fight back a pleased huff - his little angel is so sweet. He'll never get sick of getting kisses from her toys - it's so loving and innocent and he is greedy for any and all affection.

Your bedroom is a good twenty degrees cooler than the rest of the apartment - there's a fan going and accompanying it is a little window unit blowing in cold air. It feels like Heaven in the blistering heat that is the rest of the city. The chill seems to suck the consciousness from Mouse - she gives a big dramatic yawn, smacking her lips against his neck. Her body slumps into him and he rubs her back encouragingly.

He crosses the room carefully, hyper aware of any toys that may have found their way to the floor post-bedtime. It absolutely breaks his heart to have to pull her away from him and she does try to stay clinging to him - not fighting him just resistant - but she ends up in her bed and under her covers. He doesn't know if he would have had the strength to force her to let go if she really did want to stay in his arms.

He helps her adjust her sleeping headband so it is around her eyes and ears, then kisses her cheek one final time, “ready for sleep?”

The response is a barely there nod and Matt can't help but feel so much love for his daughter. Being able to conk right out as soon as she's comfortable shows how much she trusts him. His little girl is always so wary and subtly alert.

He's going to cherish this moment forever.

“Love you, Mouse.” He whispers.

“Luvo, Daffy,” is what it sounds like she says as she rolls to bury her face into her pillow. A moment later she is snoring.

Matt allows a few tears to fall before wiping them away and turning his attention to you. You have nested yourself under your blankets, breath hitching every so often. He's learned over time from various people this usually means bad dreams - not nightmares but things that can leave you shaken.

He doesn't dare move closer to try to soothe you with touch - that would certainly wake you up.

Instead, he promises, “I'll chase all your monsters away, too.”

tags:

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife 

 @petrovafire39 @allllium

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

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@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt  @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium 

@

two-unbeatable-beaters @kiwwia-wiwwia @1988-fiend @xblueriddlex @loves0phelia @ninacotte @lovelyygirl8 @littlenosoul @ednaaa-04  @ astridstark13

 @lovingkryptonitehideout @moongirlgodness @soocore @bluestuesday

#soulie writes #fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #and then i met you

[teambyler]

Will's anti-Vecna song should be David Bowie's "Heroes"

We know from the new BTS pic that he has headphones and a Walkman. Like Max, he might be fending off Vecna:

Max's anti-Vecna song was highly personal to her. It helped her through her guilt and depression and feeling like she deserved to die.

For Will, "Should I Stay or Should I Go" is cute, but it doesn't have emotional weight. It might have helped a child Will in the Upside Down in s1, when it made him think of home and Jonathan, but he's all grown up now. He's changed.

If Byler becomes realized, David Bowie's "Heroes" is the perfect song for Mike and Will's relationship that would help Will resist Vecna. It's canon that Will likes David Bowie: kid Mike prefers the androgynous rock star over Kenny Rogers (s2e1).

@surferbeto on YouTube comments:

This is a heroic love song. Bowie starts out crooning but pretty soon he ramps up and belts it out hard. This song is about risking getting shot by East German border police and dragged over barbed wire for love. This is about young love against impossible odds. It's about that gloriously tragic fantasy... of giving our life in some grandly romantic way to save the life of our beloved. Maybe by taking a bullet for them and dying in their arms in the shadow of the Berlin Wall.

Having David Bowie's "Heroes" in the show would call-back to Peter Gabriel's somber 2010 cover from s1, when Mike hugged his mom thinking Will was dead. But Bowie's original is defiant, triumphant, and bittersweet. (Seriously, if you haven't yet, listen to it before reading further. It's perfect.)

It would play when Mike and Will have their first kiss. Their song of losing each other is now of finding each other.

If Byler is realized, it could play as Mike and Will dare to hold hands in the school hall, as we fade out to the end credits.

Will would put it on his Walkman. If Will and Mike are bullied for their relationship, "Heroes" perfectly expresses their defiance and willingness to love each other despite the harm that might come to them.

It's the song that would most help Will in case he gets Vecna'd. It doesn't just remind him of Mike; it culminates his journey over the five seasons. As a kid he told Jonathan he's not a baby, not just a victim. Despite seeming shy and weak, he has a huge amount of quiet courage, but his struggle in s3 and s4 was largely internal. ("I'm not gonna fall in love.") Show creator Matt Duffer says about s5: "Will's going to be a big part and focus... We're starting to see his coming of age, really... You're starting to see him come into his own." If Byler becomes real, then his fight becomes external, confronting the homophobia in Hawkins and the literal hell threatening his friends. He will rise to the occasion.

"Will really takes center stage again in [season] 5," Ross Duffer told Variety. "This emotional arc for him is what we feel is going to hopefully tie the whole series together. Will is used to being the young one, the introverted one, the one that’s being protected. So part of his journey, it’s not just sexuality – it’s Will coming into his own as a young man."

In s2, Will only allowed Mike to protect him because he didn't feel pitied by Mike; Mike saw his strength. A stronger Will will pay him back and protect him from the twin dangers they face.

It's Will's turn to be the hero. His fight for others is his fight for himself. "Heroes" perfectly expresses his journey of defying all odds to fight for HIS RIGHT TO LOVE.

-teambyler

#byler #will defends mike with a gun #stranger things #vecna #speculation #song #should i stay or should i go #david bowie #heroes #headphones #walkman

[guccifrog]

WRONG NUMBER P9

matt sturniolo x reader

the long awaited part 9 lmao

y/n pov

The throbbing pain in my lower abdomen was unbearable. it felt like someone was stabbing and twisting knives into my guts. I groaned, rolling over onto my side, my fingers digging into the soft cushion of the couch as if it were the source of my pain. My cramps had been relentless all day. I sighed, flicking the remote control aimlessly as I scrolled through the channels, hoping to find something - anything - that would distract me from the constant ache in my gut.

Finally, I could take it no longer. I reached down to grab my trusty heating pad, the one that had been my constant companion during countless nights of cramps and discomfort. But as my fingers closed around the familiar contours of the pad, I felt a strange, wet warmth seeping through the fabric. Confused, I lifted the pad to my face, only to find that it was leaking. And when I looked down, I saw the source of the problem, tiny, delicate holes, each one no bigger than a pinprick, marring the once-smooth surface of the pad.

I stared in disbelief at the damage made by none other than my beloved pet chick, Twinkie. I was furious. Not only was I in pain, but now I had to deal with a destroyed heating pad and an escaped baby chicken.

I let out a sigh of frustration as I put the damaged heating pad down on the coffee table, deciding to continue flipping through the channels. As I scrolled through the endless array of programming, my mind wandered back to the conversation I had with Matt earlier. He had insisted that I give him my address, but he didn't want to tell me why. Even though I knew it was a little risky considering he was just a stranger that I met a month ago through accidentally typing my mom's number wrong, I still gave it to him. Maybe it was because there was something about him that made me feel…I don't know. Safe?

I doubt his intentions are bad but even if they were he's still cute, I wouldn't mind getting killed or kidnapped by a hot guy, to be honest.

Just as I'm lost in thought, suddenly the doorbell rings. I groan, rolling my eyes. It's probably just another deliveryman with the wrong address again. I hesitantly get up, my cramps forgotten for a moment as I pad barefoot across the living room to answer the door. When I open it, I'm greeted by a delivery guy holding a large box and a bouquet of flowers.

"hate to break it to you but you got the wrong house lil man" I mutter, starting to close the door. But just before it clicks shut, he thrusts the box into my hands. "Wait, wait! These are for you! I'm sure I got the right house" he insists, handing me the flowers as well. I look down at the box, noticing that it's addressed to me. Confused, I take the flowers and box, shut the door, and sit down on the couch again.

Carefully, I unwrap the flowers, setting them down on the coffee table. They're tulips, my favorite. The box, however, is a mystery. I lift the lid, revealing a beautiful, handmade card with a simple message: "For panties girl, hope you like it!" My heart skips a beat as I realize it's from Matt.

As I continue to rummage through the box, my excitement grows. There are all sorts of things inside, a pair of soft cotton Hello Kitty socks, a box of chocolates, and even a huge cinnamoroll plushie.

I gasp as I reach the very bottom of the box, and when I uncover what's hidden there, my heart skips a beat. It's a pair of pink, hello kitty panties. The material feels silky smooth against my fingers, and there's even a tiny, Hello Kitty-shaped tag hanging from the waistband. I can't help but blush, this man whore has outdone himself.

As I continue to stare at the panties, I realize that they're the same size as the ones I've been wearing. I hadn't mentioned that to him, but he must have known.

My heart begins to race as I put the box aside, not wanting to think about how much this gesture means to me. I know I shouldn't get my hopes up, but it's hard not to when someone goes out of their way to do something so thoughtful.

I turn my attention back to the flowers, inhaling their sweet scent. They're perfect, just like everything else.

As I'm lost in thought, suddenly, there's a commotion behind me. I turned around just in time to see Twinkie, the adorable chick I'd been taking care of, jumping onto the couch. Before I can react, he hops over to the coffee table and snatches the card Matt had made.

"Hey!" I exclaim, reaching for him. "That's not yours!"

Twinkie, however, is too quick for me. He hops over to the kitchen, clutching the card tightly in his beak. I follow him, trying not to lose my balance as I navigate around the island. He flies up onto the counter, his feathers ruffled in triumph.

"Twinkie give that back!" I plead, reaching out to him. He cocks his head to the side, regarding me with one beady eye before taking off again, darting around the kitchen.

suddenly, the phone rings, causing me to jump in surprise. It's Matt's number on the caller ID. My heart races as I hesitantly answer the phone, not even bothering to chase Twinkie again. "Hello?" I manage to croak out.

There's a moment of silence before he speaks. "Hey, Panties Girl," he says, his voice low and smooth. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything." I can feel my cheeks flush, and my heart begins to race. "No, no, it's just…um…Twinkie…" I trail off, unable to finish the sentence.

he chuckles. "I take it he's still jumping around?" I can hear the amusement in his voice, and it makes me smile despite the chaos around me. "Yeah, he's just being his usual adorable self," I reply, trying to sound more confident than I feel.

Matt laughs, and the sound warms my insides. "Well, just wanted to make sure you got the flowers and everything." He pauses for a moment, and I can almost picture him grinning into the phone. "So, do you like them?" he asks, his voice low and husky. I feel a shiver run down my spine as I take in the scent of the tulips, their vibrant colors almost too bright to look at.

"They're…they're beautiful," I manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you, Matt. They're perfect." There's a moment of silence on the other end of the line, and I can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks again.

"You're welcome, y/n. I'm glad you like them." His voice is warm and soothing, making me want to lean against something solid. "And I'm glad you like the panties too, from the sounds of it." He said a hint of playfulness in his voice.

"They're…really nice," I manage to say, feeling my cheeks heat up again.

taglist :

@nickdevora @chrisfavoritepepsi @sunsetsturniolos @littlebookworm803 @sturniozo @sturniolooooo @athaliahxoxo @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ev3rgreenxtrees @nonamegirlxsturniolo @crybabycat1 @mooniethesimp31 @ducksturniolo @ifilwtmfc @pepsiimaxx @sleepysturnss @lustfulslxt @ilovemattsworld @hrt-attack @flowerxbunnie @leprechaunbirthdaygirl @secret-sturniolo @iluvmeeen @that-general-simp @swangelss @familynotfandom @fuckshitslover @styles-sturniolo

#matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x you #matt #matthew sturniolo x you #matthew bernard sturniolo #matthew sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #christopher owen sturniolo #chris sturniolo x y/n #lets trip tour #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo texts #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fluff #christopher sturniolo texts #let's trip #fresh love

[ellephlox]

Obstinacy

Summary: You get sick and refuse to let Matt help you because you don’t want him to get sick, too — the question is, how long can you keep him away?

Pairing: Matt x fem!reader

Warnings: Some gross pneumonia descriptions, light swearing, nothing else!

A/N: So I’ve been away for awhile, and I’m really sorry about that. I’ve been trying to write my own book and I finished the second draft, so taking the time for fan fiction has been on the back burner lately. But of course with the RETURN OF OUR BELOVED KING on She-Hulk, I had to take the time to write something because IM STILL FREAKING OUT GUYS MATT IS BACK AND HES SO AMAZING AND HOT AND ALLSKJF LSDKFJLSKDJFLSDK

You felt the chest pain on your way home from work — the kind that arrived out of nowhere, as though it dropped from the sky into your lungs, and seriously made you wonder how colds were able to work that quickly. 

Of course, maybe it wasn’t a cold. You kept your hopes up as you cooked dinner, testing your chest a few times with a few large intakes of breath, but each time was the same result: a small tickle in the back, like a little voice saying, Hey, I’m here, and you’re going to be miserable for the next couple of days! 

Which really stunk, if you were being honest. It was getting towards mid-October and you were hoping to carve pumpkins with Matt or do some other corny autumn activity that every other normal couple did in the city. Not that you two weren’t normal. But other couples didn’t really have to contend with the whole I’ll-see-you-later-honey-after-I-beat-up-some-bad-guys-tonight, and you figured it must make movie nights a lot more frequent for most people than it did for you and Matt. That was another thing on your list, too — watching a horror movie to get into the Halloween spirit. 

“I’m not into horror movies,” Matt had said when you’d pitched the idea to him. “Audio commentary kind of kills the whole scary aspect.”

“Then you’re watching the wrong movies. I don’t mean movies with gallons of blood and cheap jump scares. I mean psychological horrors, the kinds that make you stay awake at night because they’re that freaky. We’re doing it, Murdock, whether you want to or not.”

Whether you want to or not, however, didn’t include the extenuating circumstances of getting sick.

It took longer than usual to get up the stairs to your apartment. You felt so drained that you wouldn’t have minded showering and then crashing into bed, if you weren’t hungry. The wind rattled at your windows as you cooked a big pot of rice, enough to last the next few days. You’d bought fixings yesterday to make a homemade curry with it, but one look at your pantry and you scrapped those plans in exchange for half a jar of pesto with a dubious expiration date on it. Matt wasn’t supposed to be over until after seven in the evening, thanks to the unforgiving hours of lawyering, but you called him as you stirred the pesto in with the rice. 

“I was wondering when you’d call,” he said. His voice was lighthearted. 

“Hi,” you said, as casually as possible. “How was your day?”

“I officially reduced the pile of paperwork on my desk from ten inches high to eight inches high, so I’d call it a success. You at your place?”

“Yeah. Hey, I wanted to let you know that I think I’m coming down with something, so maybe you should stay at your own place tonight.” Before Matt could ask, you added, “I’m fine. Just one of the colds that’s going around. But I’d feel horrible if you got it.”

“What about the pumpkins?”

“Pumpkins can wait. I haven’t even bought them yet.”

“Oh.” He sounded disappointed, and your stomach flipped. What a way to boost my self-esteem that he actually likes me. “How about we just don’t share sodas, then?”

You frowned. “Last time this happened, I told you to stay away from me and then you just ended up kissing me. The next day, lo and behold, you started coughing. So, no. Not happening.”

“You kissed me, if I remember correctly.”

“Excuse me? What kind of a lawyer are you? That’s gaslighting, sir.”

He continued, ignoring you. “Maybe I’ll just hear some suspicious noises coming from your apartment tonight. And then I’ll have to investigate, because it’s my civic duty as the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. And when I see a beautiful girl, sitting on the couch and pathetically eating rice and pesto alone, I’ll just have to join her. Accidentally, of course.”

“What I’m interpreting from that is that you go cuddle up with any girl that you find eating alone in her apartment.”

