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the-saltiest-saltine · 3 months

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Reservations and Repose

(Yan!Chrollo x Fem Reader)

@sukunasfavoritehole hopefully this is enough to tide you over until my ao3 finally gets an update hehe

Word count: ~7.3k

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You’re naïve enough to believe Chrollo’s asleep. He loves that about you.

Warnings: NOT SFW, non -con thigh fucking, somnophilia, drugging, imagined not sfw scenarios etc

a/n: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG IT WAS 3/4 FINISHED THEN I FORGOT ABOUT IT my sincerest apologies.

Also this is my first time writing smut so please go easy on me 😥

Chrollo is very disappointed in you.

You let him kiss your cheek this morning following a deep sleep. You didn’t reciprocate, though he continues to see your progress and knows that an ever-hopeful yet can be added to the end of that statement. To some extent, the allowance of such an act could be chalked up to his acceptance of you, flaws and all, willing to appreciate the neutrality of it as opposed to ardent rejection. In a matter of weeks, you’ll be returning the gesture. And in a matter of months, you’ll be doing it gladly. Warmth, or perhaps weariness, has slowly but surely seeped its way into your actions recently, your shaky hands finding a place in his, fingers interlaced.

Is that to say he was under the impression that you’d completely given yourself to him? Absolutely not. There’s fear in your smiles, as much as they may have metamorphosed from obviously and mockingly forced to meek and endearing. Chrollo has shown you all that you know he can do. This has been enough to keep you relatively restrained over the months. If he showed you all that he knows he can do, you’d most likely curl up into a ball and sob until you dried out. That’s not necessary, though. It’ll never be.

Like many things, it wasn’t linear. It was a path that went upwards and downwards and forwards and backwards and in cycles, cycles that would always leave you curled up, sobbing in his arms, grasping onto him for whatever comfort it would give. But progress is progress, right?

Ignorantly, he began to believe the crumbs of affection, of acceptance, of acquiescence. Stupidly, he thought you were making progress. It’s been a significant amount of time since he was last this naïve. If he wasn’t so disgruntled by your transgression, he’d most likely bask in the nostalgic feeling. But he can’t, for the time being, because you’re trying to do something very rash.

As unfortunate as it is, you’re trying to leave him.

It’s audacious, having thought that the monumental power difference between you two had been thoroughly demonstrated on multiple occasions, a well established and silently acknowledged fact of your travels with him.

It’s irritating, although regarded with the same irritation as one would have with a pet goldfish trying to jump out of its tank. You silly thing, why do you want to abandon the place in which you are safe?

It doesn’t particularly make sense, though. He’s checked his cards - nothing suspicious has been bought in his name. No travel tickets or prepaid car hire. He’s even checked the jewellery collection - maybe you’d snatched up a nice necklace or bracelet or pair of diamond earrings to pawn off. But again, nothing. No suspicious bags have been packed. No loose tiles or floorboards or ceiling panels to hide supplies in. Your clothes are all neatly folded and hung in your wardrobe.

You’ve got something up your sleeve- something desperate and jittery and not fully thought out. Something that relies on luck and prayers far more than precision and blow-by-blow planning. He never particularly took you for a daredevil, but to see you get pushed to such a limit, to be forced against your own timid nature, is beyond satisfying. If he could pluck it out of you and analyse it under a microscope, he’d be elated. Or perhaps even, he supposes to himself, he’d be so fulfilled that he might abandon the current pathway of his life, aimless and bloody and cyclical, finally so consumed with his obsession over you that nothing else is valued in the slightest.

He can’t say he didn’t expect an ulterior motive for your apparent benevolence, at least initially, but for it to be kept up for this long? The stares felt almost too natural. The gradual lessening of your flinches when he placed a hand on your shoulder, the way your gaze would be drawn to him rather than away, even if only to flick away immediately - the subtleties were downright impressive. To be able to track everything simultaneously, to be able to remember to exhibit so many behaviours at once…Perhaps he should be taking acting lessons from you.

Chrollo had watched you, humming a pop tune this morning, cheekily shaking your hips from side to side as you fried some eggs, over easy, the notes sometimes interrupted with a sharp inhale between your teeth when the oil spat just a bit too high and would burn you ever-so-slightly. A domestic sight.

You’d let him give you another kiss on the cheek before he shrugged his coat on, giving you one last lingering glance before he’d walked out the door and into the hallway of the apartment, locking it with warm Nen made of comfort rather than capture. He gave you another cheek kiss (despite his ever-growing urge to dip lower) when he got home to the smell of spices and vegetables and the bubbling sound of a low simmer. You don’t fight them anymore, and barely even recoil now, a result of steady but slight crossing of boundaries - his record was eleven times in one day (at least, his record for when you were conscious) when he was feeling particularly affectionate, although you’d definitely soured up by the end.

The…fantasies he’d had of domesticity…they were just that, weren’t they? Fantasies, mere ideas that were appealing enough to fully flesh out in his mind. Whatever actions you’ve taken, whether it be pecks to the cheek or folding his shirts, staining them with the scent of you, they’ve all been a means to an end. That certainly wasn’t part of the fantasy.

You’ve been buttering him up like the thick slices of white bread next to his bowl. What a betrayal.

Tonight’s stew is spicy and chunky, served courteously by you. His palate is experienced from an adulthood of travel, wealth, and nights spent with gullible women who couldn’t tell the difference between a Prince Charming and a swindler. Truly, there is little he hasn’t at least tried. Including this.

So, if there’s no other signs of you wanting to leave the comfort of the apartment and the familiarity of his presence, then what could’ve possibly cued him into your motives?

It’s something tenuous, something that could’ve gone unnoticed to anyone else. It’s something subtle, buried under layers of rosemary and thyme and paprika. But diphenhydramine is such an acquired taste. And it’s one that’s made the past few weeks and months crumble to dust.

Oh, you sweet thing.

Acting as oblivious as ever, he spoons chunks of zucchini and carrot onto the bread, taking large bites, chewing and swallowing with purpose, the taste of the sedative lingering. He considers smacking his lips for good measure, to play around with you a bit, but eventually decides against it. That’ll come later.

You sit across from him, silence between you two. Normally, he’d fill it with tales from his busy day - but you’ve been so good lately, that he’s begun to refrain from doing that. Nowadays, he asks you what you’ve been up to, every painstaking detail from your dull days without him. But that’s only if you’ve been good, or at least if he’s under the impression that you’ve been good. As it turns out, you haven’t been good, you aren’t being compliant, and now he simply waits.

You stare into your bowl of stew, but he can tell you’re watching him in your periphery. It’s so very fascinating, the way you absorb each mouthful he takes, washed down with frequent sips of water (there’s no other substances in that, obviously). He takes another swill of the liquid, tilting his head slightly back, and in the corner of his eye, he can see the way you observe his Adam's apple bobbing with each gulp. Does it appease you, the sight? Does it intrigue you? Does it make you, even for a moment, reconsider what you’re about to do?

Chrollo pauses for a moment, before placing the half-empty glass back onto its coaster. He knows the smirk that comes onto his face is nothing short of wicked, but he truly can’t help himself.

“Are you not hungry, my love? You’ve barely touched your food.”

Barely is an understatement. You haven’t touched it at all, in fact. Stupid, really. He knows that you know that he’s observant - but that information is irrelevant in this situation, considering it doesn’t take an keen eye to figure out your pattern of stirring your spoon around, picking up some carrot - even blowing on it for good measure - and nodding along with what few words he spoke initially, before giving an mhm! of agreement and letting it drop back into the bowl. You spend extensive amounts of time apparently fishing for just the right piece of zucchini, sorting through copious amounts of lentils (and seemingly taking the time to individually count them all), dragging chunks up the side of your bowl only to push them back down into the fray of assorted vegetables.

There’s almost a sort of jump in response to the words, ringing clear and well projected. But it’s contained above the shoulders - your head snaps to look at him, your eyes widening momentarily, staring into his own, trapped.

He can feel the shaky breath you take to steady yourself from over here, air stagnant and mouth dry.

“No,” you reply, “not particularly.”

He cocks an eyebrow at that, mouthing an oh before returning to his meal. It doesn’t matter whether you take the bait or not, his suspicions have long since been confirmed. Confirmed, in the sternest sense of the word, syllables enunciated with force, the knowledge of your true intentions well recognised. Whether that displays on his face or within his interactions with you is inconsequential to the known ending of your silly stunt.

The sound of you chewing is enough to bring his attention back out of the bowl. That’s not fake.

So you’re eating it too? It’s certainly a bold move, but one he wouldn’t dare put past you anymore. You were always a clever one, one to be placed a mere few tiers below his own intellect.

He hasn’t caught you swapping the bowl out for a fresh one. Maybe you’ve mastered the art so quickly that even he can’t notice?

No, not likely. Not in just a few months. That’d be impossible.

Your bites of pumpkin are preceded with the slightest hesitation, a quick breath to presumably psych yourself up to the self-sabotage. He hates to see you so scared when you’re properly sharing a meal with him like this, deciding to return to normalcy as a reward for your cooperation.

“Tell me, darling, what did you get up to today?”

Your eyes flick to his, momentarily ensnared in the grey, before looking up at the ceiling to aid in the process of giving a verbal description of what you read, how you cleaned, how you entertained yourself with rearranging your meagre book collection (not his, that would be asking for trouble). The response is practically identical to every other time he’s asked the question, plain and unindulgent. It’s boring, he thinks, even with the unacknowledged omission of the hours you spend staring at the walls and pacing around the living area. He’s tempted to pry into how you decided on tonight’s dish, but decides against it. Not for lenience or mercy, but rather amusement. To give away what he knows now would simply be a waste of a situation you’ll never attempt to put yourself in again.

If you knew what Chrollo knew, would you still bother to indulge him?

You stare at him for a moment, allowing him to draw things out, before nodding at the I see he gives in response. He gives a forward nod to your bowl, giving you gracious permission to eat again after starving you for the length of your interrogation, merciful as ever. Your fear is better contained behind a split second’s confusion before you register the nonverbal instruction, picking up your spoon once more and eating with more confidence this time, taking exaggerated bites of zucchini that barely make it past your teeth, chewed excessively into grey paste before being swallowed. Maybe you reason that if you chew enough, you can break the drug down into something that won’t knock you out. A cute thought.

The spices stain your lips an enticing red, the chilli making them plump up so deliciously. If he kissed them, would they burn him? Would the capsaicin leave his lips tingling, a reminder of your soft touch?

He likes to think he’ll know the answer soon.

Chrollo feigns sleepiness, furrowing his brows in mock confusion as he tells you that he can’t quite keep his eyes open - perhaps he overdid it at work today.

Yes, work, as he loves to call it, like there’s the possibility of him spending his time away from you at a desk, punching in numbers on a computer, monotonous and repetitive and damn, couldn’t things just switch up for a day? Work, as in a beer-bellied husband whose idea of experimental fashion is changing which tie he wears with the same white button-up and black dress pants each day. Work, as in an assembly line employee who wakes up at three o’clock to be at the factory by four, ready and willing to make whatever sacrifices necessary to support his loved ones. Work, as in something at least vaguely respectable.

Work, as in literally anything other than stealing and slaughtering and scourging.

Chrollo relishes in the way your shoulders relax a little. It’s almost too adorable. Chrollo also relishes in the way they tense up again when he adds how it’s suspicious really. I don’t believe I’ve ever felt a tiredness such as this.

There’s an underlying anxiety in your pretty, pluckable, ever-so-slightly bloodshot eyes. Where others would be concerned for your health, he finds endearment, you precious thing. After admiring them silently for a moment, he announces that he’ll be off to bed now, darling. Remember to be there for me when I wake.

He leaves you alone in the kitchen to stew in your unease.

____________

Now he’s lying in bed, on the side closest to the door, limp as anything. It doesn’t matter whether his facade convinces you or not, he’ll have you in his arms by morning. The blinds aren’t fully down, leaving a pleasant blue hue that gives him a good visual of most of the room. Your side of the bed is still firmly tucked in from when he made it this morning, after running his hands up and down your arms until you’d given a great shudder and shoved him away - a pitiful attempt that he’d impishly gone along with.

Anticipation tickles his nose and prods at his heart. Childishly, he wants you to get over with it already, to sprint in, swinging a knife wildly, or cue him to start the chase with a slam of the front door so violent that the hinges threaten to crack. It’s unfortunate how your faux compliance conditioned him to be unable to accept a halt, or even slowing, of progress.

Ah, some solace - he can hear your footsteps come up to the door, attempting, albeit poorly, to be quiet. Or maybe they are quiet, to the average man, but someone well-versed in the art of stealth can practically see the way you tiptoe closer. The faint sounds paint a detailed visualisation of your movements - the balls of your feet lifting from the ground, the flexing of your toes, the dorsiflexion at your ankles, the soft thud of your heels hitting the ground.

The bedroom door creaks open, a thin streak of light hitting his eyelids, making him see an ever-so-slight orange behind them. He might be able to visualise your walk accurately, but the same cannot be said for your face. Are you fearful, lips downturned and eyes wide? Are you determined yet cautious, eyes narrowed and lips pressed into a thin line? Are you smug? Condescending? Grinning from ear-to-ear, excited to finally have what you believe to be freedom?

You’re not, he discerns.

Instead, you huff a sigh, a sweet note that makes his heart jump, a small flutter that could only be instigated by you. It’s a sigh of relief. The door is shut. He expects another door to be slammed, too - the front door, hinges quaking as you sprint to the stairs as far as you can, too scared to wait for the elevator (and for your sake, he hopes you’ve brought a pair of running shoes - you’re on the 35th floor, after all). But that doesn’t happen.

Instead, he can hear the clanking of bowls and dishes, the smooth schwip as you push breadcrumbs off the chopping board into the bin with the back of the serrated-edge knife, and how you place said knife into the block without taking another one out.

So you’ve decided against stabbing him tonight? How agreeable.

In fact there seems to be no malice in the way you’re stacking the bowls, no scraps of extra force in how you shut the fridge. Whilst the sounds of your cleanup are nothing short of a ruckus to his alert ears, there’s an intentional tenderness he can hear. A conscious effort to be as quiet as possible with somebody sleeping peacefully in the next room.

It’s a gesture he’ll interpret in the best way he can. Even if he knows he’s deluding himself that you want to be quiet for his own peace rather than so you can escape, he’ll be sure to bring up the former as reasoning for your actions over the next few days, regardless of how you’ll spit venom at him, hissing that he couldn’t be more wrong.

Next is a movement he didn’t expect in the slightest.

You come back to the bedroom, with a pile of fabric in your hands - clothes, maybe? He thought you’d be off and away as soon as possible, or you wouldn’t get close to him again at the very least, standing patiently by the door until whatever you’re waiting for had occurred.

The quiet-ish footsteps make their way past him this time, and straight into the ensuite.

There’s the soft sound of clothes falling, and then the tap is turned on.

You’re…showering before you leave?

You really are a good teacher of the quirks of humanity. Logical as ever, he’d most certainly take no time for hygiene practices if it reduced his chances of being able to go on a small, liberating adventure. But perhaps that’s part of the plan? Do you not want to have a speck of dirt on you so you don’t smell bad? Will you hide out at a fancy gala, and have to be as fresh as possible? Are you trying to wash off Nen, perhaps?

No, that would never work, and he’s certain you know this too. Still, the idea of a little hopeless fire in you, taking a precaution you know is futile, makes his lips twitch.

So many questions, few of them answerable at present. His mind is stimulated so wondrously, for once not finding boredom in the predictability of human behaviour. He’s truly chosen well.

And then there’s something else, rising above the sound of the rushing water, above the drain gurgling it down, greedily gulping it away.

You’re humming.

It’s relatively random, most likely improvised, and slightly off-tune, but endearing all the same. He can taste the notes, sweet and soothing, running down his throat smoothly and pooling warmth in his belly.

You heave a sigh, and the tune changes. And then he recognises it.

It’s something he heard as a boy, back in Meteor City. He’d hear it at night, walking back to whatever semblance of a refuge he had with Franklin and Shalnark, past the hamlets of the younger children. Letting himself get lost in it, he can feel himself crawling to shelter on scraped knees, walking on calloused heels, eating stale bread, all accompanied by the faint smell of garbage, a smell that years of exposure had waned to a neutral accompaniment of the setting, rather than an inconvenience or hazard.

Despite the unhygienic nature of it all, it’s sweet. It’s these memories - memories of grime and rot and infection - that are the most pure. The most uncorrupted. They’re full of innocence and hope - just like you.

These qualities make you think you’ll leave him.

Upon remembering this, he’s tempted to barge in and ruin your peace, eager to hear your inevitable yelp and nervous laugh as he quizzes you about tonight’s events. But he doesn’t. Your lullaby is too enjoyable, the tune far too agreeable to stomp out yet. Resisting sin by committing another, he decides he doesn’t want to kill this mockingbird, if only to selfishly continue to hear it sing.

Few moments have come like this since you came to be with him. They’re all short-lived in comparison to the cold life he’s had, a firecracker popping on his tongue, fleetingly filling his mouth with syrupy sweetness before quickly dying off, barely an aftertaste to be savoured. He’s scratched them all down in an old leather journal with a quill and ink, lest he forgets what it feels like, or how to get that feeling again, but thankfully they’re scratched even deeper into his psyche.

You’d been agreeable enough for a reward of a dinner somewhere several stories up, city lights shining behind you, framing your hair beautifully. You were reluctant at first, turning your nose up at him and the priceless food in front of you, opting for the bottle of red wine instead. It wasn’t supposed to be gulped down with such vulgarity like that, but that was part of your charm and by your second glass you were giggling and halfway through your third you looked at him right in the eye, cheeks tinged pink, and you smiled a smile that you’d forget by morning but he wouldn’t…

He’d returned to the villa after a long day to find the fans blasting, and you slumped over on the couch as credits rolled on the screen in front of you. He’d flicked the TV off, not before noting the rom-com’s name, and regarded you, with your deep, even breaths and singlet strap falling down. He picked you up and carried you to bed, laying you down on the thin blankets, fixing your strap despite the small voice that called to him to take off the thing entirely. Your head rested on the pillow, your face not scowling for once, and you’d huffed the sweetest of sighs…

That’s the kind of moment this is.