“What I’m interpreting is that Matt says he’s doing all these dangerous things at night but really he’s just chilling out while enjoying the lavish praise of being a local superhero,” Foggy said, his voice distant in the background. 

You snorted. “Am I on speakerphone?”

“No,” Foggy answered, sounding far too cheerful for someone working far beyond sunset. “Matt just keeps his phone volume weirdly high for someone who supposedly has super-hearing.”

“I do have super-hearing, Foggy.”

“Then how are you not shattering your eardrums? Between your phone volume and crashing at girls’ apartments to eat rice and pesto, I’m really doubting this whole Daredevil façade,” Foggy said. 

“Anyway,” Matt cut in, “I’ll pop in tonight, just to bring over some food and meds. Do you want anything specific?”

“Matt, really. I don’t want you catching this. And it’s late, you should get home and actually get some sleep for once. I’m fine, it just feels like a cold.” You would have elaborated, but your chest decided to seize at that moment, and you had to trail off quickly before it became apparent in your voice. 

He sort of listened to you that night. He had swung by (through the window? Or with the spare key you’d given him? There was no way to know) and dropped off food, but it was while you were asleep, and it looked as though he’d only gone into the kitchen then left. 

You’d only found the food when you wandered in blearily at three in the morning, sweating and freezing at the same time. There was no point for the thermometer; a fever was obvious and you didn’t particularly care what the number was. The cough was worse, though. It made it hard to fall back asleep — every few seconds you’d feel as though your lungs were spasming, and the back of your throat felt as though it had been bitten by fire ants. 

Sirens rang in the distance. You hoped it wasn’t for something Matt was involved in; not because you didn’t trust him to handle it, but because it was three in the morning and you’d kick his ass if he wasn’t sleeping at this point. 

Then the headache hit you. Maybe you wouldn’t be kicking his ass anytime soon. 

The pressure was enough to make you stumble into the counter as you rummaged for a glass of water. Everything about your arms felt off, as though your muscles had been crushed into powder, and you misjudged your grasp on the glass. It fell, crashing to the floor and skating outwards like a nebula of knives. Automatically you reached for the paper towels, and in your haze you stepped forward. 

Barefooted. 

Glass crunched under your foot and you swore, not at the pain but at your own stupidity. It took another half an hour to bandage up the bottom of your foot and at that point you were too exhausted to finish cleaning up the glass. 

When you woke up next, sun was filtering through your curtains and your mouth was as dry as though you’d swallowed ten cotton swabs. Dazed, you picked up your phone, and squinted at the notifications; one missed call from Matt and a followup text. Quickly you sent him an I’m okay message and then fell back onto your pillow. 

The fever felt worse. Goosebumps ran up and down your legs, but you were simultaneously sweaty under your sheets, so you threw them off to go shower. Only then did you remember the glass you’d stepped on because your foot protested angrily as soon as you placed it onto the carpet. 

Hopping was the only option remaining, and that expended just about every ounce of energy you’d garnered while sleeping, so that you just about collapsed against the bathroom wall, wheezing, by the time you’d made it. And of course that was when your phone rang, so you hopped back to your room, and barely made it in time before it went to voicemail. 

“Hello?” you croaked. 

“That’s all I need to hear. I’m coming over.”

“I... what?”

“Yeah. You sound terrible, Y/N.” Matt’s voice was overly concerned, and you didn’t like it at all; you could practically feel the pity coming off of him. At least, it felt like pity. And that wasn’t what you wanted. 

“Matt, not only will I personally make you rue the day that you step foot in here while I’m sick, but—” You broke off, coughing, and wincing at the same time because you could imagine Matt’s expression on the other end.

“I don’t like talking to you over the phone,” he said in a low voice. “I hate not hearing your heartbeat, hearing your lungs, feeling your temperature. You’re being overruled. I’m coming.”

“Don’t you have to be at the court today?”

“Not until ten.”

Defeated, you flung the phone on the other side of the room. That conversation sucked out everything you had, and you gave up on the idea of taking a shower. The bed looked much more comfortable. It didn’t help that your breaths were getting alarmingly short, and it was difficult to draw in anything more than a quick inhale. Your eyes were closed for about five seconds before they popped back open. 

Matt was coming. Damn it, damn it, damn it. You went to the windows and locked them all, then crossed to the front door. He had a spare key, but you also had a bolt, and you slid it across, feeling somewhat proud of yourself for having made the trek to the entryway. The bar is very, very low at this point. 

You’d run a marathon right now before letting Matt get anywhere near you. That resolve was the only thing penetrating the fog around your head, and you double-checked the windows again. It wasn’t as though he’d be leaping and climbing up to them, anyway; he was coming from the office, and would therefore be in his lawyer suit. With the number of people down on the streets and the broad daylight, Matt would be hard-pressed to make it up to your fire escape without the newspaper headline being BLIND ACROBAT BREAKING AND ENTERING IN HELL’S KITCHEN the next day. 

Sure enough, ten minutes later Matt was outside your door, and his sharp rap on the door did nothing to make you move. You sat at the counter, sipping on some water, and shook your head. “Nope. Not happening.”

“Y/N, I can hear the crackling in your lungs,” he said, his patience more intact than you would have expected. He thinks he’s going to win.

“My lungs aren’t crackling. They’re just... not feeling so hot.” Now overly-conscious of your breathing, you tried to make your breaths smoother and less obviously sick. 

There was a pause on the other side of the door. “You’ve got too fast of a heartbeat. Unlock the bolt or I’ll kick the door down.”

“Yeah, my heart’s racing, because there’s a man threatening to kick my door down,” you said, and feeling inspired, you clicked the on button of the remote next to you. The television flashed to life, showing the weather report, and you turned the volume up. Take that, Matt. “See? No more lung crackling or racing heartbeats.”

The only issue was that now you could hardly hear him. You barely made out his next sentence, it was so faint on the other side of the door. “I can still hear both, you know,” he said, muffled. “You know how many televisions there are in the average block of apartments that I have to filter out every single night?”

“Shit.” You shut the television off. “Listen away, then. It’s not going to change anything because I’m not letting you in.” 

“I wasn’t kidding about kicking the door down.”

"And I’m not kidding about not letting you in. Plus, you’d have some tough questions to answer when my neighbors report you for kicking down my door, Devil Man.”

“Why won’t you accept help when you need it? You really need a doctor.”

“Hypocrite,” you said under your breath, relishing the fact that he could hear you.

“I can hear you.” Just as you’d expected. “And what I do is irrelevant to the fact that you’re currently sitting in your apartment with what’s probably pneumonia.”

“Oh, it’s not pneumonia,” you said dismissively, though you felt awful enough that he was probably right. At least, your lungs seemed to concur with that diagnosis, and as if to verbally agree with him you coughed, wheezing and choking for air.  

“If I didn’t have to be at the court in half an hour, I’d go home and get into the suit just to have an excuse to come through your window right now.” Matt was pissed, that was for sure. There was a dangerous undertone to his voice, softened only by that ever-present concern in what he was saying. 

“I know, Matt.” You rolled your eyes. “It’s a lost cause, alright? Tomorrow I’ll be feeling a lot better and then maybe — maybe — I’ll let you come in. And that’s if we keep all the windows open for fresh air and—”

“Why do I smell your blood?”

You glanced down at your foot. Traitor. It had stopped bleeding ages ago, but you should’ve changed the bandage again one more time before Matt showed up. “I’m... doing acupuncture. On myself.”

“Y/N.”

“Fine. I made a blood oath and pricked my thumb to assure myself that I will never, ever let you catch a sickness from me.”

“In ten seconds this door is coming down unless you tell me. And if you could hear my heartbeat, you’d know I’m not lying.”

“Fine! I just stepped on some glass, okay? But my foot is fine, it’s seen worse days. I mean, you should’ve seen that time that I got a pedicure and the lady told me my heels were the most cracked she’d seen in a long time.” You were rambling, and that wasn’t a good idea, because it made you lose your breath and then you were gasping for air. 

After another five minutes of arguing that ended only when you swore to call the doctor if you got any worse, he left, grumbling that Foggy would kill both of you if he was late for court, and that was the only reason he was giving up — “temporarily”. 

Only when it was too late did you realize that was a mistake, and that you should have let him help.  

It was past two in the afternoon when you woke up from a nap, and every muscle in your body felt as though it were frozen. You were trembling slightly from the cold, but couldn’t muster the energy to even sit up and grab the blanket at the foot of your bed. It was difficult to swallow, and you clutched at your throat, certain that someone must be standing over you and clasping their hands around your neck, but there was no one there. 

“Matt,” you whispered, expecting him to be there, or to hear you, but there was no one. Taking slow breaths, you tried to calm down on your own. One, two, three. One, two, three. All you could manage were short, raspy breaths that hardly got enough air, and your head pounded. Blindly you reached out for your glass of water, and nearly dropped it again, your hands were shaking so much. The feeling of your lips against the rim was like pressing a dried sponge to the edge of a bowl and the water tasted sour in your mouth. 

And then you tried swallowing. It was as though someone had blocked up your throat, because you couldn’t swallow, and you gasped, heart racing as panic flooded through you; for a moment you couldn’t breathe and then you finally coughed up the water, chest heaving from the sharpness of each cough. You grabbed a tissue, hacking into it for at least another thirty seconds, and finally a glob of mucus came up and your airway cleared up just enough that you could breathe a bit more. 

You almost tossed the tissue to the floor without looking at it, but a flash of red caught your eye. 

Blood. In the mucus. 

That was the tipping point for you. Didn’t people die shortly after coughing up blood in the movies? That was how it went. A character coughs, looks into their hand, and then resignedly tucks it away without the other characters seeing. It was like the knoll of death, ringing in your ears. 

You hardly knew what you were doing as you dialed Matt’s number, not even thinking about what you were tapping into your phone but allowing muscle memory to guide you. 

“Hello?” He picked up almost immediately. 

“Matt—” You started to speak his name, but halted; it was too painful. Dropping your voice to a whisper, you started over. “Matt, I think I need you here.”

“What? What is it?” 

“I’m—” You glanced down at the tissue. Literally dying here? That was a surefire way to make Matt have a heart attack. “I’m not doing so well. I might take you up on your offer to help.”

He didn’t hesitate. “I’ll be over in five minutes. Did you call the doctor already?”

“No.” The thought of calling the doctor was exhausting on its own. 

Matt seemed to notice that. “I’ll call,” he assured you. “Can you breathe alright?”

“Not really.” Tears were spiking in your eyes and you brushed them away. “I just coughed and... there was some blood in it.” You wheezed for breath, the drawing in of air rattling everything inside of you and getting caught at the top of your throat.

“I’m taking you to a hospital.”

“But—”

“No, sweetheart. You need a real doctor. I’ll be over in a minute.”

Somehow you must have fallen asleep again, because Matt was lifting you from the bed and you wrapped your arms around him. “Can’t breathe,” you whispered, gasping for breath. 

“I know. I can hear your lungs,” Matt said, voice strained. “I’ve got a cab waiting on the street. Can you walk or do you need me to carry you?”

“I... I can walk.” You slung an arm around him and made your way slowly out of the room, limping with every step on your bandaged foot. Matt, to his credit, allowed you to do what you could. His tie was loosened and his suit jacket was gone, but he still wore a button-down, tucked into his pants. 

“Bet you won your case, then,” you whispered, hardly even aware of what was coming out of your mouth. “No one can... say no to this.”

“This?”

“Hm. This.” You meant to nod up and down at Matt, but it came across as more of a head shake. “You.”

And then your assertion that you could walk proved difficult to fulfill, so you redirected your efforts to not face-planting in your living room, despite the strong, steady hands Matt kept on you the entire time. Once you reached your stairs he took over for the most part; your feet were hardly touching the ground with the amount of support he was giving. 

That was where your memory cut out. You must have passed out, because the next time you opened your eyes, it was in the hospital bed, and Matt was reading next to you, his long gaze fixed on the wall in front of him as his fingers danced over the text. 

“Hi,” you whispered lamely. Everything about you was groggy and it was hard enough just to focus on him. 

Him. Only he could look handsome in a hospital. At some point he’d exchanged the suit for a tee shirt and sweats, and his hair stuck out at every angle possible. You wondered vaguely if he’d come from Fogwell’s. 

He set the book down, relief evident on his face. “Hey, sweetie. How are you doing?”

You ignored his question. “How do you always manage to look good?”

He nudged you. “I should be the one asking you that.”

“That’s... the biggest lie I’ve ever heard. Even if you weren’t blind, it’d be a lie.” You closed your eyes, then opened them again. The ceiling was too white. “What happened?”

"Aspiration pneumonia.”

“Hm?”

“You have aspiration pneumonia,” he said. “Which just happens to be a type of pneumonia that’s not contagious.”

You meditated on this. “So?”

“So you could’ve let me into your apartment, that whole time,” he said, looking distinctly indignant, and it was enough to make you laugh. The laugh was short-lived, because it quickly transformed into a wracking cough that made your entire chest throb, but Matt was on his feet in an instant, holding your hand.

Only when the coughing stopped did you remember the bolt on your door. “Matt?”

“Yeah?”

“How’d you get in?”

“Broke down the door, like I promised.”

“Are... are you serious? What about the neighbors?”

He laughed. “You know, breaking down a door isn’t incriminating evidence that I’m Daredevil. I told them you were having an emergency, and when they saw you, they believed me.”

“They saw me?” You didn’t remember an audience when Matt was helping you out of the apartment.

“Well, you were taking your sweet time on the stairs, and coughing loudly enough for anyone in a mile radius to hear you, so yeah, they wanted to see what was happening.”

You buried your face in your hands. “That’s just great. And now, what, is my apartment wide open for anyone to go in?”

“No, I called in a favor with Foggy, and he’s hanging out there until someone can come in and fix it.”

“Even better. Now I’m indebted to Foggy.”

Matt smiled coyly. “Oh, and I should mention—”

“Oh, no. What?”

“—that there’s something else you’ll love about all of this.”

“Stop smiling like that. Why are you smiling like that?”

“Aspiration pneumonia is commonly associated with the institutionalized elderly. In other words, it’s a nursing home problem.”

“A nursing home problem?”

“A nursing home problem,” he confirmed. “I was thinking that maybe for your next birthday I could get you fitted for dentures.”

“Hilarious. Really, so funny. You really should have been a comedian. I swear to you that the next time you get sick, I’m going to make fun of you and you’ll never hear the end of it. Got it?”

He grinned and squeezed your hand. “Murdocks don’t get sick.”

“That is the second biggest lie I’ve ever heard. I seem to recall that time you projectile-vomited off of the Ferris wheel.”

“Because I was motion-sick, not sick-sick.”

Your eyelids were already getting heavy just from the five-minute conversation. You beckoned him closer and leaned onto his shoulder, pressing yourself into his warmth. He smelled like fresh deodorant and coffee. “Pumpkin carving as soon as I can leave?”

“Definitely,” he said, placing your fingers onto the pulse that drummed under his wrist. “And this time, I’m not lying.”

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #Daredevil #daredevil x reader #marvel #MCU #hurt/comfort #reader #reader insert

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

forever ago you mentioned in an ask post that you have a story in your head about college-aged Matt saving Frank’s kids and in return the Castle family forcibly enfolds him into their tribe. There is literal kidnapping involved, and every word in your little summary was fucking hilarious. I want you to know that that scenario has lived in my head rent free ever since—I am astounded by your brain and that concept makes me want to eat dirt (in the best way)(that is a compliment of the highest degree)

anyways! Please don’t think this is me asking “when will you write that” bc i get it, some plot bunnies are just bunnies, and time/real world is a bitch, BUT—if you ever have any little ramblings about it, I’d love to hear them :) the Castle family is Insane and I love them dearly and I am forever entranced by your characterizations of Matt and Frank

Have a good one!!

Christmas with the Castles my beloved. I love this one so much that I typed out an outline of the fic entirely. It is long. Please, take my ramblings if you want them:

It's Christmas at Columbia, hohoho, peace and goodwill to all mankind. The dorms are closed over winter break to replace the pipes and Matt's out on his ass for the holidays, so get fucked, blind little orphan with no surviving family, and God bless us everyone.

Normally the Nelson clan would have taken him in but Foggy's bitch of a Great Aunt Bertha insists on holding the entire family hostage for the holidays with the will as collateral, and she sucks in many respects but even more in the sense that she doesn't want any blind orphans schlepping around her holiday table. But the Nelson clan will risk it all for Matt, who they think is neat. They'll put the whole fucking will on the line, buddy.

Matt assures them that he's got it all under control and has a place to stay. Yes, with a person. Yes, a real one. An old friend of his dad's. No, he's not going to be homeless. Stop asking questions.

This is a lie.

His plan is to simply be homeless. Peace and goodwill to all mankind.

Except Foggy knows when Matt's on his bullshit and insists on speaking to the guy he's staying with, which means he needs to get Fogwell to lie for him. Except Fogwell knows when Matt's on his bullshit and won't let him off the fucking hook until he knows Matt won't be homeless for the holidays.

Matt unequivocally refuses to come home with him. Stop asking. He'll find someone else to do the phone call.

They compromise with Matt staying in the fucking boiler room of the gym. Peace and goodwill to all mankind.

Except Matt sort of makes Fogwell think that he only needs to crash for a few days, and Foggy's family is going to take him in for the rest. This is also a lie. He is fucking off to be homeless for the rest of the holiday season.

Peace and goodwill to all mankind.

He's swallowing his misgivings and putting up with staying in the boiler room of the gym for a few days so Fogwell won't freak out. Which he now regrets. Because it puts him right in the earshot of an active hostage situation. Are those kids? Those are fucking kids.

Anyway he tries to call the police anonymously like ten times but this just tips off the hostage takers, who apparently have a mole in the police, surprising no one. Now they're going to kill the fucking kids.

Matt can't listen to this.

Peace and fucking goodwill to all mankind.

Okay. Fuck. He's doing this now.

Fuck.

THE CASTLE'S HOLIDAY SEASON, THUS FAR:

The kids got kidnapped.

like

fuck.

that happened.

The thing is that some random NSA guy got into contact with Frank and in this AU he actually blew the whistle on the the CIA's bullshit. His family was in protective custody, until his best friend and pseudo brother stabbed him in the fucking back and sold them out. Now they have his kids.

He then kills a lot of people.

Like a lot.

But he can't find his kids. They have his kids.

They're going to kill his kids.

MATT'S NIGHT, THUS FAR:

He's an asshole in sweatpants with a t-shirt wrapped around the top part of his face and no fucking plan, and there are so many assholes with guns in there. Like. So many.

But fuck it. He's doing this now.

fuck.

He fights a lot of guys. He gets super shot. Some guy tries to shoot him with arrows. Like, what the fuck even is this, Robin Hood? Honestly, fuck this night.

Anyway, he saves the kids. Wheee.

It's sort of nice? They bond, when the crying stops. The kids like him a lot. He calls their parents. Sets up a place for them to get picked up. The boy gives him the sweatshirt he's wearing under his jacket, which is kind of him, because it's fuck-off cold and Matt's about ten minutes from going into shock. Anyway, he drops them off at the spot and fucks off into the night before their oddly bloodstained dad can stop him like the world's shittiest off-brand batman.

He then goes to exercise the right of any God-fearing American citizen, which is to bleed out in the basement of his childhood church.

Fogwell's never gonna be okay again if he finds Matt's blood-soaked body in the gym. Matt figures he can just break into that basement no one uses, steal a med kit, make a solid confession about breaking into and stealing from a church if he lives long enough, and hopefully no one will even notice he was there.

This does not pan out.

A really angry nun finds him and narcs him out to Father Lanthom and they bitch him out for "dying" and "not seeking life-saving medical attention" and drag his ass to to the hospital.

NOW THE CASTLE FAMILY, REUNITED AT LAST:

The kids' will be in therapy forever but the danger is gone, because frank killed them all very dead.

He then received a presidential pardon for All The Murder.

Peace and goodwill to all mankind.

Anyway he's testified about the CIA corruption, the government is occupying itself with the coverup to end all coverups, and his only remaining concerns is (1) taking care of his family and (2) making sure the bleeding dipshit who saved his kids lives doesn't die in the streets. He's gotta find that dumb asshole.

Then he gets a phone call from a very concerned nurse at Metro General about the bleeding dipshit that got brought in with his kid's sweatshirt. They're calling because he keeps trying to goddamn leave while very fucking shot and he had a jacket with Frankie's information written on it in magic marker. Do they know him? Can they please come pick him up? They think he's going to die in the streets if someone does not pick him up.

And Yeah. Yeah, Frank Can Do That.

Matt.

Yeah.

The magic marker, he didn't.

Didn't

Didn't see that part.

Fuck.

Anyway, Matt's On His Way Out To Be Homeless For The Holiday Season, Peace And Goodwill To All Mankind, As Soon As The Goddamn Nurses Stop Hiding The Leave Against Medical Advice Forms. He lied and said he got jumped by a lot of guys, no, he didn't see who did it, because, you know. Blind. Just a regular ol' blind guy here. Poor fucking blind orphan alone and shot for the holiday season. Just give him the goddamn form.

And then that fucking guy shows up in his hospital room. The suspiciously bloody father of the kids he just got shot over. He's here, he's insisting that Matt's one of his family's closest friends and they're paying all of Matt's medical bills, and he's not commenting on the blind bit, but Matt can literally smell his curiosity. Matt's insisting that some random guy gave him the jacket, no, he didn't see his face, because, you know. Blind. He's not the guy Frank thinks he is. Nope. Please fuck off now.

They do not fuck off. Maria Castle blows through the hospital room like a hurricane, hugs him very genuinely, cries a little, and tells him that the Castle family pays their debts, and they've never had a greater one. Then the kids show up, and they fucking recognize him. Fuck.

Matt: imindanger.exe

Matt keeps feigning ignorance. Then, he waits until they leave the room and he fucking books it.

Anyway the Castle family minivan catches up to him when he's legging it a block away. They keep pace with him, and ask to just take him where he's going, and they swear they're not going to hurt him. They just want to help him out. He saved their kids.

And he can hear that they're telling the truth.

And it's so goddamn cold.

And he can hear his own internal bleeding.

And he's so, so tired.

So he tells them that no one would ever believe them. And he gets in the car. and he gives them Fogwell's address. And he tells himself he'll crash there for a day or two and fuck off to be homeless in the streets, peace and good-fucking-will to all mankind.

WHAT THE CASTLE FAMILY DID NOT SCHEDULE FOR THE DAY:

A kidnapping.

WHAT THE CASTLE FAMILY DOES:

It's. It's a kidnapping. They do a kidnapping.

Look. Look. they pay their debts. They pay their fucking debts. It's what they do. And they get to Fogwell's boiler room and rapidly fucking realize that the guy who they owe their everything to is a terminally stupid 20-something and living in the rundown boiler room of an empty gym. And they simply cannot have that.

Frank? Frank, show Matthew back to the car, will he? Maria's going to pack up his things for him.

Matt: what.exe

WHAT MATT DID NOT SCHEDULE FOR THE DAY:

it's.

It's the kidnapping.

it's that.

This fic is fundamentally founded in my premise that the entire Castle family is simply fucking insane. They're just all like that. Frank is not an outlier.

For the Castles, they're being perfectly reasonable. It's obvious that no one's taking care of this lovely young man who saved their kids, so no one will mind if they do it instead. He definitely needs it. So they sit their kids down and explain that sometimes Stockholm Syndrome is for someone's own good, which sounds perfectly reasonable to them. They then proceed to treat this like when you somewhat impulsively get a sick puppy from a Home Depot parking lot, and, well, he's a bit poorly behaved, and he keeps trying to run away, but the kids had wanted it so badly and eventually he's going to settle into his new home and then maybe you can stick felt reindeer antlers on him for the Christmas card, so you keep shoving his meds in peanut butter and forcing them down his throat and keeping the door blocked so the puppy can't slip out into the freezing new york night.

Matt treats this for what it is, which is a fucking kidnapping.

He is now fucking handcuffed to these crazy assholes' guest bed in their suburban home. It's by definition a kidnapping. they're acting like he's the unreasonable one for pointing this out. Except every time he wriggles out of his handcuffs, Frank just lugs his ass back to bed and chains him back up while they scold him. As if he's the unreasonable one for trying to escape his own kidnapping. They make him take his meds and eat three meals a day and the kids watch fucking Christmas movies with him while narrating the screen, as if this wasn't a kidnapping. This is insane. They're all insane.

Which is what he eventually tells them, out loud and to their faces.

And then Maria cries.

Stop.

Stop that.

That thing she's doing with her face. Stop that thing.

And Maria's like. Maybe they were over enthusiastic. But, being a mother, she just wants to take care of the nice young man who saved her little angels. And if that makes her a criminal, then she guesses she's a criminal. Because she cares.

Matt: shoving me into a van and handcuffing me to a bed against my will makes you by definition a criminal

maria: *cries harder*

Matt: stop

And Matt's like. Fine. Fine. He'll give into their crazy fucking kidnapping. Saves him the trouble of being homeless. Just. It's only until Christmas, and then he's gone.

maria, tearfully: and new years too?

Matt: don't push your luck

So fuck it. He's doing this now. But he's not going to like it. And he gets to come and go when he wants.

Frank: no.

matt: seriously fuck you

Except Matt's got shit they didn't pack at Fogwells. Shit they didn't realize belonged to him. His dad's shit. And he's absolutely desperate to get his dad's shit before some well-meaning janitor tosses it. So he very reluctantly agrees to let Frank go in his stead. Just. Just don't talk to people. And don't tell anyone he kidnapped matt. matt does not want to deal with that fucking court case.

Fogwell, immediately catching Frank gathering Matt's stuff for him, when he finds out that Matt sent him: are you a Nelson?

Frank, not a Nelson: Guilty.

And Fogs is just. Thrilled. So fucking thrilled that Matt has the Nelsons. Matt needs people like that, you know? People that'll welcome him home.

He's a good kid. And he hasn't had a home in a good long time. And Fogs--he's so fucking sorry that he couldn't give Matt that. And he. He.

Just tell him Merry Christmas from him? He understands why Matt didn't want to spend it with him.

Just tell him ol' Fogs was thinking of him. Tell him he really, really cares and hopes his holidays are good.

Fuck. Tell him he loves him. Just. Just tell him that. Fogs should have done it a long time ago.

What follows from there is a lot of wholesome, family-friendly Christmas activities, like:

making gingerbread houses

ice-skating

having a total mental breakdown when you get the message passed along from your pseudo-grandfather that he wishes he could have given him a home.

drinking cocoa

getting shit-faced drunk out on the town with the somewhat insane mother of those kids you saved, only to both be lugged home by a very exasperated Frank Castle.

watching Christmas movies

Visiting the grave of your dead father whose loss you've never recovered from

drinking eggnog

Confessing about your superpowers to the crazy fuckers who may or may not have given you stockholm syndrome, as well as your lasting trauma around the fact that you were child-soldierified and your soul-crushing terror that it will happen again

Making paper snowflakes

(Matt may not have meant to do all those things.)

I really like having backstories in communication with each other across my fics taking place in the same fandom? And Fogs is a great example of that. He tends to show up in all of my Daredevil fics, and he usually does something that brings Matt in from the cold in his backstory.

But in this world, that Fogs didn't do it.

In this one, he had the chance, and he failed.

Matt came to him. He ran away from the foster care system when he was a teen, and he went to Fogs as a desperate, last ditch effort. He begged Fogs to still love him the way he did when he was a kid. He begged Fogs to take him in the way he once took in Jack Murdock. He'd help Fogs around the gym. He'd do anything Fogs asked. He just wants to go home.

All he's wanted for years was to just go home.

And Fogs hugged him. He held him. He let him sleep on the couch.

And he called the police.

He wanted to do it the right away around, this time. He didn't want Matt to be hiding from the system for the rest of his youth the way his daddy once did. He wanted him to still get to go to school. He wanted him to be a kid. He wanted to adopt him proper, and didn't think of the fact that no one was gonna let him do it.

And he didn't account for how Matt would never trust him again.

He didn't account for Matt ending up on the streets, and he didn't account for matt refusing to come for him for help again, and he didn't account for Matt refusing to have anything to do with him until he hit law school and barely tolerated hanging around the gym at night again, and he didn't account for Matt not being able to stand the idea of spending the holidays with him.

There's a lot Fogs won't ever forgive himself for.

Anyway, Matt's stockholm syndrome was a great success. They fucking did it. They now have a crazy motherfucker with superpowers who's occupying this space as a the kid's new pseudo uncle. Unmitigated success. God, what an addition to the family. He's just as crazy as them.

Except Matt gets a call. From a very upset Foggy Nelson. Who says that they decided to burn the defunct bridge that was their relationship with their torrid bitch of a great aunt after she said something homophobic to Foggy's sister, and they went to go surprise Matt for the holidays, only to find out that he was already supposed to be with them. Matthew.

The thing is, foggy knows who Matt is as a person. He knows who Matt is as a person. There is such a very real chance that his blind best friend has been living under an overpass in subzero weather for the past few weeks and not telling him. He's having a heart attack and needs to come pick him up immediately before Matt starts selling his body or something.

And like, good news is that Matt was kidnapped by a lovely suburban family who have been keeping him warm and fed and dry, and they're going to be baking gingerbread today. The bad news is that Matt will literally have a heart attack if he has to explain to foggy how he got here so he just. Panics.

And hangs up the phone.

And matts panicking about how he hung up the phone, because foggy will absolutely call the police and report him as a missing person, holy shit will he call the police on him, Matt was literally kidnapped but he likes his kidnappers now and doesn't want them to be arrested, they're making gingerbread you see and that would be inconvenient to the gingerbread making. So Maria and Frank and the kids are watching this weird feral law student they forcibly adopted go through every single stage of grief in a two minute span, wonder how he made it through life so far on his own, and Maria wrangles the phone from him and calls Foggy back and politely tells him that this is Maria Castle, matts basically a part of their family and has been staying with them through the holidays, they've heard so much about foggy, won't he come visit? How about tomorrow at two? They're making gingerbread today.

Matt: MARIA

Matt is panicking. Foggy knows he doesn't have a family. Foggy is his family. Foggy has unlocked his tragic backstory. Foggy is going to wonder how he acquired a family in like a two and a half week span.

Foggy is panicking. He knows Matt doesn't have a family. He has unlocked matts tragic backstory. Matt was in their fucking Christmas cards because he has no family's Christmas cards to be in.

Maria is not panicking. They're taking a step back and making gingerbread now. Take deep breaths, Matthew.

FOGGY NELSON'S THEORIES ABOUT WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON WITH HIS BEST FRIEND (ABRIDGED):

Matt has started a polycule with a suburban couple and is raising their children with them now.

Matt was switched at birth and that's his newly discovered real family and he just never told Foggy.

Matt has been kidnapped by a family in the suburbs and they've enslaved him to make gingerbread with their children.

Which is true, weirdly enough.