There’s no thought of what he’ll be doing with the troupe tomorrow, or in a week, or what move to make next depending on what you decide to do. Every nook and cranny of his mind, every convolution of his brain is filled with the thought of you. Tonight, it’s warm and viscous, slowing time and cutting both of you off from the rest of the world; the rest of its filth.

In this moment, he can see himself in the shower with you. He’s across from you, lathering body wash onto his shoulders, letting the foam run down his back. All the while, he keeps his gaze on you, watching how your hands run over your body, soap running along your sternum, between your breasts, along the curve of your hips, your ass, all whilst you hum that tune… shit, he can’t let himself get hard now. He manages to drag himself out of the daydream, barely, just managing to claw himself to the surface of reality.

Caps are popped open and the lathering of soaps can be heard over the course of your performance, with a finale of the tap being turned off. There’s a fumbling of fabrics before you come out, followed by yet another move he doesn’t expect.

You walk up to the bed, peel the sheets back, and lie down beside him. You then roll onto your side, facing him. After a few moments, you prop yourself up onto your elbow.

A moment of nothing. You’re frozen, as is he. Calm before the storm, he prepares himself to catch your wrist and hear you shriek.

You lean over.

And then there’s a featherlight sensation on his forehead, right in the middle of his tattoo.

Had it been a split second later, he would’ve opened his eyes and turned to face you with a smirk as you screamed. But it’s not a split second later, it’s now, and now you’re kissing him. There’s no real benefit for doing such a thing that he can identify right now - perhaps you know he’s awake, and would like to make amends? Surely you know that that wouldn’t be enough to satisfy him.

The contact sends an electric zap to every corner of his body, although he manages to not make himself jolt. Months of stifled desire bubble up from his insides, desire that’s spent so long smothered by rationale of better outcomes and forcing himself to think of his bloodied obstacles and late nights alone in the shower. As often as his lips find their way to your forehead, unfortunately the reverse doesn’t occur even half as much.

You pull away, like you’re hesitant about what you’ve done, like you’re waiting for him to snap his eyes open and sit up with inhuman speed, ready to pin you down or tie you up or even slap you for tonight’s inconveniences. But that doesn’t make sense, because hesitation is supposed to occur before such an intrepid act, not afterward.

After receiving apparent confirmation that you’re not about to be attacked, he can sense your head slowly but surely coming to rest on your pillow. You shouldn’t strain your neck like that, someone like you could get hurt over time.

The back of his shirt is peeled up, slowly, delicately, and he has to focus to keep his breathing even.

There you lie, staring at the twelve-legged spider etched into his skin, his number a pale contrast to the black ink, practically jumping out at you.

It’s your reminder, he supposes, of what he is. Theoretically and legally nonexistent, practically traceless. Zero evidence. Zero remorse. Zero morality.

Zero.

Then-

One, two, three.

Your lips mark a trail up his spine, at the bottom of the abdomen, right in the middle of the zero, on its head. Don’t shudder.

Once your deed is done, you pull back. There you lie, staring at the twelve-legged spider etched into his skin, so silent that you’re barely breathing.

The fabric of his nightshirt is guided back down. You roll over and proceed to go limp, succumbing to the drugs intended for him.

What was that?

You’re not touching him anymore. He can sense the gap between your bodies, one that he would close every night, pulling you close.

Was it a relief? To go to sleep without him touching you?

You’d always stirred up such a fuss about his arms being around you as you slept.

It had always been a cause for seething rage on your part, later argument, later whining, and more recently huffing. Even last night, the stiffness before you fell asleep was a cause of his own discomfort. But you didn’t have to deal with that tonight, and now you’ve fallen asleep in record time. He can’t say it was just from the pills.

Did you change your mind on leaving after you felt their effects? It doesn’t seem likely that you’d ditch all that to sleep. Rather, that you wanted to sleep on your own terms.

He’d spent so much time concerned with stopping a potential escape, that he didn’t stop to consider that maybe, just maybe, that was never the goal to begin with.

And now Chrollo rolls over to face you, gently tugging on your shoulder to pull you onto your back.

You’re serene as ever, a sight to behold.

He brushes the back of his knuckles along your hair, feeling its texture, so light that his calloused hands - hands that have seen many a bruise and burn and slice and hangnail caught and ripped on the job - almost can’t feel it. Your exhales come out more as huffs and sighs now compared to gentle breathing, and he allows a chuckle (one that he finds incredibly endearing, as much as you’ve let your disagreement to that sentiment be known, preferring to describe it with wounding words such as “condescending” and “grating”) to slip past his lips.

It reminds him of you when you’re awake, when you used to try so hard to be difficult for him, when you used to scream and scratch as he’d spoon you, grip ironclad, until all you could do was huff and puff and plead with him (and as much as he enjoyed your attempts to compromise, this was something he simply could not relinquish) and eventually, your cursing would die down, your muscles would go limp, and you’d fall asleep.

Sometimes the sun would be up by the time you relented, and your breaths would be the heaviest then. It was amusing, how quickly you’d switch. One second, you were cussing him and his troupe out, the next, you were a paragon of tranquillity, the visage of an angel before him. He’d pray you love him.

He wants to grab your jaw, hold it firm, and kiss your lips as hard as he can. He wants to tilt his head and take and take and take. He wants to keep taking even if your breathing lightens. He wants to keep taking even if your eyelids flutter open, hazy doe-eyes looking at him with dozy confusion.

Well, he’d never deny his own indulgence.

Leaning in, he presses a kiss to your forehead, just as you did to him.

The touch is as gentle as he can make it, as gentle as he can permit himself to be. There’s a split second of what he could almost call fear, an image of accidentally squeezing you too hard and hearing your bones snap flashing in his mind.

He rubs his thumb over where his lips previously were, feeling an unanticipated wetness left behind.

It’s then that Chrollo realises his mouth is full of his own saliva - whether that was because he was so entranced by your actions that nothing else mattered, body as limp as he could allow, or because, like some sort of filthy animal, he couldn’t help but drool at the contact from you, starved for it like a hyena, he doesn’t know. He swallows. That’s better.

And now for the main event.

He dips down to your lips, and lightly presses his own against them. The feeling is so heavenly, he wonders if you really are an angel. If you were one, would you bless him? Would you destroy him?

If you were to know what he’s doing, would you hate him more?

He pulls away.

The journey to get here was sizable. Memories of tonight flash by; your cooking, your conversation, your shower. Your humming.

Ah. The tune he heard as a boy. Innocent, naïve, hopeful.

Well, he’s a man now. And far less innocent.

He lets out a hum of his own, deep and rumbling.

Chrollo moves to straddle you, peeling the duvet and sheets back, layer by layer, unveiling the best present he’s ever gifted himself. Just moving into such an intimate position is enough to send pangs of heat downwards, the hardness he fought against earlier returning with an urgency.

For a moment, he tries to fight against it.

Is it to save himself from your hatred? Is it to save you from what he’s planning?

It’s neither, he discerns, as the attempt was doomed to fail before it even started. He knows it was never meant to succeed.

His groin only throbs harder, aching for friction. It’s a spur-of-the-moment thing, the way he presses it against your clothed crotch, rocking back and forth, the slight relief just momentary as his desire only grows.

He regards your unsuspecting face. Stunning.

Restraint is draining faster now, but still is present just enough to stop him from grinding any harder despite the urge. But if he’s to stop his movements, he’ll need a different kind of stimulation.

He bunches your shirt up, pulling, sliding a hand under your back so he can slip it off your arms and neck.

Now your chest is bare. How ravishing.

His fingers hook under the band of your sleep pants, dragging them off in a clean motion.

And now your legs are bare. How alluring.

He doesn’t take your underwear off - that would simply be crude, and he doesn’t need to tempt himself anymore. If he got the privilege (or right, considering your standings) of seeing you fully nude, as opposed to having a single layer covering the most tantalising part of you, he’d be oh-so-inclined to do something regrettable. His logic fights to win space within his buzzing thoughts, fingers daring to twitch as his imagination fills in the gaps of what the thin black layer forces to be left to it.

Chrollo parts your thighs for good measure, the maximum he can allow himself at this moment. It’d be impossible to not let his hands and gaze trail up them, observing how as he roams upwards, your flesh gets softer, warmer; how the flimsy fabric can’t hide all of your darker flesh; how your lower lips are pressing against the cloth, visible despite the darkness…

God, you’re so fuckable.

There’s a pretentious voice in his head, albeit muffled, that cries protests at the use of such a word to describe you. You’re something far more than that - beautiful, exemplary, one-in-a-million, ethereal. Surely your mouth would be better put to use having a fulfilling conversation with him, a conversation he can dissect and steer and puppeteer, as opposed to just opening as wide as it can to accommodate his cock, taking it as deep as your gag reflex will allow, barely able to breathe, much less talk. Although, he thinks with a faint, deep groan, twitching in his pants, that’s certainly a hypothesis I’ll have to test.

With the sight of your breasts, nipples hard and skin goosebumped from the chill of the room, it’s decided. Just because making his cheeks warm and his cock rock hard isn’t your most prominent trait, doesn’t mean that you aren’t absolutely exceptional at it.

Temptation isn’t something he’s inclined to resist, brushing a thumb over your nipples before leaning down to take one into his mouth. He swears he can hear your breath hitch as his tongue swirls around, breathing getting slightly lighter. An eager hand reaches for the other one, kneading as gently as he thinks he can.

Soft is the first thing he thinks. Your flesh is so soft, so delicate, so tender. If you were awake, he’d vocalise his compliments - and do so loudly, unrestrained.

Your breathing changes as he points his tongue to lightly flick at your nipple repeatedly. Chances are you’re being taken out of REM sleep, but your consciousness doesn’t matter at this stage. And some part of him hopes for it, brief images flashing in his mind of barely-open teary eyes slowly rolling to the back of your head. They’re obscene, so utterly immoral to even fantasise about, yet even the split-second thought makes his stomach jump, shivering a bit as he feels himself be almost overcome by them.

He can’t help but slightly wet his lips in anticipation, relishing in the knowledge that his instincts are being held back with the slightest thread. If he moves even slightly faster than his rational, calculating, non-carnal mind intends, then it’ll snap. He’ll snap.

Almost trembling, he reaches across to his bedside table. The movements are imprecise, but he’s sure this practice will allow him to execute them with much more grace for the inevitable time you’ll be awake. Yes, you’ll be awake and whining and he’ll wet his lips in anticipation and be met with your lingering taste and you’ll want him as much as he wants you-

He almost falls forward as his own lust threatens to overtake him. Focus on the necessary steps.

Taking a shuddering breath, he leans down to pull open the drawer, to find a bottle hidden at the back, purposefully concealed behind an upright copy of Tess of the D’Urbervilles. Quickly shifting his weight back, he pops the cap open, spreading some of the slick contents onto his fingertips. With his free hand, he pulls down the loose elastic of his pyjama pants, shucking them off, the cold air making him quiver slightly.

Time’s running out.

The movements are trembling, sloppy as he pours lube onto his length, and then onto your spread thighs. There’s a frantic inertia of sorts, a mad momentum - the more he does, the faster he has to go, the anticipation making his stomach swell and dip. He’s really going to do this. It’s really going to happen, and it’ll be amazing.

There. Done. Everything’s ready.

Chrollo takes a shaky breath, gripping just above your knees, and squeezes your thighs around his dick.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Your thighs are warm from the duvet, perfectly cosy and wet from the lube for his cock.

Little time is wasted as he begins to thrust his hips, trying not to give himself too much too soon. The steady pace is slowly increased, little by little, a fragile incline so he can drag this out for as long as possible.

Can you feel it? Can you feel the warmth radiating from him? Is there some part of your mind that’s awake, but can’t do anything to stop him? Or better yet, is eager to please him?

He strains out a hiss through gritted teeth, peppering kisses over your exposed neck, trying his best not to bite. The pace increases yet again. His eyes are fixated on the mound in your underwear, a more sinister form of curiosity burning within.

What does your pussy look like?

He won’t use En, that’s just cheating. He wonders and ponders and conjures up the most filthy images his mind can muster. A warm, tight hole that clenches for him as he slips in and out, teasing you. A pretty clit for him to tease with his fingers as you whine, for him to suckle on as you choke on sobs of pleasure. Folds for him to run his tongue through as you rut your hips against his face; for him to run his tip along, collecting your slick.

He imagines how his cock would look disappearing inside of your cunt, how your grip would be so suffocating, how your tits would bounce as he fucks it (because shit, they’re already moving so vigorously now, as he holds his strength, and he can’t even begin to picture what they’d look like if he loses control buried deep inside you, repeatedly stuffing you to the hilt as you cry out). He imagines how you’d tighten around him, babbling something incoherent as you wrap your arms and legs around him, and oh fuck, he can’t pull out now. He imagines the tension snapping, giving a rumbling groan as he shoves himself into you as deeply as possible, eyes screwing shut and burying his face in the junction between your neck and shoulder, riding out his high with a few shallow thrusts.

And finally, he imagines how his cum would look leaking out of your pussy, twitching and swollen from a nice good fuck. The afterglow. The squeak you’d give if he fingered it back into you, growling at you to not waste a drop, keep it all inside for me.

The thought makes his hips stutter a little, threatening to slip out of the plushness between your thighs. Once he regains his rhythm, though, they’re speeding up, relentlessly fucking himself into your thighs over and over, kneading the flesh as he squeezes them tighter and closer.

Chrollo cups your face with a single hand, and leans in.

It’s the second time he’s properly kissed you tonight, and it feels fucking amazing. Your soft lips, your soft thighs, they’re all working together to make his head swim in bliss. You’re working to make him feel good. Yes, him. Nobody else. You’re his.

The thoughts run wild. He has as little control over them as he does his hips.

How would it feel to fuck you in some other position? How would it feel to flip you onto your stomach, pulling your hips back to meet his, as he stuffs himself into your sopping cunt over and over, watching your ass bounce? How would you cry out at the way his balls slap against your swollen clit, building up the pressure inside you until you just can’t take any more?

How would you grind on top of him? How would you moan as you bounce, tilting your head back as you stretch yourself on his length, panting? How many times could you do it until your legs trembled uncontrollably, forcing yourself to impale yourself on his cock just one more time? When he’d plant his feet on the bed firmly and thrust his hips up, grabbing yours and bouncing you in time, would you wail, or simply slump over, completely unable to form a thought as you cum around him for the nth time?

You’re flexible enough to fold into a mating press, right? How deep could he go? How fast could he go? How would your beautiful skin look covered in love bites?

The coil of pressure within him grows even tighter even faster, balls slapping against your thighs, hips pistoning rhythmlessly.

If he asked, oh-so-nicely, for you to get on your knees and please him with your mouth, would you oh-so-sweetly do it? Would you suckle his swollen tip? Would you tease him with a glint of mischief in your eyes? Would you find his most sensitive spots and exploit them? Would you trace your tongue along the veins? Would you massage his balls? Would you let him control the pace, a hand intertwined in your hair? Would you look up at him as you tear up, doe-eyes wide and eager to please? Would you rub your pretty pussy while he shoots thick ropes of cum down your throat, pressing your nose against his pelvis?

Yes, he decides as the coil begins to snap, you would.

Chrollo comes to a sudden halt, choking out a rich groan in a low timbre. The noise becomes more strained as he rides out the high, the overwhelming euphoria becoming just a bit too intense as it begins to morph into overstimulation. Once he’s sure the moment’s over, he lets go of your legs, pulling back to catch his breath and admire his work.

Ropes of cum paint your chest, some making it as far as your neck, your chin. It’s beautiful, the unruly mess he’s made - no, the mess you’ve made of him.

You’re a real beauty, you know that?

The bathroom tiles are cold against his feet as he grabs a washcloth to clean you up. It’s sad to see it go, to a primal extent, but it’s probably for the best to ensure he doesn’t get any ideas for a second round tonight.

For future nights, though? The chest he’s covering up will soon be exposed soon enough.

He’ll have to get more sleeping pills. You simply must try this again soon.

Next time, he’ll taste you. The time after that, you’ll taste him. He can hardly wait, nor can he stop the dull throbbing starting up in his groin again.

He sates himself for the time being with the knowledge that the time after that, you’ll be awake.

#chrollo #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo lucifer #chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo lucilfer #yandere chrollo x reader #yandere hxh #hxh #hxh x reader #yandere hxh x reader #tw yandere

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jinnie-ret · 7 months

Note

Could you write about a 9th member reader who is trained to do cool stunt work so on stages or for mv filming they're in what looks like a dangerous situation so skz panic not knowing that the reader is trained and perfectly safe?

daredevil

stray kids x ninth member!reader

genre: fluff

content warnings: none

word count: 1k

summary: the boys never expected that their shy noona could be such a daredevil

Thank you so much for this request!!! Sorry it's taken me long but I hope you enjoy it!

As always, like, reblog if you enjoyed, and my asks are open for any requests you may have. And let me know if you'd like to be tagged when I post :)

MAIN MASTERLIST

Stray Kids had spent all day filming the music video for Cheese, and you were wondering how the boys would react to you filming your solo parts this evening. You see, they didn't know about your other talents that laid outside of working in the music industry. As soon as you could, you had gained your license to be able to ride a motorcycle, inspired by your mum and dad who could also ride them - it was how they met.

With your normal shy and quiet personality, the boys affectionately looked after you, you could say. Even though you were the same age as Minho. This could have been what prompted and inspired the staff to get the 98 liners to film with the motorbike. Minho was up first, looking cool as usual.

"Let's go Minho hyung!" Jisung cheered from the sidelines, as you all watched him pose and mouth his lyrics in the car park like scene.

"Wahhh, hyung looks so cool," Jeongin nodded and clapped a bit, as Minho broke out into a shy smile after finishing, a real contrast.

"Wait, so noona is going up next?" Felix asked curiously.

"Yeah, they wanted me and Minho to film similar scenes," you smiled, scratching the back of you neck bashfully.

A staff member came over with a helmet for you.

"Aw noona is going to be wearing a helmet?" Changbin patted your head with the helmet now on.

"It's too big for her," Hyunjin laughed, as you cutely shook your head with the helmet bobbing around. Because of this the staff gave you the helmet you normally wear, which the boyd assumed was customised by the stylists rather than you, who had painted cute flower stickers on it.

"Why is it so cute?" Seungmin laughed, looking down at you, as you smiled shyly and headed over to the motorbike.