Matt is having a spiraling panic attack because while he's like, not on deaths door anymore, he's still healing and clearly beat to shit and foggys going to think the castles did it and freak out and he doesn't have a lie for this prepped. And the castles are like "okay okay but, quick point, you've even prattling on about this kid for like, a minimum of four hours per day, you are more likely than not in love with him, have you considered the truth"

And Matt doesn't know what to do with that, is the thing.

Foggy comes by. He is four hours early. He arrived immediately after he got the address. Maria is lovely and kind and welcoming. Frank pumps his arm firmly and is built like a brickshit house and sort of intimidating.

Matt is absolutely beat to shit.

Matt is absolutely beat to shit.

Foggy: AHAHAHA HEY BUDDY IMMA GIVE YOU A HUG BECAUSE I MISSED YOU AND LOVE YOU SO MUCH IN THIS THE SEASON OF GOODWILL AMONG MEN. did they do this to you cough twice for yes

Matt: oh for the love of god.

And the problem is. For a family that commits felonies. They're weirdly open about that fact.

Foggy: how did Matt end up staying with you

Lisa: oh we gave him Stockholm syndrome after kidnapping him

matt: ahahaha kids say the darndest things

Frankie: no really dad kept having to drag him off the windowsill when he tried to climb out and we had to be extra welcoming to him so he'd stop trying to escape

Matt: AHAHAHA KIDS SAY THE DARNDEST THINGS

Foggy told his cop friend Brett to be on standby before he came here and now he's rapidly wondering if he needs to actualize that.

There's a good deal bit more after that, but this is getting long. There's emotional honesty. There's homosexuality. There's confessions about superpowers that Matt may or may not have. There's discussing trauma.

There's the fucking shadow government showing up to recruit Matt.

The thing is that Frank Castle is one of the best military operatives, like. Ever. And SHIELD was interested in recruiting that. And they thought, hey, saving his kids may do that. And they sent Hawkeye to infiltrate the mercenaries that had taken them.

Except they were fuck-off guns there and while he could take them all out if it was just him, he'd have to be 90% crazier of motherfucker than he actually is to try that shit with two kids in the line of fire.

And then an absolutely crazy motherfucker showed up and did exactly that. Caught his arrow mid-backflip. Kicked his ass too. It was sort of sick as hell. He hasn't met anyone so good at hand to hand since black widow.

They couldn't not recruit that guy.

And like. They found him. They found him really easily. The castle family kidnapped him. It was kind of obvious.

So Clint and Coulson roll up with the recruitment pitch and Clints like "hey, haha, I'm Clint, you stabbed me, wow you're like, completely insane, I mean that literally and in a figurative impressiveness sense, want to be best friends" and matts a fucking centimeter from launching himself out the window and starting a new life in Mexico.

And coulson's good at what he does. He can tell that matts not at all buying what he's selling, is more than a little freaked out at the idea of being identified as enhanced, and is almost definitely a former child soldier if their background was accurate about who took him from his orphanage for a few months. He also knows that Matt's abilities are too unique and too useful to just walk away from them. Nothing can be hidden from him. And if a fucking nuke is missing and they need someone to sniff it out, they need to be able to set Matt loose on a city for it. So he makes the pitch of "what if I keep you out of all databases, tell no one your name, and have you as a strictly as needed member of the roster," to which Matt replies with something along the line of "you can go and get fucked with you fascist shadow agency bullshit, you fucking totalitarian nightmare freaks, you try and drag me off to your freak show org to be a fucking dog on a leash for your illegal agency and I'll bite your goddamn face off, the world would have to end for me to come within a hundred godforsaken feet of you," which is… a coarse but technically affirmative answer that Coulson takes to mean as "Yes, if the world is ending, I will come to your agency." He honestly tells him that he'll keep matts secret and leaves. And Matt is still considering the Mexico plan but decides that he has a family to keep him here now in foggy and the castles and decides to risk staying. And that's that.

Which leads into my semi-crack fic of Matt being in the original Avengers, which I won't subject you to here. but some highlights:

Matt misses the first day of world-saving because he took off the second the SHIELD guy came by to pick him up. He managed to hide for 27 consecutive hours before they dragged his ass to the helicarrier.

He wasn't briefed at all because they ask him if he read the files they gave him and he just tosses them on the table and asks "does this look like fucking Braille to you." He repeatedly threatens to sue them for a lack of ada compliance.

He keeps getting stuck in rooms because this nightmare space ship only uses screens for everything, including door handles.

The hulk: *is the hulk*

Matt, has a stick: WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THAT

Tony: in a few minutes I'll know every secret SHIELD has ever had

Matt, has listened to at least eight top secret HYDRA meetings since being locked into this fucking hell ship: MHMM

They save the day, he's in a mask, the press asks them all whats next for the avengers and he's like "well I have a day job, I'm going home" and just. Walks away.

Three weeks later he starts fighting crime of his own volition and whenever anyone mentions hey is it maybe that avenger fellow he replies to the official inquiries with "oh no you see I have a day job" which should not work but does

Of course, Matt learning about HYDRA leads into my other semi-crack fic involving Matt simply immediately telling Captain America about the fucking Nazi's, and Cap rediscovering his life's passion, which is punching some fucking Nazi's. Except, he really needs Matt to spy on HYDRA for this to work, and Matt's identity is still almost entirely secret even within SHIELD and he doesn't want to endanger that. So they embark on introducing everyone to Matt Murdock, his totally normal, blind attorney boyfriend who is not at all a superpowered ultimate spy who happens to be secretly a very reluctant Avenger. It is now a fake dating AU.

#daredevil #christmas with the castles

[autisticlancemcclain]

Jackie supports the lion swap? How dare you!

Okay SO. This is not the first time I’ve gotten an ask or a comment like this, and I’m fully aware it’s a joke (or at least I think), but I also know that it is kind of a controversial topic on here! And I’ve already written an essay in the topic, but I have some more thoughts I’d like to dive into.

I used to be team Blue Paladin Lance, and hardcore on that team, too. If you look at some of my old fics, you’ll see that. However since I am a contrary person by nature, I started to notice that Red Paladin Lance was way less liked, and so I started to like it more. I really grew fond of the dynamic Keith and Lance got to have as co-leaders, both because it was homoerotic as hell and because the symbolism was fun to explore, but klance is not the main reason I started to care so deeply for the lion change — it was actually Shiro and Allura.

I’m going to start with Shiro, because he’s one of the most fascinating characters in VLD, if not underdeveloped. Part of that fascination for me is that he probably has the most arcs and opportunities for character growth and development in the show, and yet somehow he’s the flattest. He’s portrayed as very one-dimensional in a lot of fic — he tends to be less of a character and more of a role. He’s the Space Dad, or the older brother, or the cool teacher, or the kind and wise friend, or even the stoic Black Paladin. He is loved, I think, but the role he plays is loved, not quite the person he is. And that makes sense, because that is exactly how he’s portrayed in canon.

To Keith, Shiro is “like a brother to [him]”, but what do we see of that dynamic? The show has a clear sense of how a brother acts, that’s a good chunk of Pidge’s character. We barely even know Matt, but Pidge carries herself in such a way that it’s clear when her brother shines through her. And yet even though Shiro also goes missing, twice even, Shiro does not shine through his brother. Keith’s impulses are his own, developed from general abandonment issues rather than Shiro’s specific absence. Shiro’s absence becomes less of Shiro’s absence and more of an absence of a beloved leader figure, kind of a martyr, a “Shiro would have wanted you to carry on”. It is really hard for us as a fandom to use Shiro’s disappearance as anything but a plot device, because that’s all it felt like! We have occasional moments with Shiro, enough to care about him in some way, but as a figure, not as a person. Someone pointed it out on one of my fics and I agree wholeheartedly — Shiro is not shown with any flaws, and that makes it really hard to love him, because you don’t really get the pleasure of defending him, of seeing his motivations, his reasons. Not until the very end, at least.

This is, in all honesty, likely just poor writing. Shiro’s character was honestly just sidelined to a role, because he is really not that present in the show. But I am going to work with the benefit of the doubt, and see if I can use the lion change to explain why we all kind of love Shiro anyway, despite the fact that he’s flat as hell.

Shiro isn’t the Black Paladin. He never was. He flew the Black Lion, yes, and he flew her well — but he was never her Chosen. He couldn’t have been. From the very beginning, the Black Lion was in mourning; she was in no space to choose a new paladin. She accepted Shiro, and she loved him, but he did not fall into her as much as he fell into the role she provided for him. He piloted the Black Lion, but he was not her Paladin. This is made obvious in two ways: in that he never got her bayard, and that from the very beginning, he set up a replacement for himself.

Doesn’t that strike anyone else as odd? I haven’t seen the show in five years, and I don’t plan on rewatching, but I do remember that every moment with Shiro almost had this underlying tension. The closest thing I have to canon off the top of my head is the Handbook (which I had to stop reading because they did everyone SO dirty there, even though some of it was honestly pretty funny), which was released in S2, and even that incredibly early canon talked about Keith replacing Shiro!

From the very beginning, Shiro was planning an out to his role. He knew it was not meant for him. He did the role well, but it was not his to do.

Aside from those two reasons, Shiro also…can’t be the Black Paladin. He can’t be that and himself, I mean. This part is a little more complicated, so I’m going to borrow some of my own tags from some awesome fanart I saw:

I really do think Shiro is defined by his humanity (as is heavily implied by his illness — this is a character who is completely and totally bound to his mortality. Of all the other characters, he is the one most familiar with death, so he is the one who is most intimate with the raw fear of being human. But more on that later), but it’s my last comment that I want to focus on — “he is DEFINED by his his humanity…even as his greatest asset is the part of him that is not human”.

Every second that Shiro is leader of Voltron, he is the Champion. That can literally be his only goal — he is the head of the fight against Zarkon and the Empire. Either Shiro comes out the Champion, or Zarkon does. Either Shiro has to grit his teeth and fight off the flashbacks and the fear and the pain and use the one thing that forces him to reconcile with the fact that he had his entire personhood stripped away (his arm, his Galra arm, one of their biggest advantages as a team; his connection to Zarkon through Black, something that can only help the war effort at a direct cost to him; everything he does in this war is shoving him right back into that Arena again and again and again), or Zarkon wins. Every second Shiro pilots Black, every time he plays her paladin, he has to be who the Empire made him to be. He has to be the Champion. Once again he is not Takashi Shirogane, the person, the astronaut, the man, he is the Role. He is the Space Dad he is the Pilot of the Black Lion he is the Champion. For every second he is in that lion he is stripping away himself.

Obviously, that is something that was never sustainable. On this argument alone, Shiro was going to waste away eventually. There was always going to be a point where Shiro was not going to be able to be the Champion anymore. There was always, from the very way the dynamic was set up, going to have to be a lion switch. Now, interestingly enough, there could have been a really easy fix to this: Black Paladin Allura. She’s already a born and raised leader, already shown her immense competence, already someone the rest of the paladins follow. With her at the helm, nothing else would have to change, right?

Well, maybe. We’ll never know. One part of that is absolutely true — Allura should have been a paladin from the very beginning. Her quintessence is canonically closest to the entirety of Voltron (something that bears its own essay,; the relationship between all six of the paladins and Voltron is wrought with heavy symbolism), she is the most highly trained, she is smart, and she actually wants to be out on the field. She should have been in that armour from day one.

But Allura cannot be the Black Paladin. Allura cannot handle other’s sacrifice.

Of course this is a complicated subject. Should a leader sit back and let her crew sacrifice themselves instead of her? Must she hold herself in higher regard, convince herself she’s more important? Of course not! Teams, especially Voltron, are built with assets. While not everyone might be ‘equal’ in the traditional sense, they are all integral, and expecting sacrifices is not the stance I am trying to take here. But the point of a team, especially a team so small and vital as Voltron, is that everyone is willing to be the sacrifice, as they have to be, and Allura simply can’t handle that. She shows us this from the beginning, when she disguises herself as Galra and is taken in place of anyone on the team she barely knows, and again in Oriande with the White Lion, and finally in the piece of shit canon ending. Allura has to be the sacrifice. Every time.

And how could she not be? The last time she spared herself of sacrifice, she lost her entire people. The last time she let others sacrifice themselves for her, she was left alone, to shoulder a war bigger and greater than she could ever handle. Allura is painfully familiar with the agony of being the survivor, and she cannot do that again. She cannot and will not put herself through that again. As the Black Paladin, she would have to let her team make sacrifices — she would have to let them have their own agency, their own decisions; she would have to let them choose to get hurt and choose to do risky things and analyse and react and act. As leader she would have to trust her team to put themselves in harm’s way, and not only that, but she would have to authorize them to do so.

Like Shiro cannot last as the Champion, Allura cannot last as the Survivor. Shiro cannot even last in Voltron, and it is foolish to keep Allura out of it. A lion change is absolutely necessary for the show to move forward, for the war to move forward. The initial team was doomed to fail.

How would it change, then? What would fit? I know I’ve said my piece. I know who I think would fit where. But since I’ve been comparing character arcs to their roles as paladins, I’d like to keep doing that — what about Keith makes me so sure that he’s the true Black Paladin?

I’ll show you with process of elimination. I know Black Paladin Lance is a favourite, and I can see why. Lance has many leadership qualities, is a good tactician, and cares deeply. However, aside from his desire for power making him less suitable for the role, Lance functions best as support, despite how much he hates it. He is the one who knows how to pick up the pieces of a broken situation. He is an excellent guide, which makes him an unbelievably valuable second. He is adaptable, so he can fill in for many different roles. He can step in for leader when necessary, but putting him in Black would encourage a more active role for him; would force him to anticipate and plan for specific outcomes rather than his strength as one who analyses any outcome as it arises and works within it then. Lance could be the Black Paladin, yes, but taking him from the body and placing him in the head would be a fool’s choice. It would be crippling to Voltron, to put the jack of all trades as a master of one. Lance’s arc is all about learning to love and trust himself as he is, as the seventh wheel. Not to put him in charge of the vehicle.

Well, what about Hunk? Hunk is incredibly intelligent and analytical. He probably could lead Voltron, and did in several occasions. But Hunk’s arc is interesting because it was handled so early in the show. Unlike the rest of the team, Hunk’s arcs were solved largely in the first season. His biggest flaws were his distrust of people and, literally, his inability to fly. He could not take his feet off the ground. He was so untrusting that he could not manage to take a step forward. However his bonding with Yellow and trust with the team and their subsequent and returned trust resolved these issues, more or less, which is probably why Hunk was treated more and more like a side character the longer VLD went on. Hunk didn’t need the role of Black Paladin because he had settled into the Yellow Paladin in a way that was sustainable.

Pidge is in a similar boat. Her arc, primarily, has been about finding her family. Voltron was almost second priority for her, or at least not her only first priority. And understandably so! As the youngest she was afforded with that lenience. Her growth was about growing into her own pain, about becoming her own person alongside what she had become in the absence of her brother. As the Black Paladin, she would no longer have the space to prioritize her search for her family alongside Voltron, so her position as Black Paladin would be unstable. She is best suited in Green, where she can focus on several things at once.

That really only leaves Keith. In many ways it comes full circle — the Black Lion healing from her grief by choosing the man who ran from his Galran heritage and his power as a leader, rather than the man who chose nationalism and power over anything else. Keith is Zarkon’s direct opposite, and as such is the other side of the same coin, the one who is truly Black’s Chosen. We know this because Keith is the one who wields the Black Bayard, and Keith is, from the very beginning, the one the rest of the team chooses to follow — I ask you whether it was for Shiro that the three other humans ran off to chase in the desert, or Keith? Who was it that Lance could not leave alone? Who was it that piqued Hunk’s curiousity? Who was it that challenged Pidge to choose Voltron, rather than the search for her family?