The staff directed you to pretend you were riding it, knowing fully well that you could. You had to let the company know that you had gotten a license. But it never really came up into conversation with the boys, and you weren't really one to talk about yourself, maybe that was another similarity you shared with Minho.

The camera followed you as you revved up the engine and started driving down the car park, the boys letting out yells and gasps of worry. You let out a cheer as you did so, which the others assumed was more of a cry for help.

"Y/Nnie noona!"

"Y/N!!"

"Someone help her stop!"

"Ah no no no!!!"

Yet you successfully stopped it and swerved with a smirk on your face as you pulled up the visor of your helmet, the staff clapping for you as you did so.

It still hadn't really sunk in to the boys that you in fact knew what you were doing. And so, they ran up to you.

"Y/Nnie, are you ok? Are you hurt?" Chan wrapped an arm around her shoulder, helping her take the helmet off and expecting to see you crying, when in fact you were laughing.

"Why are you laughing? You could have died!" Minho reprimanded, eyes glaring into your soul.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," you stopped laughing and waved off their concerns.

"How? You just... you-" Jisung malfunctioned, shocked at the sight of what you just did.

"Guys, I'm fine, I have a license for this," you shrugged it off casually, not wanting all their attention on you. But they wouldn't let you off so easily.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Hyunjin said with wide eyes, hand over his heart.

"Didn't really think there was a time to say it..." you trailed off sheepishly.

"How about when you got your license? Or when Minho was filming?" Seungmin pointed out.

"Oh yeah..." you blushed, habitually scratching the back of your neck.

"How can you act so shy after being so cool?" Felix giggled, looking at your slightly hunched figure sat on the motorbike.

"Super shu, super shy!" Changbin burst out into dong, making everyone else laugh at him, Jisung whacking his shoulder.

"Noona you have to teach me!" Jeongin joyfully said, everyone immediately going 'no!'.

"Well I could-" you began to say.

"No! Don't corrupt our maknae!" Jisung playfully restrained Jeongin, dragging him slightly away from you.

"Hey, I'd be a good teacher!" you pout, folding your arms as you took off your helmet.

"I don't doubt that, Y/Nnie," Chan affectionately patted your head, smoothing out your hair that had become ruffled.

"I can't believe our noona can ride a motorbike!" Hyunjin shook his head, still not believing it.

"Nobody would believe it if we told them!" Seungmin agreed.

"I can't believe you showed me up like that. I just sat on the motorbike and you rode it!" Minho facepalmed, feeling shy.

"You looked pretty whilst doing it though," you quietly complimented him.

"Aw our noona is so sweet," Felix teased, smiling at you.

"Is Y/Nnie flirting with me?" Minho smirked.

"No no no," you waved them off shoving the helmet back on your head and hiding your face, folding your arms.

"Oh no! She's disappeared!" Changbin shouted, nearly making you fall off of the bike from the shock of him suddenly yelling.

"Hahaha, Binnie you nearly knocked out Y/Nnie noona!" Chan laughed as he caught you.

"Ok I'm taking my helmet off again," you signed, taking it off and holding a hand over your heart, much like Hyunjin was earlier.

"This really is the most unexpected thing, I still can't comprehend it," Jeongin shook his head.

"Stays are gonna be shocked too, aren't they?" you wonder.

"They won't be expecting it all, I mean we all didn't..." Jisung nodded.

After that day if filming the boys became suspicious of you, jokingly of course, asking you questions thinking you lived a secret double life, but once you explained about how your parents had licenses too, it all made sense to them, and they felt like it should have been obvious from the start, that such a shy girl was secretly a daredevil.

tagged: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @hannahhbahng

#skz #stray kids #stray kids x reader #skz fluff #skz x reader #skz angst #straykids imagines #stray kids fluff #skz fic #stray kids imagines #skz ninth imagines #skz ninth #skz ninth member imagines #skz ninth member #skz 9th member #stray kids ninth #stray kids ninth member #stray kids 9th member

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to-thelakes · 1 month

Text

exhausted

pairing; frank castle x fem!reader (mentions of matt murdock)

summary; after you lose your cool at matt and frank, frank comes to see you and helps you get some much-needed rest

warnings; initial angst, a smidge of hurt/comfort, fluff, domestic frank castle, soft frank castle, exhausted reader, insomniac reader, discussion of nightmares

notes; this one-shot is an oldie but a goodie, i keep reading back and looking at some one-shots i've previously written and i think this one is good enough that i can share it with the world, i wrote it initially with sharing it in mind so i might as well do it! also this one-shot thingie was inspired by a one-shot i saw here on tumblr, the beginning of this is pretty similar to the one i read so if anyone knows what fic i'm referencing, i'd love to be able to credit who inspired this! otherwise, this is just some comforting frank content because i am an avid insomniac and sometimes you just need the big scary punisher to help you fall asleep

masterlist

You weren’t entirely sure how it had happened but at some point between knowing Matt and Frank, you had become their nurse. Of course, you didn’t particularly mind. Matt had always been kind to you and you enjoyed his company. He was a little flirty but you were used to it and you could lament in your misery with him.

With Frank, he had saved you from some criminals months ago and you had been freaking out. He did his best to calm you down before walking you home and after a particularly bad night, Matt brought Frank to you to patch up. Honestly, you didn’t mind their company and you didn’t mind patching them up.

Ever since you’d moved on from being a Nurse, you’d refound your passion for caring for people but only if it was Frank or Matt. But you also hated taking care of them. Despite having a relatively normal life and sleep schedule compared to when you were a nurse, you were still woken up in the middle of the night by them.

It had been a quiet night for you. You’d finished work and curled up on your bed to drift off and you had. It had been a blissful sleep until you were rudely awoken by your phone ringing. You wanted to tell whoever it was to leave you the fuck alone but when you saw it was Matt, you answered. He asked if you could come over and help patch Frank and him up.

You - reluctantly - agreed since he was only a block over. You didn’t want them bloody up your apartment and so with a great huff, you got out of bed. You changed into comfortable clothes and then grabbed your kit for nights like these and headed to Matt’s place.

Getting in wasn’t hard even in your exhausted and sleepy daze. You managed to find your way up to the fire escape where the two men were sitting. Well, Frank was sat, leaning against the vent, cradling a wound while Matt stood. He was pacing in his Daredevil costume and he looked frustrated. It was practically radiating off of him.

They both looked pretty bruised and yet, they were still arguing. It took you a minute to catch on to the conversation but the second you did you sighed.

“You gotta let me do my shit, altar boy. I don’t give a shit what you can sense, I know what I’m doing and we would have been fine if you hadn’t stopped me from doing my goddamn job,” Frank raged as he stared up at Matt. His hand was pressed against the wound on his side and yet his jaw still flexed with obvious annoyance.

“If you had just listened to me then we would have been fine! You never listen, I can hear more than you can. I can hear their guns, Frank. If you had just shut your damn mouth for one goddamn second, it would have been fine!” Matt snapped in response. His annoyance was radiating off of him and you just looked between them. You weren’t entirely convinced that even of them had realised you were there but you knew Matt could smell you.

“I listen fucking plenty. I knew what I was getting my sorry ass into but you just have to be the fucking saviour, don’t you Red? Always a hero,” Frank scoffed. His tone was scathing and he winced when the pain only seemed to get worse. The irritation that Matt waking you up had began only seemed to grow as you listened to them continue to bicker back and forth about who was right and who was responsible for Frank’s wound. And why Red just couldn’t have listened to Frank for one goddamn minute.

It was probably five minutes of bickering and you had finally had enough. You dropped your kit bag onto the floor and suddenly, both of their attentions snapped to you.

“You are both so insufferable!” You snapped suddenly, glaring between the two men, “I get my ass out of bed after working all fucking day for you two to be bickering like three-year-olds over something that doesn’t fucking matter anymore. Take my shit and patch yourself up. I’m done with this.” Your anger only seemed to grow and you watched as both Matt and Frank’s face fell. You stepped back from the pair of them, “Ungrateful bastards,” You muttered as you headed back to the fire escape and towards Matt’s apartment.

“Hey(!), sweetheart,” Frank’s voice made you pause in your steps. If his next words weren’t an apology, you were going to scream, “Don’t gotta be so fucking moody. Didn’t even see ya.” That was it and you turned on your heel to face them again.

“I couldn’t give a shit if you didn’t see me Frank. I know sure as hell that Matt could smell me before I even got onto the fucking roof. And I’m sure his senses will tell him that I haven’t showered in three days because I’ve been so busy with my new fucking workload that I have barely had the chance to take care of myself. This is the first evening that I haven’t had to work late for my asshole boss and I finally managed to get some sleep until you assholes had to wake me up because you can never work together! I honestly don’t care what happens to you next time. If one of you gets bloody and bruised, don’t fucking call me. Lose my number, both of you.” And with that final word, you walked off the roof and down to Matt’s apartment. You felt like crying, the irritation had seeped into frustration and the tears were blurring your vision as you pulled the apartment door open.

“Sweetheart,” Matt’s voice was so soft as he rushed over to you in the doorway. Your head snapped up so that he could look at you or you assumed he was, you could tell where he was looking with that stupid mask on, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called,” Matt’s voice had softened significantly as he was looking at you.

“Yeah, you shouldn’t have,” You bit back. Matt’s lips turned down into a frown. He suddenly had no idea what to say. He had never seen you like this. Even when you were stressed and overworked as a nurse, you always had this sunny disposition to everything that you did. This was new, he hated it because he knew it was his fault.

“Please, how can I fix this?” Matt asked and you rolled your eyes. The apartment door still open in front of you.

“I told you, lose my number,” You snapped. Matt frowned but before he could even say anything, you were gone. He let out a frustrated huff and he listened as you walked to the elevator and disappeared down to street-level. He didn’t know what to do now.

The weekend eventually rolled around and you were relaxing for the first time in a very long time. You were curled up on the couch, watching trash TV with a pizza from your favourite take-out on the coffee table. It was the ideal day.

Well, that was until you heard a knock at your apartment door. A soft huff escaped your lips and you unfurled yourself from your cocoon of blankets to answer it. When you pulled the door open, the last person you expected stood on the other side. Your eyebrows furrowed as you took in Frank Castle in all his broad glory with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. Your favourite flowers no doubt. You didn’t even know what to say.

“Ya said don’t call,” Frank began and then he held out the flowers, “So I came over instead.” There was a slight softness to his words and it made you let out a soft chuckle. You shook your head but took the bouquet from his hands.

“Thank you,” You mumbled before gesturing for him to come in. The trashy TV show you had on was playing as you grabbed a vase from under the sink and ripped the wrapping from around the flowers. You then grabbed some scissors from the drawer and Frank watched as you snipped the ends at a diagonal and placed them into the water before adding the packet of food.

“M’sorry about the other night,” Frank said after a few beats of silence. You shrugged and rearranged the flowers and when you were happy enough with them, you took them over to the windowsill to replace the faux flowers you had put there weeks ago, “I really appreciate everything’ ya do for me,” He said as he watched you move. You shrugged and wrapped your arms around yourself, moving to sit down on your sofa. You didn’t want to have this conversation.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” You said firmly. Frank sighed and he glanced at the door, not sure whether you wanted him to leave or stay. You glanced back at him expectantly and so he walked over, sitting down on the couch beside you. You grabbed a slice of pizza and offered it to him. He found himself smiling as he took it from your hands.

“M’really sorry, I didn’t-” But before Frank could get any further you put your hand up to silence him. Then your gaze turned on him and he looked back at you.

“Frank, I seriously don’t wanna think about it. Just eat your pizza and shut up,” You told him as you reached out for another slice for yourself. He grunted in response and you seemed pleased with that. You shuffled back, pulling blankets over your shoulder with your free hand before you took a bite out of the pizza. Frank was sitting on one of the blankets on the sofa but you didn’t bother to say anything as you ate.

Your gaze was fixed on the TV. There was about to be an elimination from the show and although you didn’t care for many of the contestants, there was one guy that you wanted to get kicked out. He had the most infuriating personality and had treated every girl like an object since he had been introduced. He rubbed you the wrong way and so, you watched with bated breath to see if he would finally be kicked out.

And he was. Frank noticed the victorious grin on your face as he leaned over for another slice of pizza. You let him grab it as you finished your slice off. Then you shuffled on the sofa and adjusted the blankets around your shoulder again.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” You broke the silence between the pair of you. The sound of the TV was the only thing that was filling the air until that.

He glanced over at you before he shook his head, letting out a grunt of disagreement. You nodded and then pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulder, “I’ve had a really stressful week at work, I’ve not been sleeping well and I thought that when I quit my job at Metro General my late nights would end. That I would be able to sleep properly again. But you and Matt changed that and I don’t mind. I usually don’t mind at all but this week, I just- I couldn’t do it. I had dragged myself out of sleep which I had barely been able to get into and then you both just bickered. And I really don’t mind helping either of you. I like helping you both but I just can’t do it right now.”

You were rambling, you knew you were rambling but you felt like Frank deserved an explanation. He was injured and you had left him to be stitched up by Matt. It felt cruel but you were also exhausted. Not even by them, just by life.

“You don’t gotta explain,” Frank said after a beat. You looked up at him, he had a sorrowful look on his face. It was almost guilty-looking and you didn’t want him to feel guilty. A soft huff escaped your lips as you ran your fingers across your face.

“No, I do because I didn’t have to blow up at you guys. I didn’t have to be so rude. I could have just left but I made a scene and it wa-” Frank cut you off before you got a chance to finish your sentence.

“Ya had every right to shout. We dragged you outta bed for somethin’ that we coulda handled on our own. You were angry and shit, I woulda said worse. You can’t bottle that shit up, you know?” He responded as he looked down at you. You let out a soft sigh, running your fingers through your hair. You didn’t know what to even say.

“I’m just so tired, Frank,” You mumbled. It had been weighing on you all week and it was the first time you had let yourself admit it. You were so exhausted. You didn’t know what to do with yourself. The tension in the room seemed to increase tenfold at the submission and Frank was silently observing you as you reached for a pizza slice, hoping to distract your exhaustion-addled mind. It was too much.

“Lie down for a bit, yeah?” He said and you looked up at him, confusion etched across your features. Almost bemused by his words.

“I’ve tried that Frank. Plus, it’s too early,” You mumbled before you took a bite of your pizza. He shook his head and closed the pizza box on the coffee table. He then reached for the TV remote and he switched it off.

“Nah, enough of this shit. We’re gonna lie down and I’ll make sure you get some goddamn sleep. alright?” There was no room to argue with him and as he stood up, looming above you, you weren’t entirely sure you had the bravery to. So, you simply nodded your head. You placed the half-eaten pizza slice into the box and then got to your feet, leaving your cocoon of blankets on the sofa so you could go to bed, “You gonna brush your teeth?” He asked. You nodded your head. Even though you had just eaten, you had to make sure that they were brushed before you went to bed and so, Frank lingered in the doorway as you brushed your teeth, “Red’s gonna give you shit when he finds out about this, sweetheart,” Frank commented off-handedly. You spat some toothpaste into the sink before you glanced over at him.

“He can smell when I last showered, I think he already knows,” You muttered before you finished brushing your teeth. You grabbed the towel and washed the toothpaste off your mouth, washing your mouth out with water before you stepped back. You were already in pyjamas so you were ready for bed.

“Yeah, that’s what he tells ya,” Frank mumbled as you headed towards your bedroom. Frank slipped his boots off at the foot of your bed and discarded his jacket on top of your dresser before he glanced over at you.

“Are you sleeping in the bed too?” You asked tentatively. Frank turned to look at you, cocking an eyebrow.

“That a problem?” He asked curiously. You shook your head and he nodded, “You been gettin’ nightmares?” His question caught you completely off-guard and you just stared at him, dumb-founded from the side of your bed. He huffed out in mild amusement, “You were an ER nurse, gives its own scars,” He shrugged. You sighed and rubbed your hands across your face.

“It’s not nightmares. It’s just not dreams either. I can just hear flatlining and feel blood and I’m running down corridors, plagued by the clean smell of the hospital. It’s sterile and I wake up and I swear I can smell it,” You mumbled, trying your best to explain the experiences. You hated calling them nightmares because nothing scary happened. It was just your feelings and memories of the place you used to love.

“You wake up scared?” He asked as he walked over to the opposite side of the bed. You nodded your head, “Then it’s a nightmare. When did your dirtbag ex break up with you?” You didn’t seem to understand how that correlated but it had been only a month ago. It coincided with the exact time you began to have issues sleeping.

“A month ago. I’ve not been a nurse for months. Why is that relevant?” You asked as you decided to pull the covers back but you didn’t get in.

“You’re sleeping alone, sweetheart. Does things to you especially when you’re not used to,” He stated blankly. It seemed to dawn on you why he knew this and you just stared at him for a moment, not sure whether to apologise or offer sympathy but he didn’t give you a chance, “Now let’s get you some sleep, hm?” You smiled thankfully and slipped under the covers. Frank slipped under them beside you and you pulled them up to your shoulder.

Then you grabbed onto the pillow, adjusting it under your head. Frank was facing you, his hands resting in front of him as yours rested under your head. He watched you adjust and get comfortable before you let out a sigh.

“I always hated sleeping alone,” You mumbled after a moment of silence, “When I was a kid, my little brother would always get nightmares and so we’d sleep in the same bed. Then, by the time he had grown out of that habit, I was old enough that I was going to high school and my parents began to - reluctantly - let my partner stay over. Then, I went to college and I basically spent every night with someone in my bed whether that was a friend or someone I was dating. I never really got used to sleeping alone, I guess.” Although Frank didn’t have the exact same feeling as you as he had slept alone plenty of times while he was on tours, he understood what you meant. After he lost Maria, he found it impossible to sleep alone. The nightmares tormented him. It got better with time but never really truly better. It’s the main reason why he pushed his body to the point of collapse. Then he didn’t have to worry about trying to fall asleep alone. It just happened because his body didn’t give him a choice. You had started to do the same.

“Just try and get some sleep tonight, yeah?” He suggested. You nodded and you let your eyes fall closed. He shifted on the bed before he let his eyes close as well. You sighed and felt your eyes forcing themselves back open. They didn’t want to stay closed and after a few more minutes of desperately trying to keep them closed, you rolled onto your back.