That covers Black Paladin Keith. But what about Red Paladin Lance? I’ve established already why he cannot be the Black Paladin, but why did he have to move from Blue? For that, I bring you another few slices from early, S2 and previous canon:

“I thought what we had was special!” “Seventh wheel, if you count the Alteans.” More than once, Lance laments over being forgotten. He struggles with feeling like anything but the extra, the unnecessary. Whether or not Blue Chose him is irrelevant — he does not feel Chosen by her. The Pilot of the Blue Lion position for Lance is as unsustainable as the Pilot of the Black Lion position for Shiro — Lance does not trust it. He doesn’t trust himself in the role, and doesn’t trust Blue in having chosen it for him. Obviously, this is not the role for him.

But Red? Keith’s Red Paladin, at least? Yes, he struggles with feeling like Keith’s second, but that is literally his arc. Lance’s development is about becoming his own person despite his own misgivings about being second-best. His role as the Red Paladin is the fulfilling of his arc, and is thus the best Lion for him, the Chosen. And Red did Choose him, mind you. There was an adjustment period, of course there was, but Red did more than let Lance pilot her. She opened up new possibilities for Lance — think the broadsword — that he could not see. Red saw his potential and revelled in it. She Chose him.

Lastly — and this turned out to be less relevant to the essay than I expected, but I do want to go over it a tad — is Shiro’s tie to humanity. I mentioned two important points: Shiro’s connection to mortality makes him the most intimate with his humanity out of all the characters, and he is undoubtedly the flattest character of them all. That is, if you don’t consider his clone to be part of his character.

But I’m begging you to reconsider. Reconsider, perhaps, who the clone is — Haggar had pure access to Shiro for a year, you remember. His thoughts, his dreams, his mannerisms, his priorities, his body. Even him at his most human, his most deranged, his most scared. She had Shiro then. She had Shiro when he had nothing to look forward to. She had Shiro when he hurt his crew to make sure they would live, at direct cost to himself.

She stripped him of his humanity — his connection to his own mortality. She took his illness from him. And who, then, did she return to the team? Who was clone? Shiro, mostly. The clone was happy to play with the team. The clone was clever. The clone believed, fully, that he was Shiro, only he was angrier and meaner, a little, and less capable of shoving down his own pain. Shiro, stripped of his tie to humanity and mortality, stripped of his compulsive need to be strained and stressed and the one everyone else can rely on, the Role rather than the Person, is emotional. He has flaws and outbursts. He can’t manage his own pain. He is is cruelest to the one person on the team — Lance — who canonically reminds him closest of himself.

Shiro, in the purest form that Haggar can make him, is flawed and self-hating. That is where our love for him comes. Not the man who pushes himself down at the same time as he sacrifices his personality to be someone for others, but the man who is struggling and can’t keep it locked down. That’s where it comes from.

Anyways. Like with my other essay, I’ll admit that this analysis is probably reading into this. The writing of VLD was flawed, at best, but regardless, I think the lion change is a rich amalgamation of the characters and who they really are.

#i think about this all the time. #anyways. #vld #voltron #shiro #takashi shirogane #clone shiro #shiro angst #allura #princess allura #allura angst #keith #keith kogane #black paladin keith #lance #lance mcclain #red paladin lance #langst #hunk #hunk garret #pidge #pidge holt #team as family #longpost #essay #my writing #lion dynamics #why can’t i apply this much analysis to like. school #klance

[ludinusdaleth]

i'm not interested in finishing watching c2 (first 10 episodes bored me to death) and i only know c3, so what's the deal with essek? did he have a bad redemption arc? did he have a good one? do people just not like him for some reason? because i keep seeing his fans say the only reason c3 fans are saying his redemption arc sucked is to defend imogen and her mom and that seems too shallow to be the real reason.

first of all thank you for trusting in me to give a nuanced answer. ill do my best. essek is one of my favorite characters, but also so historically loved by fandom it has led to altercations and the drowning out of pretty much any other character in fandom spaces. ill try to explain. im sorry for how long this will be.

he was already deeply beloved as an npc for a long while before campaign 2 episode 97 dropped the fact that he was working with ludinus. he had taken luxon beacons (the object ludinus used to power the malleus key, what made opal & ted, what's in ashtons head) from his people in the dynasty - these objects were considered completely sacred to them, and the realization the empire had them, and the dynasty retaliating to get them, led to the war of ash and light which permeates much of c2's plot. so, functionally, essek's action led to war. essek was also at times in charge of or allowed to run interrogations on dynasty prisoners including nott/veth's husband yeza. to keep suspicion off of him, essek shifted blame onto a man in the dynasty who he had a petty grudge against, changed his memory, and set the dynasty onto him - this man was later given to the empire in a peace negotiation, so ludinus then had all control over knowledge on essek's involvement (bar the m9).

his remorse began with the m9, and how their lives had been effected by war and what the empire had done, and there is some implication that essek realized he was perhaps groomed by ludinus (and to a lesser degree made uncomfortable by his cohort trent) - though i should note essek was a (young) adult in government when he gave his people's artifacts away. essek hated the fact that his people were religious in regards to the luxon and did not wish to research it, and thought the cerberus assembly would be able to learn more about it.

essek's arc has been long praised as a very good one, and i think it mostly is. while i cant say we really see his kindness & newly brimming empathy fully extended, he does learn to see others as more than tools. he is still smug over his peoples religion vs his knowledge of the luxon, but learns to respect his culture enough that ludinus probably would not be able to sway him from it by insulting it now. he fights at the m9's side during the last arc, defends caleb from trent & the vollstreckers, helps fix caduceus's home. he is loyal to them forever and not just a traitor any longer. i definitely see some holes in it as he doesnt show much care to anyone but the m9, it is relatively quick how he descends into self hate about his actions that hes generally comforted for, and i worry at times he sinks too much into the soft hot boy flanderization due to everyone even the cast pushing it onto him (yes, softness & being too harsh exist in his characterization and are disliked at once, i know they are opposite traits). but i think it's good when a character is still an ass after redemption and matt clearly wants to avoid him being a soft boi in c3 whilst also maintaining that he has learned humanity & love.

you can see how that would be compelling, along with his general personality and good looks. this made him so compelling that his fans got, uh.... interesting. and that is probably the base problem that sets this discourse. (be aware my experience of his fans is primarily on twitter and in chats.)

folk would get mad and call the show unwatchable without his presence as if every other character was disgusting & boring to them (as if calebs character arc is not. literally. a parralel to esseks). they only cared about shadowgast (but only cared about essek within it, not caleb) and would be furious these two deeply aloof traumatized men didnt fuck on screen after 6 episodes knowing each other, called caleb abusive for not messaging him after a few episodes, called liam (who is iirc bi) homo/biphobic and abusive to matt for not kissing essek at one point or another. when caleb & essek did bond at the end of c2 and it was said they got together for a time that was not enough for fans, who claimed it homophobic (this magically mostly disappeared when folk saw other mlm stories did and do continue to play out in cr, which they only realized when orym existed and was a gold star gay - i, as a gay man, do not care on the scale they do lol). astrid was completely slammed into the mud by essek fans for being his mirror but a woman (they magically did not hate wulf, the last mirror in this scenario, a man, as much). people were furious essek did not have merch at the point where not even many pcs did yet and said it was homophobic (this magically stopped when he eventually got a portrait and chibi). a few learned he was ace/demi and called it a cop out, or otherwise ignored any nuance of it because they were horny about wizard yaoi (im aware ace/demi folks do have sex, but sometimes folk use that as a justification for ignoring the ace spectrum part of an identity). from personal experience, essek fans can be..... very disturbing, predatory individuals with no regard for who they are deeply sexual around, but that is just who i met and i do not want to go into that experience. in short, a lot of c2 era fandom has BEEF with them. i cannot say it is unjustified.

so with all that context, where does that leave the character and why do people compare him to liliana & imogen?

it is my genuine opinion from observation a lot of fandom on here & twitter that essek/shadowgast/caleb fans can be.... sexist. it does not go unnoticed to me that imogen has an extremely similar moral arc to caleb and yet is called evil when caleb is called traumatized & struggling with demons but a good man. caleb was part of the vollstrecker (assassins for the empire) as a youth but broke, and ran, after killing his parents, and had to learn he was more than dirt, and learn to love again. imogen began easily jealous & in turmoil about herself and her mother, but has grown to be one of the most empathetic people who is constantly struggling between sacrifice and her simple wish to live with laudna, that it seems the universe wants to fight. both are aware they could be or are seen as living shit for their youth or conception and accept it. both dont really know how to find a way out of that. i think both are incredible characters. i notice when fans only acknowledge the hero's journey of one.

as for liliana & essek..... look, essek has a very defined character arc that we have seen come to fruition and end in redemption. liliana (and by extension bor'dor and other ruby vanguard folk) have not yet. essek was framed as neutral at first and liliana was framed as ludinus's ally. i get it. but it is impossible to me to not see liliana in the steps of essek at the beginning of his own arc. if anything i think her intentions (if not actions) are infinitely less selfish than esseks, as she wished to do this to save her daughter. ludinus has caught so many in his web, and essek got out, and liliana just realized she's in the webbing. whats interesting is how we see clear as day every conversation they have that liliana has been brainwashed into cult mentality & justification, and yet only had one or two conversations vaguely indicating this about essek, and yet essek is always praised as a survivor where liliana is not. bor'dor is very clearly like essek in being an oppressed young man who sees a calling made by a powerful older man, but entire breakdowns of how men of color are recruited into the far right have been written about essek where bor'dor (actual man of color) is despised by the same people. the tldr on this is i do think some folk can be so drunk on Hating Essek juice they swing too far in their assumptions, but the pattern of his fans misinterpreting everyone else to elevate him is based on precendent thats happened for years, and i think it is deeply.... disappointing? to watch such a nuanced story play out in c3 and refuse to engage with it whilst claiming anyone who wishes to analyze the way a cult breaks your brain is misandrist.

im so sorry this is so long, but i really do not know how else to describe all this without its nuance. i hope i wrote something that made sense.

#cr discourse #van speaks #long post #asks #also im always going to say give c2 a chance again but. thats me #critical role meta

[partypoisonzz]

passenger princess (90s!trey parker x fem!reader)

Thanks to my beloved mutual @sqiblet for the title and inspiring the concept with a message they sent me a week or so ago.

Content:

- Road head (woohoo)

- Mean!Trey

- Degradation AND praise kinks

- Hair pulling

- Everyone's a switch and nothing hurts (except for when it's meant to)

Word Count: 2,826

Disclaimer: This explicit story was written by an adult for consumption by other adults only. If you are under 18, please do not read or interact in any way.

Hope you enjoy.

- Pen

-

You shift in the passenger seat, eyes opening slowly. Squinting at the clock on the dash through the dark, you find that it is currently 10:47 PM.

Jesus, you think as you blink and stretch. I've been asleep for over four hours.

You straighten in your seat, turning to look at your boyfriend as he stops at a red light. Even in the dim light from the road, you can see that Trey looks tired, and no wonder.

The two of you threw a handful of your belongings into the trunk of his car before the sun rose this morning and started driving out to California. You're headed to some cheap little apartment that you've never even seen in person because Trey and Matt rushed to sign the lease as soon as they finished the walkthrough. You don't know exactly what to expect. You just know that your life as you've known it all these years is done, and you're starting over.

You should be scared shitless, but you aren't. You owe all of that to the guy in the driver's seat. 

A drowsy smile comes over your face. It might not be smart, but you would follow him anywhere. Once school was over and the first movie was out, the possibility of success seemed all the more real. It just wouldn't be too easy to find in Colorado. When he suggested pooling some money together and heading towards LA sooner rather than later, he was only met with agreement from Matt and Dian. And you, of course. 

Now the four of you have a one-bedroom apartment waiting for you on the outskirts of the city. It's real, and it all could be the world's dumbest flight of fancy, but you can't bring yourself to worry about it right now. 

Not when your boyfriend looks so fucking beautiful in the glow of the traffic light. 

"Hey," you rasp out, throat still scratchy from your nap. 

He glances over at you, shooting you a tired smile. "Good morning," he says, despite the fact that you still have a little over an hour to go before midnight. "How'd you sleep?" 

"As good as I can in a car." Taking note of the dark circles forming under his eyes, you ask: "Do you want to switch off again?" 

He shakes his head, loose strands of his newly-bleached hair falling over his face. "Nah," he says. "We've only got a few more miles 'til the rest stop. Then we can stop for the night." 

You frown. "You sure? You look like you're about to fall asleep…"

"I'll be fine," he assures you. His free hand lands on your thigh as the light changes, squeezing as the car creeps back into motion. "As long as I have you to keep me awake, I'll be good."

You grin, reveling in the feeling of his fingers against your skin. You find yourself wishing he would dig them in just a little bit harder, leave behind some of those pretty bruises you love so much. Reminders of who you belong to. "Keep you awake, huh?" you ask. "How?"

"Talk to me," he responds easily. Try as he might to play coy, you are keenly aware of his hand climbing higher and higher up your leg, stopping at the seam of your shorts before traveling back down. "Have any interesting dreams?" 

You laugh. "Do you want me to be honest or make one up?"

"Hmm… Honesty first."

"We made it to the apartment," you tell him. "We were unpacking. It was a dumpy little place, but I was just so happy that it was ours."

"Mmm-hmm." He gives your thigh a slight squeeze. "And what about the more interesting one?" 

You bite back a laugh as your own hand travels across the center console, stopping to hover over his zipper. "I found a more fun way to keep you awake." 

You can tell that he's struggling not to look down at where your hand is going, wondering if you're getting at what he suspects. "And what was that?" 

With that, your hand meets denim. "I blew you while you were driving."

Before he can try to suppress it, a groan breaks up from the back of his throat. "Shit," he curses.

A spark of satisfaction runs through you, noting that he's already getting hard before you even start moving your hand. It really doesn't take much. "You didn't seem tired anymore, that's for sure." You manage to keep your voice level as you palm him through his jeans, hiding the fact that you're getting wet at the mere thought of it. "Only problem was you only had one hand on the wheel. The other one was on the back of my head, pushing me further down onto your cock." You laugh. "We made a real mess, too. I tried to swallow it all, but…"

Your words drift off as he finally digs his fingers into your skin, biting out an order. "Shut up." 

Though the dominance in his tone makes your heart flutter, you continue your teasing. "Wanna do it for me?" 

"Fuck." The hand that was resting on your leg falls away, reaching to undo your seatbelt. "Come here." 

You hesitate. It's always fun to get him hot and bothered, then piss him off. All the better outcome for you. "You really think you'll be able to concentrate on the road while I'm sucking you off?" 

"Yeah, I will," he snaps. "Just get over here and…"

"Okay, okay." You lean over the center console, contorting yourself in a less-than-comfortable position. Though it's really only a mild inconvenience, you opt to put on for just a bit longer. See how wild you can drive him before getting down to it. "You know… This is sort of an awkward position…"

"Don't care," he cuts you off. "Just… Fucking…"

"Shouldn't you be a bit more patient?" you chastise him, even though you're already tugging down his zipper. 

He huffs. "Shouldn't you be a little less of a fucking tease?" He freezes, shivering slightly under your touch as you quickly manage to snap the button on his jeans and tug them down. 

Though you know he isn't looking at you, you smile up at him, anyway. "You know that you love it, baby," you coo, planting your hands against his trembling thighs. "Look at you. You try to be all mean, but you're fucking shaking for me." 

His jaw clenches. You know he's about to say something that would probably hurt your feelings if you weren't so damn turned on. Before he can, you grab ahold of his cock through the thin fabric of his boxers, inspiring a desperate gasp as he involuntarily bucks his hips up into your hand.