And you stared at the ceiling like you had for so many nights over the past few months. You were never able to sleep, when you woke up from sleep, you just stared. You had memorised every crack in the shitty ceiling and now there was nothing new to look at. You didn’t know what was wrong with you but you hated it.

“Hey,” Frank said softly. It was so quiet that you almost missed it and then you turned your head to the side to look at him, “You gotta tell me what ya need if I’m gonna help,” You knew what you needed but you weren’t about to ask Frank for it. This was already crossing the bounds of your friendship and you felt almost disrespectful even doing this but he seemed insistent. His eyes were burning into the side of your head.

“My ex used to…” You trailed off, not sure whether to say it. Frank grunted in a somewhat encouraging way as he shuffled towards you, “They used to cuddle with me when I couldn’t sleep and they’d… God I can’t ask this of you.” You cut yourself off before you could finish your sentence. Your hands pressed over your face, embarrassment flooding your face in the form of heat crawling up your neck and across your cheeks. This was too much.

“Hey, hey, listen to me,” He brought your hands away from your face and you turned to look at him, meeting his soft gaze, “I don’t give a shit if it’s embarrassing, tell me.” His words were firm and you sighed, taking a deep breath before you turned over onto your side so that you could look at him properly again.

“They’d like hold me against their chest, like my forehead against their chest and then they’d run their fingers across my arm. It just always relaxed me,” You finally admitted. Frank smiled softly, not even caring what you were asking of him. Instead, he shuffled forward on the bed and brought you towards him.

“Come ‘ere,” He mumbled. You shuffled into him and with a tentative breath, you rested your forehead against his chest. One of his hands rested under his head while the other moved to rest against the back of your arm. He drew you closer and you gave in, letting your body mold against his. His fingers slowly began to trace along the skin on the back of your arm.

A soft breath of relief escaped your lips, the familiar touch cooled your nervous system in seconds. Your eyes fell closed, tension releasing at the movements as you moved your arms around Frank. Your hand draped over his hip as you felt exhaustion return to your body after you had fought it away all day.

“Thank you,” You muttered under your breath. Your voice was slower than before, sleep ready to take you as you relaxed into his hold.

“Sleep well, sweetheart,” He mumbled against your hair as he rested against you. His touch against your skin was the last thing you remembered before the bliss of sleep took you in.

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #the punisher #frank castle x you #frank castle fluff #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x female reader #the punisher fluff #the punisher x reader #reader-insert #matt murdock #daredevil

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farfromstrange · 2 months

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Lizzi’s Valentine’s Special & Follower Celebration

Dear Everyone,

Valentine’s Day is just around the corner, and I thought, since this silly little blog hit over 1.1k followers yesterday, I want to give you something special.

First of all, though, I want to thank you. I’ve been on here since (and I checked with the archive) July 19, 2022. I can't believe that it has been almost two years. I started watching Daredevil after watching Spider-Man: No Way Home in December of 2021 and hearing Matt Murdock say, "I'm a really good lawyer," after catching a brick. So, I started watching the show, and that was during a time I was really miserable. Mentally and physically, I wasn't in a good place, but after watching Daredevil for the first time and falling in love with Charlie Cox as a genuine person and an actor, it felt like I found a reason to keep going.

I started writing fanfiction again, which I kind of neglected because I felt like this hobby of mine wasn't going anywhere. I wasn't inspired at all until I watched the show. If I hadn't, I probably would not have gotten back into writing and using it as an outlet for my feelings, and I probably wouldn't be where I am today. Thanks to Charlie's portrayal of Matt Murdock, and watching his interviews, I felt like I could do the things that I love again and follow my dreams. He's the reason I chose to major in English. And while I owe him that much, I owe you guys here on Tumblr and AO3 even more.

When I first posted here, I didn't think people would even be interested in what I had to say and write. But then more and more people started visiting my profile, you guys started following me, and it kept me motivated to keep writing, even when I'm miserable, and I sometimes only post once every blue moon.

I feel so honored that you guys chose to follow a silly little blog run by a silly little 20-something-year-old whose first language isn't even English (but made it her entire personality), and who chose to write about traumatized dark-haired characters portrayed by Charlie Cox. I'm overwhelmed by the love you continue to show me, and every time one of you chooses to reblog or comment on one of my works, saying that it resonated with you, I feel like I'm doing something right. I'm sharing my ideas, my own experiences, my wishes, and even my deepest, darkest dreams through my writing like it's a fucking diary, and you eat it up every single time.

I'm just so glad that this community exists, as chaotic as it sometimes is, and that you chose to stick around, even when I suck at keeping promises sometimes. You keep teaching me new things about who I am, my writing, and how important it is to put myself first. I don't know if you've heard it lately, but you guys are incredible and I appreciate the hell out of every single one of you.

Thanks to Tumblr, I made lifelong friends (especially looking at you, @blackshadowswriter) and found like-minded people that made me feel less alone. That alone was worth making this account and continuing to post on here.

You may think that I'm being dramatic, but for someone who has never really experienced the kind of validation this community gives me, I want to celebrate this milestone. It means more to me than I can even put into words. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I love you all so much! Please, don't ever forget how amazing you are.

That being said, I've got some exciting things planned.

The other day, I found a folder in my Docs titled "the vault". I completely forgot about it because I usually keep my WIPs in a different folder. As it turns out, I made that folder for fics that I originally never planned to post, or ones that I'd finished but wasn't happy with. It’s many, but it’s a few. Some are deeper than others. I also jotted down rough ideas and outlines last year that I stuffed in there, some of which I've actually shared with you but never started working on. Until now. And the contents of that vault are what I want to give to you now.

INTRODUCING: The Vault

6 stories from the vault. 1 bonus fic. 7 days.

I went through a myriad of emotions while I wrote these. For some, I actually bled my soul onto paper. For others, it was merely a brain fart that led to their existence. They're sad, horny, and at times angry, but some of those were originally written for me, and only me. Those that weren't started as a few sentences in a folder before I forgot they existed. Either way, I don't want them to catch dust. And I wouldn't want to share them with anyone else.

Starting February 14th, I will be posting one fic every day until February 20th. My “The Vault” works are Matt Murdock x Reader works, but I've made an exception for the bonus fic. I won't tell you what they are about, but I will give you a list of installments and what kind of fic they are so you know what to be excited about (and maybe which ones are not your cup of tea).

-> The number at the end tells you the date I will be posting it on, but I put it in chronological order as well.

INSTALLMENTS:

1. If You Need To Be Mean (angst, hurt/comfort) 14.

2. Mismatched Bridesmaid (fluff, smut) 15.

3. Weed Cookies (humor, fluff, cw: accidental drug use) 16.

4. the grudge (songfic, angst, hurt/comfort, cw: death of a parent) 17.

5. Halloween (Smut) 18.

6. I Want To Fuck A Priest (Smut, cw: priest!Matt) 19.

BONUS:

7. Now That We Don’t Talk (Part 2 of Is It Over Now?) -> Frank Castle x Reader (smut, angst) 20.

A few more words: You are free to send me an ask if you want to know more, but be prepared that I won't be answering in much detail. I don't want to spoil the fun. I would, however, not mind talking about them as vaguely as possible (if you’re interested).

Thank you all. For everything. And I hope you stick around to read these little gems.

With love from yours truly,

Lizzi <3

#lizzi writes #follower celebration #valentine’s day #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock x you #frank castle x reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock angst #charlie cox

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evelhak · 3 months

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[requests closed]

Okay, my KnB mutuals, friends and strangers alike, the day has come.

I'll tag some people off the top of my head, because then I don't get to secretly wish no one saw this, so I would be off the hook. @lylakoi @vespersposts @active-mind-15 @ni-kol-koru @misfitmiska @myndless88 @kurokonobrainrot @japeneselunchtimerush @shutokushintaro @kucho04 @deargravity @raspberrylix

Whether you're tagged or not is actually inconsequential for the rest of the post.

I never thought of doing events for hitting any follower count, EXCEPT I told myself a long time ago that

once I have 1111 followers (only because I will realistically never have 11 111) I will do something stupid in the spirit of this string of numbers.

In other words

✨I welcome you all to torture me✨

(if you want.)

Now is your chance to ask someone to do anything you want.

To write any fic, draw any fan art, or create any other type of fan content you want (edits and AMVs count too, in fact, if you tell me to bake a cake or knit a scarf with your idea, I will do it) and you may be as mean about it as you wish. Complete disregard for my feelings is encouraged.

I'm not saying you have to be intentionally sadistic about it, that's not the point, the point is that you get to do what you please, whether it makes me suffer or not.

Do you have an idea you wanted to make but didn't dare because you feared fandom hate? I'll take the hit.

Want me to write about a ship I love cheating on each other? I'll do it.

Want me to draw a ship I hate, doing something shippy? Name the ship.

Is there an AU you want to see? There's a good chance I will squirm through it, but squirm I shall.

Have a particularly gross headcanon you've wanted to see but didn't dare to make it?

You get the idea.

(Of course, how much you know about my likes and dislikes depends on how long you've known me, but since the point isn't really to ask me to do what I hate, it's for you to get the total freedom of not caring about the preferences of the person you're requesting something from, don't get hung up on that.)