You laugh. Suddenly, you're the mean one. "See? You can try to take control all you want, but at the end of the day you're just my good boy." 

Your eyes flicker back up to take in his expression, only for heat to pool in your belly. 

Yeah. You've really done it now. 

Though he's obviously flustered, it's all the more apparent that he's pissed off. You love this struggle that the two of you regularly engage in, the constant question of who will be the first to give in and let the other have their way with them. 

Tonight, you had no intention of winning this struggle. You just wanted to see how much it would take to push him over the edge. 

When he stops at the next light, you know for sure that you've reached that point. His hand momentarily leaves the steering wheel, pulling his pants down the rest of the way while the fingers of his other hand curl beneath your jaw, holding your head in place. "You and your smart fucking mouth," he spits. "I'm gonna give you something else to do with it."

Just like that, any semblance of dominance leaves you. You find yourself whimpering, relishing the force of his touch. "Please."

He laughs. "Please?" he echoes. "Baby, you don't have to beg." He releases your jaw, his left hand returning to the steering wheel as his right settles on the back of your neck. You swear you could melt into the seats as he presses down. "Just fucking take it."

With those words, you do exactly as you were told.

He groans as you wrap your lips around him, tongue running over the side of his cock. You cast your eyes up again just in time to see him catch himself after leaning back against the headrest as his left hand curls back around the steering wheel. "There we go," he chokes out as he straightens his posture. 

You feel a rush of heat between your thighs as his hand moves from your neck to your hair. Now that he has you where he wants you, his forcefulness has melted away into tenderness. "That's my good girl," he praises you as you lick back up the side and over his head. You moan around him at the affectionate name, inspiring a breathy chuckle. 

"You like that, don't you?" he asks. "Yeah, you do. My desperate little good girl, sucking my cock to keep me awake while I drive."

The car begins to move again as you continue to work him. By this point, you have each other memorized, knowing exactly what sends one another over the edge. You know exactly where to press your tongue, when to hollow your cheeks around him, how fast to go. It's familiar, but it isn't boring by any stretch of the imagination. You're just waiting for the reward of making him come, — a privilege that never gets old. 

You could never get tired of his voice, either. You swear that every word and sound that leaves his mouth makes you wetter, spurring you on. 

Despite the fact that his eyes are focused on the road, Trey sounds just as thoroughly debauched as if you were kneeling in front of the couch. Each desperate groan inspires you to slow down, drawing out every repeated movement as the salty taste of precome meets your tongue. 

"Fuck," he curses as you swirl your tongue around his head at a frustratingly slow pace. "Thought you were done being a little tease…" His complaint is cut off by a gasp as you abruptly take him all the way down. 

His fingers tangle in your hair as a desperate, high-pitched sound escapes his mouth. Finally, he reaches the back of your throat, eliciting a gag.

"Holy shit, baby." You feel his thighs shaking beneath your hands again as he forces out the breathy curse. He lets out another sharp gasp as you momentarily lift your head, only to lower yourself back down, constricting around him again with a quiet choked sound.

With that, his desperate moan turns into a growl. "That's what you want, huh?" he asks. "You want me to fuck your throat?" 

You bob your head again, resulting in another gag, followed by an affirmative hum. 

He laughs, fingers running absentmindedly over your scalp. "Pretty little slut," he mutters before bucking his hips up against your mouth. 

Tears prick at your eyes as you gag again. The growing warmth between your legs causes you to shift a bit, squeezing your thighs together in an attempt to satisfy your growing desire to be touched. 

Each buck is harsh, though the violence of your gag reflex's response lessens over time. Even still, Trey's hand in your hair and the sounds that he makes are enough to leave you whimpering, shifting against the seat desperately. 

"Such a good fucking slut for me… Oh, fuck…" He rolls his hips up again, causing your throat to tighten at the same time that your walls clench around nothing. You can feel him, pulsing and twitching in your mouth, letting you know that he's getting close. 

The way his hand tightens in your hair confirms this suspicion. You moan as he collects a handful of hair and harshly tugs before pushing you back down on him. "Is this what you wanted?" he asks through a series of strained groans. "Wanted me to use you? Wanted me to treat you like my own little fuckdoll?" 

You try to hum an agreement, only for an unintelligible sound to break up from your throat. 

He laughs. The combination of affection and condescension makes you even wetter. "Don't talk with your mouth full, baby." He pushes your head down again, resulting in another choked sound. 

You focus on breathing through your nose as each push of his hips gets faster and his groans grow louder and more desperate. 

"I'm gonna come," he announces. "Gonna fill up your pretty little mouth…" 

He gives your hair an especially harsh pull as he releases with a loud, shaking groan. You let out a quiet, desperate sound as warm come fills your mouth, swallowing around him as he rides out his orgasm. 

Finally, he relaxes back against the seat with an unsteady sigh. "Fuck…" His fingers relax in your hair, going back to stroking gently as your breathing begins to even out. "You okay, baby?" 

You nod as you pull away, running your hand across your mouth as you swallow once more. "Yeah," you choke out, voice slightly rough. 

He hums in reply as he flicks on his turn signal, turning into a convenience store parking lot. 

He pulls the car into a dimly-lit parking space before reaching for the glove compartment. He comes up with a stack of fast food napkins. He uses one to clean himself up before fixing his pants. Discarding the first napkin, he turns towards you. "C'mere, hon." 

You scoot closer to him, allowing him to begin wiping at your face. 

You lean slightly into his hand as he cleans up the mascara-tinged tear streaks and mixture of come and drool. "You weren't kidding," he comments as he grabs another napkin. "We really do make a mess together."

Finally, he deems his work satisfactory, crumpling the last napkin before gently cupping your face in both hands. He presses a gentle kiss against your lips before pulling back, running his thumb against your cheek. "So good for me," he says. "I love you."

You smile, resting your forehead against his. "Love you, too."

You stay there like that for a moment before he gently pats your cheek. "Let's go get something to eat, hmm?" he says. "My treat."

-

You sit your selection of various snacks aside, grabbing a large cup from the stack next to the soda fountain. As you fill the cup up with ice, you feel a familiar pair of arms snake around your waist. 

You smile as Trey rests his chin on your shoulder, holding you as though you were standing in your own kitchen and not some random convenience store in the middle of the night. "Find anything you like?" he asks.

You lean back into him, pulling your cup away from the ice dispenser. "Mmm-hmm."

"Good." He kisses your forehead as he pulls away. "I'll be able to actually spoil you one day. I promise." 

Warmth blooms in your chest at that thought. You don't care if the spoiling part ever comes to fruition. Just the promise of one day is enough for you, assuring you that, whatever the future holds, you'll be doing it together. 

-

He doesn't let you drive the rest of the way to the rest stop. "Just a few minutes," he tells you. "Then we can both get some sleep."

Soon enough, you're parked in the parking lot, hulking trucks on all sides. The two of you climb into the backseat, where Trey takes off his jacket and folds in his lap. "Here."

You lay your head in his lap with a contented sigh, allowing him to go back to playing with your hair. You close your eyes, leaning into his touch.

"Do you want me to, ah… Do anything for you?" he asks quietly.

You laugh, shaking your head. "We'll be at the apartment tomorrow. Matt and Dian won't be up here for a few days. We'll have plenty of time." You laugh. "Too many creepy old truckers here."

"I'd make those truckers look the other fucking way…" 

You swat at him lazily. "Shut up. I know you can't fight."

"For you, I could." 

You look up at his dark-circled eyes and make an incredulous sound. "I don't think you could even stay awake for long enough."

"For you, I could," he repeats. He reaches for your hand and pulls it up to his lips. Your eyes flutter as he plants a gentle kiss against your fingers. "Love you, baby."

"Love you, too." You close your eyes, feeling yourself beginning to drift off. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Even with your eyes closed, you can hear the smile in his voice. "Yeah," he says. "Tomorrow."

Another promise to soothe you to sleep. 

#my writing #trey parker x reader #trey parker x you #trey parker x female reader

[daresplaining]

I'm going to need to know your FULL opinion on the erosion of Elektra Natchios in The Red Fist Saga ASAP!

OOF. Okay, here goes...

Elektra's role in the Red Fist Saga directly follows the Woman Without Fear mini-series, so I feel like I should start there, especially since I haven't really talked about it yet on this blog. Woman Without Fear was an Elektra solo comic that came out just as Devil's Reign was ending and the creative team was gearing up for the Red Fist Saga. The mini-series's purpose was to introduce big, shocking changes to Elektra's origin story. These changes didn't end up having much to do at all with the Red Fist Saga, or with anything else really, but they did functionally strip her of her agency and autonomy and made her motivations instead revolve around Matt. Now, Elektra's origin story has changed before. Frank Miller himself gave us three versions: the original, introduced in Daredevil volume 1 #168 and #190, a slight variation in Elektra: Assassin (he changed the timeline a bit and modified the character of Elektra's father), and then an entirely new, in my opinion much less interesting version in Man Without Fear-- which was not intended to be part of the 616 continuity, though that didn't stop later writers from drawing from it, including Zdarsky, who seems to have used it as a core text to inform his characterization of Elektra in general.

I know you know Elektra's original origin story, but I'll provide the general gist for anyone who might be unfamiliar: Elektra Nachios was the daughter of a rich Greek diplomat and his wife. Her mother was gunned down by assassins while pregnant, but Elektra survived. Her father, now paranoid and fearful, put Elektra in martial arts classes from a young age, while also keeping her sheltered to protect her from harm. She ended up attending college in the US, where she met Matt Murdock, another sheltered kid with a beloved but overprotective father. They fell in love, but the magic was destroyed when Elektra and her father were taken hostage by terrorists. Matt tried to be a hero, and Elektra's father ended up getting killed. Shattered by grief, Elektra left school and traveled across the world to train with Stick, who had trained her childhood martial arts teacher before casting him out (in Elektra: Assassin, the timeline is slightly different; Elektra trained with Stick before attending Columbia, though the end result is the same). Stick saw Elektra's skill, but judged that she was too emotionally compromised to complete the training and kicked her out. Elektra devised a desperate plan to prove herself to Stick: infiltrating the Hand and taking them down from the inside. She failed tragically. Turned cynical by grief and hardship, she used the skills she had picked up from all of her training as weapons to protect herself from a harsh and unforgiving world. She carved herself a life from the tragedies she had endured. She became an assassin.

Note that I mentioned Matt's name a grand total of two times in that synopsis. It's not to say that Matt isn't important to Elektra, of course he is, but he isn't that important to her origin story. The star of this beautiful tragedy is Elektra, as she should be.

Woman Without Fear introduces something new-- at least, new to the comics (more on that in a moment). It takes the Elektra: Assassin timeline and suggests that she trained with Stick when she was still a child. (It also brings in things from the Man Without Fear Elektra origin, but I don't think I'm going to get into that here because that is a whole other rant and this post is long and tangent-y enough already). It then suggests that when Stick rejected her, she still ended up with the Hand-- but not of her own will, with the intention of destroying them. No! She was successfully recruited. And once the Hand had her in their clutches, they sent her out to go after another target: Matt Murdock. In this shiny new backstory, Elektra and Matt run into each other at college not as two kindred spirits, but because Elektra was ordered to hang out with him in order to bag him for the Hand...before, oh no!, accidentally falling in love with him. To add extra insult to this character assassination, we're told in the main series that even her behavior during her father's hostage situation was intended as a test for Matt.

What this change indicates to me is a fundamental lack of understanding of Elektra's character; or worse, a lack of respect for her complexity, or a conviction that she operates at her best as a tool to further Matt's narrative.

What is possibly most baffling to me about all of this is that this change had pretty much no bearing on the Red Fist Saga. Why was it made? What was the point? The term "MCU-ification", referring to changes being made in Marvel's comics that seem aimed at aligning them more closely with the MCU, gets thrown around a lot-- possibly too much-- but this really does seem like a case where there's no other clear explanation for the change other than to shift 616 Elektra's backstory closer to that of her live action counterpart. (In the Netflix show, Elektra recruited Matt for Stick; something I, as a huge Stick and Elektra fan, actually thought was a cool What If?/alternate universe because it presented an opportunity to explore a different take on their relationship). The new backstory is mentioned a few times in the main Daredevil series, but otherwise it seems irrelevant to the plot. And that's because Elektra herself is kind of irrelevant to the plot. She seems to have three purposes in this story: 1. To serve alongside Stick as an exposition machine and provide details about the Hand/Fist/Pinky Toe/etc.; 2. To be someone Matt loves and thinks about in moments of danger and conflict (despite the fact that they have very few moments of actual emotional connection in this story, despite getting married!), and 3. As a warm body onto which Matt can project his perpetual internal musings on good and evil ("Elektra was Bad, but she is Good now. She, like all people who have done bad things, is still worthy of God's love and is capable of rehabilitation, and look! Her decision to take on the Daredevil identity is proof that she is now Good! She has become a worthy soldier of God." Man, I wish I was exaggerating.)

Elektra's appearances in Daredevil comics have always centered around Matt to some degree, simply because it is his comic. There's miles of difference between reading a DD comic with Elektra cameos and reading an Elektra solo series. But that doesn't mean it isn't frustrating to have comics like the Blackman/Del Mundo run, or the Dark Reign solo tie-in, that delve so deeply into Elektra's rich psyche, that truly do look at her worldview in a way that is complex and morally difficult and so, so compelling, and then to have comics like this where she barely even feels present because so little effort has been made to do anything other than slap some vague morality lessons onto her and make sure she and Matt sleep together every other issue.

#Daredevil vol. 7 #Woman Without Fear (2022) #Elektra Natchios #Asks #Commentary #Adventures in Continuity #Reading “Woman Without Fear” truly felt like being punched in the face. And to what end?

[pastafossa]

A Brief Existential Crisis (Matt Murdock x f!Reader; Fic)

Because this fluffy idea wouldn’t let me go so now you all get a drabble. Set in TRT!Verse but not required reading. SFW. Minor spoilers for ep 8 of She Hulk!

"She didn't know who I was," Matt said mournfully, staring blindly up at you.

"I'm sorry," you said, radiating as much sympathy as you could while also still kinda distracted by the Los Angeles weather report on the hotel tv. How was 68 degrees considered freezing?

"No one else recognized me either," he mumbled, his chest heaving on a great sigh. "All night. One guy even called me a gold ninja devil."

"Ridiculous," you agreed as he slowly edged his head further into your lap. You forced down your grin, which was especially difficult when his expression was so pitiful, not unlike that of a kitten caught in the rain. "Yes? What is it, beloved husband of mine?"

"You know what I want." He made a sad little noise, arching further into your lap until his head bumped your opposite hand where you'd settled it on your thigh. "Please, sweetheart. I need the dopamine after everything that happened."

You snorted and gave in, running your fingers fondly through his dark hair. You even made sure to scratch with your nails just for the way it made him purr and melt into your lap, his eyes rolling back as his mouth fell slack.

Unfortunately, this particular existential crisis was too great to be struck low but something so minor as your fingers in his hair.

"Is it... the suit?" he mumbled, the words just a little slurred. "Not... mm, mm.... recognizable?"

Honestly, considering the color, he's now recognizable from space.

It was just a good thing he was handsome enough to pull it off.

"You're always recognizable as the only Devil-based hero with any real charm," you said confidently, keeping your thoughts to yourself. You shifted your fingers to his temple, scratching at a new spot. You were rewarded with a blatant moan, Matt's toes curling in his socks. "Trust me. It's not you. It's them. LA is, uh... just... more focused on... its own thing. You know how it is. So fuck em. You're still my favorite even if they don't know you."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm. And think about it this way. You might be less known, but that just means you're like, uh..."

"...I'm small-time," he sighed gloomily. "Just admit it."

"Hang on, I've got a comparison coming." You rolled your head up, narrowing your eyes at the ceiling in thought as Matt rolled over to burrow in against your abdomen with an exaggerated groan of sorrow. But there was no hiding his grin, not once you could feel it. "Don't suffocate yourself just yet."

He mumbled something unintelligible, and presumably tragic and martyr-y.

It took you a minute, but then you nodded. "Ok, I've got it."

He grunted, and tipped his head a little in prompting until you started dragging your fingers through his hair again, this time at the back of his head where the Devil mask always made him sore. The, "Mm?" he let out in response was glutted and thick, like the slurred purr of a cat on its back in a puddle of sunshine.

"You are basically one of those 'best kept secrets of the city' things," you said lightly. "All the tourists flock to the flashy stuff, restaurants that are shiny and get all the attention. But the locals know where the good stuff is, the quality stuff, and they know the best burgers always come from that one mom and pop hole in the wall. They don't tell the non-locals, cause someone might steal the recipe or buy it out. That's what you are. You're that burger."

There was a pause, and then he tipped his face up so you could see his warm smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "That was very sweet."

"Thank you."

"It's also horseshit."

You groaned, rolling your head back as he laughed and dropped his head back onto your lap. "Come on, it was a good comparison!"

"No, no, there's no helping it. I just have to grieve my murdered ego," he sighed, blinking sadly up at you. Or your chin, really, but it was close enough. "There is one thing that might help me feel better, though, and distract me from my wounded pride."

"What's that?"

He hummed, licking his lips as he rolled onto his side, his head still on your lap, close enough for him to nuzzle at your abdomen. "I could eat."

Your brow furrowed. "We literally ate an hour ago. We went through In-N-Out. You were not impressed, you blasphemer."

He hummed, before leaning in and pointedly nipping the waistband of your sweats.

Oh.

"I'm hungry, sweetheart," he murmured, tipping his head down towards your lap as he drew in a slow inhale. "So hungry and empty where all my pride used to be. Can't I just have a little to help fill that void?"

"Oh my god, Matt," you choked out, two seconds away from losing it as he rolled upright to grab your legs and drag you down the bed until you were flat on your back.

"You're the one that chose food for your metaphor," he said with a grin, nudging your legs apart. "I'm just following my wife’s example."

"Oh alright, I suppose I could be charitable just this once. You did get spanked by a Hulk today, after all."

"She caught me. She didn't-"

"Spanked," you repeated gleefully, making him snort. "Want me to kiss the print on your ass and make it better?"

"At least let me eat dinner first."

"Fine. But I expect it as my tip at the end."

"Deal."

#matt murdock x f!reader #the red thread #daredevil x f!reader #daredevil #matt murdock #fic #fanfic #drabble #reader #reader fic #reader insert #she hulk attorney at law spoilers #matt using his misfortune in order to get sympathetic head scratches #and dinner while he's at it

[littencloud9]

Pre relationship kunichuuzai "Well, what now?"

and/or

Sigma and anyone + lipstick

pre-rs kunichuuzai is something that can be so special actually. the ridiculous pining. the drama. the feelings. mwah

"Well, what now?" Chuuya sighs, gesturing to the pouring rain and the unsheltered area they need to cross. "There's no other way from here." "Can't you use your ability?" Dazai asks. "I dunno, create a gravity umbrella or something." "Who the hell do you think I am? I can't do that," Chuuya grumbles. They turn to Kunikida, poking a finger to his chest. "You're the one who actually makes stuff with his ability. Make an umbrella." "I cannot. I can only makes things the size of this notebook." "Get a bigger notebook, damn!" Dazai can't help but laugh, especially when Kunikida looks so offended that Chuuya suggest he change his beloved notebook brand. "Well, we can always just run. My apartment is just down that street," Chuuya says. Kunikida and Dazai give each other a surprised look. "...Really? You don't mind?" "Why would I mind?" Chuuya asks, their voice pitched a little bit higher than usual. They grimace, then grab Kunikida's hand and begins dragging him through the rain. "H-hey!" Dazai watches them go for a short moment, listens to Kunikida yell about how tight Chuuya's grip is and Chuuya call him a weakling. He then remembers that he's supposed to follow, and hurries to grab his cane and go after them. Under the rain, Kunikida's hair gets soaked. Chuuya's hair is still slightly protected by their hat, and they laugh at his misery, reaching up to pull off his hair tie in one swift motion. Kunikida grabs Chuuya's hat in retaliation, holding it up high enough so they can't reach. It's so childish. Dazai's partners swat at each other, trying to get back their respective things, all while the rain continues falling. Chuuya suddenly trips, stumbling into Kunikida's hold, and he bursts out laughing. As Chuuya whines for Kunikida to shut up, they turn to Dazai, raising an eyebrow. "And what are you staring at? Go away!" Despite their words, their eyes are shining. Kunikida turns to him, smiling softly, and Dazai's heart leaps out of his throat. ...Oh no.

-

i chose sigma + yosano because i think they'd be great friends. also she/they sigma real and true to me

Sigma's eyes widen when Yosano opens her makeup drawer. showing off a collection of lipsticks and glosses all in different shades. Yosano takes out a sheer pink gloss, showing it to them. "This is the one I usually wear. It's strawberry flavoured!" Sigma tilts her head. "It looks sticky." "It is," Yosano admits. She digs through her drawer, taking out a few black lipstick containers and placing them on her desk. "These are matte, so they're not as sticky. Pick one!" Sigma looks through the colours. They're mostly varying shades of pink, but there are some reds and purples within the collection. They point to the cherry red shade and Yosano nods, uncapping it. "I almost never use this one, but the colour is gorgeous." She twists the lipstick out to show her. "It'll go well with your hair and eyes. Wanna try?" Sigma suddenly feels a bit shy. Yosano has been extremely nice to her ever since she joined the Agency, taking her out shopping or to get their nails done and whatever other fun activities she can think up. Yosano insists that it's no big deal, but Sigma still feels indebted to her kindness. Still, they nod, and Yosano lights up. She holds their chin with gentle hands and applies the lipstick in smooth swipes. When she's done, she takes out a mirror and shows it to her. "Oh, wow," Sigma whispers. touching her lips. The colour's not as strong as it looked, so it's less jarring than they expected. "I like it." Yosano beams. She caps the lipstick back and presses it to her hands. "Keep it!"

#<33 thank you for the prompts! #bsd #kunichuuzai #sigma #yosano akiko #my writing #asks #ness <3

[quietwingsinthesky]

I completely agree with your post about 11 and how well Matt Smith embodies the exact necessary tone/expression for each beat of the script! I can't imagine someone else being able to bring to life that incarnation of the Doctor. Obviously 11's era and writing has its misgivings and flaws, but I still find a lot of joy rewatching those episodes, because you see this scared, lonely doctor who's still so enthusiastic and hopeful, even when the grief and rage gets to him. It's like seeing those emotions reflected in you, and a reminder that you'll feel that hope and appreciation for life/nature again, too. I think that emotional catharsis and sincerity is the heart of doctor who and what attracts us all to the show, to be given reminders that compassion and hope are a strength, not a weakness. Seeing his expression change during that part of The Doctor's Wife always, always moves me because of the kind of honor and awe that dawns on 11's face at his tardis using the exact words he uses to describe how he stole her. It's such beautiful, tender reciprocity between two beings that couldn't communicate their feelings in this way until right then 💜

yeah, couldn’t have worded it better myself if i tried.

i think i’ve said before that eleven is my least favorite doctor, but i need to make it clear that that doesn’t even come close to me disliking him, or even feeling neutral about him. he’s still incredible, like if we put these guys on a line from bad to amazing, all of them are so close to the amazing side that you’d have to zoom in to see the order. he’s just got the unfortunate fate of being in the weakest seasons of the show that i’ve seen so far, but if i was judging this solely off of the performance of the doctor himself? he’d be tied right there with david tennant, if not above him.

no matter the quality of the writing, matt smith is bringing his A game to the table. tennant’s performance before him has moments where his doctor is serious and cold, but he’s so generally affable that those moments sort of slide off to the sides. not that you forget about it, but that it feels like a lesser part of him. and matt smith’s performance follows that with a doctor who is silly and energetic and sweet, but I think he pulls off keeping the harder parts of the doctor to swallow in mind, the scary sides of his grief and anger. some of my favorite scenes for eleven are when he’s given the space to show the full range of the doctor. the two that really come to mind are obviously that moment in the doctor’s wife, and my other stand-out favorite, his scenes with river in angels in manhattan, where we watch him lash out at her when he’s scared and angry at the fact that it was her name on the book that’s fated his friends to be pulled from him, and then a scene later, he heals her wrist by sacrificing what little regeneration energy he has left, because he does love her, he does know he was wrong to let her be hurt, but he also doesn’t ask if he can do this to fix things beforehand and upsets her again.

it’s just such a delicate balance to pull off there to make that scene work, and he does it perfectly, brings across both how much potential he has as the doctor to hurt and to heal the people he loves. i think, in the hands of any other actor, i would find eleven really hard to watch, really unlikeable. but just like he manages to never let you forget those unbearably painful parts of the doctor’s personality, you also never doubt that, even when he lashes out at the people around him, he loves them so much. he’s just. you know. Going Through It.

(also, personal touch, i so love how physically affectionate he portrays the doctor to be. it’s a small touch that means the world to me. really pulls the whole thing together when you know this man is just jumping for an opportunity to hug and hold onto and kiss the people around him. rory getting a forehead kiss when the doctor sees him for the first time in months, my beloved, rotating that moment in my head forever.)

there’s just so much going on with him. he was a fantastic doctor. (hell, all the people that have gotten to play the doctor so far have been, in my eyes, which is astounding to me. just straight bangers the whole way through, i’m incredibly impressed by how much love and work you can see go into these performances.) i think if i rewatch his seasons again, knowing exactly what to expect this time around, i’ll enjoy them much more than i did the first time.

sorry for rambling on so long, but i just need it known how much i really do love eleven. i needed a bit to warm up to smith, i’ll admit, but he earned every last bit of praise i can give him.

#ask #doctor who #the doctor #eleventh doctor

[dayurno]

big truther that kevin secretly and unironically likes when people call him princess like when the foxes make fun of him for being whiny and entitled sometimes (as he is wont to be) calling him princess day and princess kev he’s like wowww u guys suck but he’s actually like Please keep calling me that

there is indeed a fox freshman (corinne i believe?) in the ec who calls kevin a princess to his face. instead of "good morning sunshine" in the foxhole court spanish translation matt actually says "good morning, princess" to kevin. i feel like we started this out as a little joke but it's not one anymore. Perhaps it hasn't been in a long time

it's poised as an insult in both of these instances but i really think kevin just wouldn't care!!!!! one of the things that surprised me most about aftg was that kevin's queen motif wasn't IMMEDIATELY run to the ground by male sports fans because of the feminine associations!!!! the entire time i was waiting for the ball to drop and when it never did, i had a moment of relief sooooooooo potent. i still think it's not very well seen by the most eh. macho crowd but kevin will probably never be beloved by them anyway. either way i think kevin finds a lot of comfort in femininity :3

anyway this is all to say one day eventually someone (nicky) will call him babygirl to his face

#imo when riko died the perfect court fans divided themselves between kevin and jean #and jean got most of the fans that resented kevin for leaving edgar allen + for riko's death + for the queen motif #i think kevin is just pretty infamous for a moment there after riko's death honestly #lots of theories that he bullied riko and was the reason for his suicide too #so yeah it doesnt help him much that hes calling himself feminine terms either. but at this point you know. #my pretty girl i will defend you #kevin #asks

[mabelstone]

Beloved

matt stone x reader

summary: chapter six of Professor Stone

word count: 3064

note: i tried to incorporate all of your ideas and my next post will be crediting you all! not super happy with the start but i hope the ending satisfies you as much as it did me 😌 next chap will be the final </3 hence why this was a longer one xx

also eric is eric stough (i know he's nothing like the character portrayed in this but go along with it) not cartman. i would like to make that VERY clear.

masterlist can be found here <3

Thankfully, figuring a way to make your taboo love affair work didn't involve having to drop calculus. You thanked your lucky stars for that one. You'd since had to relocate your... sessions though, as a few of your cocky classmates raised their suspicions in class.

It went a little something like:

"Alright, before you all finally get out of here, any further questions?" Your professor queried to the class, leaning carelessly against his desk as he always did. It was strange, his arrogance used to make you roll your eyes but now it caused your heart to squeeze painfully and your cheeks ache from smiling.

"Actually, yeah, I have a question." Someone from the back of the class spoke, sitting next to Trey and a few of their other friends, gaining the attention of most of the class. Your professor waited expectantly, unamused by the way Trey and his friends were suppressing laughter. "How come Y/N stays back after, like, every single class? It just seems a bit weird."

You felt your cheeks glow red as the eyes of your classmates turned to you instead, your heart rate beginning to pick up. Hushed murmurs rose throughout the room, your professor clearing his throat with arms folded across his chest. You quickly glanced over to him, but his eyes never moved from the boys at the back of the room. It was like power play for him, he was near impossible to crack. "Are you suggesting something? Because if you're going to be a smart ass in my class, you could at least have the balls to enlighten us."

You looked up at Matt with pleading eyes, praying he would just dismiss the class so you could all go home and forget about this. But then you remembered who was in charge here, and he was not looking at you. You sunk into your seat, overwhelmingly embarrassed as you heard Trey and his friends laughing. Your professor remaining uneasily calm as he approached the boys' table.

"Come on wise guy, tell me what your hypothesis is," he taunted, voice composed, almost condescending.

Another one of the males, Eric, spoke up in a similarly cocky tone, "well, we all think you're screwing her." The next part he said under his breath, making your heart sink and your stomach turn; "which is strange... we thought she was frigid 'cause she blue balled Trey a few times."

Just like that, Matt's fuse blew. "Everyone out, now." He commanded angrily, pupils blown, hands balled into fists. The class collected their things, piling out without hesitation. The boys from the back started packing up with shit-eating grins, evoking a very stern, "uh-uh. You three stay. You too, Y/N," from your professor.

You stayed in your seat, absolutely dumbfounded at what just happened. Trey looked just as embarrassed as you, not humoured by the situation anymore. He moved to sit in the chair next to you while Matt instructed his goons to move to the front as well.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N," Trey spoke hushed, sympathetically. He grabbed your hand in his own, rubbing his thumb over your soft skin as you sat frozen in disbelief. "I didn't know he was gonna say that, I'm-"

"Hands off her, Parker," your professor scolded, leaning his back against his desk with folded arms again. The four of you were lined up in front of him like high schoolers in detention, and you could tell Matt was secretly loving every moment of it.

"See, dude! He is fucking her," one of them snickered, the other (Dian was his name, maybe) joining in, throwing his hands up in defence.

"No shade, sir, everyone's thought about fucking her at least once." He continued, sizing you up with his eyes. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, unable to make eye contact with anyone. Usually, you'd bite back, but when they were actually close to finding the truth - the truth that could get you expelled and your controversial love interest fired - you couldn't even think straight. "Trey's the only lucky one who's been close enough this year, at least. Oh, besides you, sir. But you don't mind sloppy seconds, right?"

He grabbed the cocky student's desk, ripping it out from in front of him and practically throwing it across the room. "You do not speak about her like that. And you definitely do not disrespect me like that," he shouted loud, veins bulging from his neck and forehead. "The next one of you to open your mouth will be sorry, and I promise that." Eric and Dian had stopped laughing at this point, realising they'd maybe taken it too far.

Matt straightened up, satisfied with the painful silence that filled the room now. He took a deep breath to compose himself, clearing his throat before continuing. "Apologise to her," he instructed, secretly humoured.

"I'm really so sorry, Y/N," Trey apologised immediately and Matt had to put all of his energy into not bursting out laughing. Instead he nodded to the next in line, Eric, with pursed lips and the perfect poker face.

"R-really?" Eric quirked with a raised brow, this whole situation feeling as degrading as Matt intended. "Um, sorry... Y/N."

"Again, like you mean it," your professor commanded, eyes dark, the faintest grin on his lips. He was loving this. It kind of turned you on.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," Eric mumbled, refusing to make eye contact like a child who just got scolded by his mother in front of his friends. Satisfied, Matt's eyes narrowed in on Dian.

"I have nothing to apologise for, dude," Dian scoffed, leaning back in his seat to get a good look at you. "Y/N, is he at least any good?"

Again, your face flushed the deepest red, eyes wide, that sick feeling hitting you like a truck once more. You nearly choked on nothing, eyes immediately begging for Matt to speak up.

"Well done," your professor started with a wide grin, yet there was nothing friendly about his tone. "You'll be hearing from the dean, and you will be removed from my class for sexual harassment. You'll have to retake this class, which isn't until next year. That is, if the dean doesn't expel you on the spot. And trust me, I will try my hardest to make that happen."

"I didn't sexually harass anyone, fuckwit," Dian bit back, even his friends were now shocked at his behaviour. Little did your professor know, he bumped a few lines before coming to class, his inflated ego clearly a result of that. "Besides, I'm graduating next month and final grades have been released."

"You clearly don't understand how any of this works," Matt laughed, all eyes in the room on him. "Next month, you will watch all of your friends graduate, while you are held back another year, or hopefully, kicked out of your degree."

"I'll just drop out then," Dian shrugged. The look on Matt's face made you want to rip his clothes off then and there and have your way with him.

"Good, that'll save me a lot of work, and save you a lot of time as you're clearly not gonna go far in life," Matt seethed, waving his hand dismissively. "Get out of here, better to not waste time or resources on dead heads." The three of them got up and left, Dian spewing a stream of curse words and insults to your professor, only making him laugh incredulously as Dian's friends dragged him out of the theatre.

Once they left, Matt walked over to your desk, kneeling before you. You still had a shocked look on your face, unable to fathom what the fuck all of that was. "You okay, doll?" He spoke gently, a stark contrast to the tone he barked just seconds ago. You just nodded, blinking up at him expressionless. "As long as you're with me, nobody will get away with that."

"We aren't together though, Matt." You sighed with a hint of sadness in your tone as you continued, "I graduate in a month. What happens then? I wont be able to just stay after class."

"I've been thinking about that," he started, taking your hands in his, solemn glazing his eyes as he paused before speaking again. "I want you to be mine. I want everyone to know you're off limits."

You smiled weakly at this, reaching a hand up to cup his face. His attitude had completely changed. It was gentle and sincere, holding your hands as if they'd smash into pieces with any more applied pressure. "I wanna be yours too," you agreed, slowly leaning forward until your lips hovered millimetres away from one another. He ran his thumb over your bottom lip, before pressing the warmest, sweetest kiss to your mouth, smiling into it.

"Come to my house," he offered against your lips. You pulled back for a moment, thinking it through. You looked up at him again, nodding sheepishly in agreement. You didn't know why the thought of being in his space made you so nervous. Maybe because it was all becoming too real?

You stayed back for a bit, listening to him talk to the dean on the phone, dramatising the altercation with Dian... he really wanted him expelled. He gave you a reassuring smile as he wrapped up the phone call, seemingly satisfied with himself. The way he smiled at you made your heart flutter. You hoped he felt it too.

"Appreciate it, sir. You too, bye-bye." He hung up with an exaggerated exhale, eyes wide, causing a small giggle to fall from your lips. "C'mere, bring your phone," he beckoned you over with his fingers, rolling back in his chair for you to sit in his lap. Once you did, you unlocked your phone and he took it from you, adding his number to your contacts. He made his contact name, "Matt ❤️," before laughing and erasing the heart. Once you took your phone back, you added the heart again, feeling him huff a soft breath against your neck.

"I want to shower before I come over, I better head off," you turned to face him, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips before standing up, being held back by a firm grip around your wrist.

"I'll walk you to your car," he offered, standing up as well as if to make the decision for you.

"Are you nuts?" You laughed, dismissing him with the shake of your head. "After that shit? I appreciate it, but I'm a big girl. I'll just see you later."

"No, fuck them." He retorted, grabbing his own belongings before turning off the lights. "For all anyone else knows, you're shaken up from the harassment, and would feel safer with a big, strong man with you."

"My knight in shining armour," you mocked with a faux swoon, earning an eye roll from your professor.

“Don’t push it,” he warned, turning off the lights in the hall before walking you out.

You didn’t speak much on the walk to your car, though a warm, secure feeling lingered in the space between you. You’d never been out of the theatre together and it felt almost domestic having him walk you to your car. It was pretty late as your class ended at 7pm; nearly everyone had left the campus, give or take a few.

“Text me, okay? I’ll be home in like, thirty minutes.” He opened your door for you, causing a pretty pink blush to paint across your cheeks. He was leaning one arm on the side of your car, head tilted down at you as you climbed in the front seat. He was wearing that black fitted button up that made your cervix beg to be assaulted. The contours of his face were illuminated under the single street light, his bicep bulging against the cotton confines of his shirt. You could've ripped his clothes off and taken him right then and there, but any chance of that happening was interrupted by a gentle tap of your car roof, and hushed words of, "see ya' later, pretty girl."

You went home, shaving every inch of your body, absolutely dousing yourself in perfume. You didn't have to put in work for uni - it was uni. This, however, was very different. This was your professors' home, the most intimate location you could possibly spend time together in. Hoping to seem nonchalant and disguise your anxiety, you threw on your prettiest sundress; a short lilac number with slightly frilled hemming. Your hair was in a simple half up half down style with minimal make up on. You thought you looked pretty. You hoped he would think the same.

The drive to Matt's place was quicker than you expected. Your heart was pounding so hard, you were worried you'd crack a rib. It was so bizarre to you that you were so nervous, despite the fact that you had slept with him more times than you could count on both hands. You raised a shaky fist to his large wooden front door, knocking twice. The door swung open almost immediately, and you were met with the gap-toothed smile you'd grown so fond of.

"Woah, you were just waiting by the door, huh?" You teased as he opened it for you, brazenly sizing you up with his eyes.

"It's not every night I get visitors this beautiful." He ushered you in to his home, which was beautiful and smelt so nice. "Hope you're hungry." You sat at the kitchen table that was set with two plates and two wine glasses. He'd prepared restaurant quality chicken and vegetables, and although quite a simple dish, it looked amazing, and the fact that he'd made it for you made you feel all fuzzy inside. You'd eat burnt toast if it meant you could share dinner with him.

A few glasses of wine in and you were all gooey inside. Everything was warm, everything made you happy.

"What?" He smiled, infatuated by the way your flushed cheeks accentuated your drunken smile, your sweet giggles the prettiest sound he'd heard all year.

"Nothin', just happy," you murmured, bringing the wine glass to your lips once again.

You were sitting beside one another on his couch, your legs entwined as he sat with his arms draped over the edge. He looked absolutely delectable; facial hair neatly grown out, short curls atop his head, wearing a navy blue t-shirt that hugged his muscles just right.

"I meant what I said earlier," he started, green eyes piercing your own, before continuing, "I want to be with you."

Your cheeks burned a deeper hue of red, this time not a result of your inebriation. "I wanna be with you too... but how? Can't you lose your job?"

"Not once you graduate," he shrugged nonchalantly, throwing back the remaining wine in his glass. "How long is that? Like, a month? I can wait."

You set your wine down on the coffee table across from you, moving to straddle him where he sat. His hands instinctively found your hips, your lips connecting gently, moving perfectly in sync. You moved your lips to his neck, gently sucking on the warm skin, marking him with dark purple prints of your lips. His warm fingers travelled up under your dress, already hooked into your underwear, urging you to remove the barrier between your flesh and his. You stood up, slipping them off as he unzipped his pants, sliding them down enough that he could free his already painfully hard cock.

You immediately climbed back onto him, feeling it occasionally bob against your heat. He'd had you riled up the whole time, and you'd clearly had the same effect on him. He spat on his fingers before gingerly spreading it over your entrance, allowing you to line yourself up and slowly sink down onto it. A lewd whimper escaped your flushed lips as you threw your head back, adjusting to the delicious stretch you felt. He let out a low groan of his own, his usual desperate, bruise producing touch replaced with the foreignly gentle guidance of your hips. Knees flat against the couch with your thighs clinging to either side of his, you pushed yourself up his length with your toes, sinking back down deeper this time. Your lips naturally found one another again, parting in invitation for his tongue. Your tongues wrestled in the most gentle manner, absolutely no haste in your actions. You took the time to explore each other, tasting every inch of your mouths as you shared soft breaths and satisfied moans. His hands trailed up your back, moving his lips to your collarbones where he placed soft kisses, tongue dragging along your warm skin. He reached his peak fast after you increased your pace, the warm wet feeling of your arousal sending him over the edge within minutes. The most holy sound you'd ever heard departed his lips as finished inside of you, his hooded eyes not leaving yours once.

He moved you onto your back in one swift motion, hiking your legs up over his shoulders as he knelt off the edge of the couch. He slipped two fingers into your sopping core with ease, languidly lapping at your sensitive clit. Your hands nestled in his hair, lightly raking through his curls as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. His nose occasionally brushing the sensitive area as he so tenderly bought you to climax, your legs tensing around his face as a mirage of ecstasy washed over you. You mewled his name in the way he imagined an angel would, working you through your orgasm in a way you'd never experienced. You weren't sure you'd understood the term love making until now.

You wanted everyone to know how he made you feel, and he, the way you made him feel.

He pulled up his pants and climbed back onto the couch beside you, pulling your body flush against his, his pounding heart echoing in your ear as you caught your breath and came back to earth from cloud nine.

As you felt his heart rate slow against your cheek, he spoke up. "Stay the night. You can borrow some of my clothes."

You laughed to yourself before saying, "I hoped you'd ask. I packed clothes... they're in my car."

#matt stone #matt stone x reader #matt stone smut #professor!au #professor!matt stone

[bohnsky]

Honestly after Qatar I was anything but motivated to post, so here it is for Qatar and Texas.

I literally still feel sick thinking about what the drivers had to go through just because Qatar has money. It physically hurts me. I'm honestly just glad that everyone is okay now.

That being said here are my favorite drivers 5,5 months into liking f1:

1. Alex Albon

As always, my beloved. This guy made me support Williams in the first place and now they have become my second favorite team (after Ferrari of course, because I apparently like pain). It sometimes feels like they're the only one's who really care for their drivers.

In Texas I was really stressed out like what do you mean 0,3s away from the points in the sprint race? And what do you mean 11th in the race?

2. Sergio Perez

Checo is the sweetest, I love his smile so much and it felt good to see so many Checo fans over there in Texas, not only haters. He was doing okay this week, but Lewis is getting closer and closer and I'm scared. I just need him to be good in Mexico, otherwise I'm going to quit watching F1 (I would never but please Checo please)

3. Lewis Hamilton

This was a hard decision. But I've been obsessing over Lewis again these past few weeks so he gets 3rd for now. Even though him being good literally tears my soul apart. I want him to be good, but he's a danger to Checo my beloved. I am sooo happy that Mercedes seem to get closer to Red Bull and that Lewis might have even had a chance today if the race had been just a few laps longer. But at the same time, please be worse than Checo.

Also Lewis is one of the very few men that I find breathtakingly beautiful. He is so gorgeous. And I love his tattoos. Especially his hand tattoos.

Fun Fact: My dad watched the Qatar GP with me, which was his first race ever and now he keeps refering to Lewis as the one who never makes it past turn one. Can't wait to tell him that the one who never makes it past turn one almost got Max.

4. Charles Leclerc

This was another hard decision, because I love Charles, but the past few weeks I barely paid attention to him (not because I didn't want to, but because there were so many other things to focus on, plus Uni sucks). I have thought about putting him on 5th, but who am I kidding, I love Charles too much and when he took pole I basically had the same reaction as Matt from p1. But I didn't really have time to be sad, about him losing P1 so early, because there was so much happening.

Also both Ferraris have been doing quite good, just not good enough, which is sad, but at least they didn't have any major strategy fuck-ups.

5. Lando Norris

I almost put him in 4th. This is mainly because I totally fell in love with Team Quadrant and was watching almost all of their youtube videos. Texas quali was the first time is tuned in to Max Fewtrell's watch along and I couldn't help but cheer along for Lando. And for the first half of the race I thought that there might be a chance for him to get his first win. It's kinda frustrating watching him being on the podium every weekend but never on the top step.

Honorable mentions:

Lance. He's really close to taking 5th. I might just have two 5th places next time. I might feel for him even more than I feel for Checo. And that means something. My boy passing out in the car in the middle of the race in Qatar? I literally couldn't sleep after reading about all of this. Just imagine the things that could have happened. I could cry just thinking about it. And then the dnf in the sprint race in Texas. He was doing so good and then that. But at least we got some Strollonso content and two stroints. Good race for him today.

Logan. I didn't think I'd ever say that, but Logan has kinda sneaked his way into my heart. He's nowhere near the top five but same as Checo and Lance, I just want him to have a good race for once. Qatar might have opened my eyes about him. That he was the only driver with the balls to retire for the sake of his health. And a big thanks to Williams for being so lovely. I feel like no other team would be so understanding. Sure you could say they have nothing to lose, but still. It takes some bravery to do. And I'm happy they did.

Also the Texas race was quite good, happy for Logan. Even though the rest of the weekend sucked.

Fernando. I don't know how and when it happened but I feel myself growing fonder of Fernando every day. I realized during quali when I was really upset that both Williams, both Astons and Hulk were out in Q1. So, all five of them, drivers that I wanted to see doing well. And the dnf in the race sucked so bad. Both Astons did so well and then that.

But then again, at least we got some Strollonso content. Fernando always pointing his camera at Lance is so cute.

Also him dead ass asking the team to pour water over him in Qatar might be my favorite thing ever.

Nico. Also no idea where that came from, but I realized that I have developed a huge soft spot for Nico. It started with me being interested in how he does because he's German. Then I started to genuinely like him and now I have this huge soft spot for him. It's not like he's competing for the top five though. It kinda feels like he has his own category (again, might be the German in me talking). I respect him big time, spitting facts about how shitty Haas is and frequently driving that shit box into the points. But I don't really search for content about him. Except for Hulknussen every now and then.

Speed round:

Oscar's safe (mad respect, many would have sent that into the wall) and stupid dnf. Also Loscar is kinda cute.

Alpine being sponsored by Travis Kelce. I just think it's funny how the whole Taylonso thing comes full circle now with Tay's new boyfriend basically buying Fernando's ex team.

Also Esteban just casually talking about throwing up in his helmet...

Nico Rosberg. I initially didn't like him, but he does spit facts and I appreciate that.

Yukierre. They're too cute for my little heart.

Pierre and Danny Ric. It's crazy to me how two drivers who literally used to be my favorites at some point are now totally irrelevant to me. I still like them, but in a normal way. Which is weird. I'm not used to being normal about something.

F1 acadamy slaying. And Bianca in McLaren :)

Women.

(Please can we talk about queen Susie?)

That's it for now. Give me your thoughts.

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