For this one time, and one time only, I am your daredevil, I am your genie in the bottle.

Your rules are simple:

if you want, ask me to create anything you wish, give me your most selfish or egotistical KnB desire

you can be as vague or as detailed as you want

don't go easy on me, don't tone it down because you want to spare me

if you're wondering if you can request something the answer is yes

however if your most selfish desire is a sketch of some characters on a picnic then that is exactly right, you don't need to shock anyone on purpose, you can ask for anything that is true to you

My rules are:

I am not allowed to complete a request I hate in the easiest way I can imagine, my goal is to transform that hate into love

I must approach everyone's ships and headcanons and visions as seriously and with as much love as I would my own

the only occasion I will not do something is if it significantly impacts my mental health for the worse

My brain is ridiculously one track, and super attached to my own headcanons, my one vision for everything, so believe me when I say this could easily get hard for me. That's the point. Obviously I'm doing this for shits and giggles, but the underlying drive is also to give myself some tough love and Spartan treatment, for character building. Let's smash my One True Headcanon brain (for a moment, before I go right back to my preferences, hopefully taking something valuable and more permanent with me from the experience).

I will keep this open for three days. If I get too many requests, I will draw five out of a hat, or something. : D I'll finish them during 2024.

Like I said, I didn't tag anyone on purpose or leave anyone out on purpose so no matter how you pass by this post you're free to do as you please with it or ignore it, obviously. Anons are also fine, by the way.

(If you feel like inviting more chances for me to potentially cry, reblogging is fine too.)

#someone may have told me to branch out #probably not what they meant but let's go #let's torture eve event #knb

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mattodore · 10 months

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100 questions with Theo | playlist, pinterest | ←

1. What common traits do you share with your oc? What about them is the least like you?

Well… we both have a hard time connecting with people, are easily jealous, and are hungry for understanding. Theo is very different from me in that he’s reckless, judgmental, dismissive, and is more willing to work for approval than I am.

2. Do you think you would get along with your oc if you could meet them? What things would you talk about?

To be honest… no. Theo isn’t exactly easy to get along with (which is by design) and neither one of us would make the first move to talk to the other.

3. How competent would your oc be in a survival situation? Would they be better off on their own or in a group?

He’d be very competent. Theo is a survivor. He’ll claw his way to the finish line even while covered in gore and viscera. Most of his knowledge comes from what he’s read with little hands-on experience, but I believe he’d still be able to apply that knowledge well. He’s not very strong as he doesn’t exercise and is fairly slim… so I think he might struggle with things that would require a lot of muscle. But, then again, Theo has a sharp mind… I think he could find a workaround for most things that would’ve required physical strength anyway. Theo’s fast on his feet and is also good at hiding… he’s pretty stealthy and quiet when he needs to be. Plus, with Theo’s perceptiveness and natural aptitude for reading people, I think he’d be quick to suss out who’s trustworthy or not and would know not to approach a bad situation.

Theo is a loner and is generally distrustful of people, so he’d be better off on his own. Maybe one other person beside him would be okay for a short while just to have an ally, but… I don’t know. I think he’d let someone tag along with him for a few days and then he’d just vanish in the middle of the night to be all on his own again.

4. Is your oc a daredevil, or more of a scaredy cat? What is the most daring thing they’ve done in their life?

He’s self-destructive, so… daredevil. At the same time, though, I think a lot of the situations Theo puts himself in do in fact scare him… you’d hardly be able to tell, though. The most daring thing he’s done… hm… Theo has walked into the den of a drug lord and behaved disrespectfully.

5. What is your oc’s patience like? When waiting for something, are they able to sit still or do they fidget? How do they fidget?

I think Theo is exceptionally patient and doesn’t fidget at all. He was trained out of unattractive behaviors very young in his life, so he doesn’t fuss or even so much as shift from foot to foot—not even while under duress. He’s very still. As for his patience… Theo is well acquainted with never getting what he wants no matter how long he waits, so he has the patience of a saint.

6. How much thought does your oc put into what they wear/look like? Any reason why?

Theo has to think about what he’s wearing very carefully. He’s essentially living three separate lives and has different attire for each of them. He has the typical refined masculine fashion he has to wear whenever he’s around his family, the casual fashion he dresses in for his college life, and then the more fun, colorful, androgynous fashion that he wears for his nightlife activities. He’s separated his life into three neat little boxes while he himself stands at a distance from them, wiping his hands on his legs nervously.

With regards to skin and hair care, he doesn’t do much. Theo has naturally good skin (even when he was a teenager) and only uses facial cleanser and lotions on it. His hair is the same and all he does to it, aside from washing it, is use different oils to keep it soft. He doesn’t allot much time to these things as he has other things he believes he needs to focus on (academics, for one).

7. Does your oc collect anything? What about knowledge or facts? How big is their collection?

Theo collects these small, intricately crafted decorative bells! He loves the sounds they make and how pretty they are. He has an entire curio cabinet full of them and is methodical in dusting them off and wiping them down regularly. He also has a ton of other knick knacks and things he’s picked up over the years scattered all around his apartment, but the bells are what he’s most attached to, I believe.

8. What kind of flavors does your oc like? How much spice can they handle?

Theo has been eating spicy food since he was a child, so he takes it like a champ. I don’t think he’s ever had anything that was too spicy for him. The burn is nothing to him. Moving on, Theo isn’t picky and will eat whatever is given to him, no matter the flavor. He does actually dislike sweets, though, and has a hard time eating them when they’re given to him. To be clear, he’ll still eat them… he just doesn’t actually like them and grimaces the whole way through. Theo has a really strange relationship with food.

9. How easily does your oc trust others? Any particular reason why? How trustworthy are they themselves?

Theo had his trust broken by the abuse and neglect he faced when he was just a little boy. He’s never felt safe around others as a result and the effects of that have definitely leaked over onto everything else in his life, staining any chance he could’ve had at forming normal bonds with others. It’s not even that he doesn’t trust people easily, but rather that he distrusts everyone on principle and is suspicious of every kindness or placid smile he receives. Even when he’s being pampered, he feels uneasy and suspicious of what will come next—what he thinks has to come next. He believes that there’s something malignant and twisted at the core of everyone who tries to touch him. If he can’t find the intent to harm that he always expects to see, he’ll just sow the seed himself.

As for Theo, I believe he’s trustworthy to a point. You can trust that Theo won’t tell other people the things you’ve told him in confidence, but you can’t exactly trust him not to turn around and start hurling the things you’ve told him right back in your face. Theo lashes out when he gets nervous or scared, especially if he’s in withdrawal, and he has this ability to see through people… to know what will slice them apart easiest, what they dislike most about themselves… that is almost impossible to come back from. You have to be incredibly strong, mentally speaking, to be able to handle Theo sometimes. He’ll tremble while hurting you, but he’ll hurt you nonetheless.

10. What are some of your oc’s pet peeves? How do they handle it when the annoyance doesn’t stop?

Theo actually has a lot of pet peeves… so much so that I don’t think it’d be a wise use of my time to list them all, lest we be here for days. I’ll just list off some of the things that annoy him the most out of everything.

Theo really doesn’t like being prodded for answers to personal questions, especially if they relate to his childhood or family life. He doesn’t like it when he’s interrupted or talked down to. He doesn’t like being touched unexpectedly or having someone stand too close to him and will flinch reactively. He doesn’t like having the spotlight on him—or, at least, he doesn’t like it when he’s not all uninhibited from intoxication. He especially doesn’t like arrogance (lmao).

How Theo reacts is totally dependent on who he’s around, whether or not he’s using, and whichever one of these pet peeves is getting to him, but in general he’s either going to shut down, glare and shoot off at the mouth, or walk away.

11. Does your oc have a good sense of direction? Do they get lost easily?

Theo’s sense of direction is okay, but it definitely could be better. His memory itself isn’t very great and he often finds himself feeling déjà vu in places he swears he’s never been to while forgetting the basic landmarks that’re around the city he lives in.

12. How well would your oc handle being placed in a leadership position?

Not well at all. Theo doesn’t want to be responsible for other people when he can hardly even take care of himself. The idea of being some kind of authority is nausea inducing to him. I think a lot of people would willingly follow him, though, because he really does have this innate ability to draw people in even when he’s not trying to.

13. What is your oc’s confidence like? Are they self-confident to the point of being arrogant? Are they terribly self-deprecating?

Theo often seems to other people as though he has a lot of self-confidence because of the way he talks and how he carries himself, but in actuality he’s rather disparaging toward himself. He’s always second guessing himself and wondering if he’s good enough. He feels as though he’s missing some vital part of himself that everyone else must have, something that without which he’s never going to be fully whole and deserving of love.

14. What is your oc’s speech like? How loud are they usually? Do they have an accent or a stutter?

Theo has a very clear voice and never slurs. However, he does start mumbling if he’s beginning to withdraw into himself or if he’s only just woken up and sleep is still clinging to him. He speaks quietly, never wanting to be too loud and draw too much attention to himself (a habit he formed in his childhood). His American English accent is largely neutral without any extra stresses or dips.

He did actually develop a stutter in his teenage years but underwent speech therapy for it.

15. What is your oc’s memory like? Do they remember certain things better than others? Do they have any strategies to better remember things?

Theo often has lapses in his memory that’re either brought upon by or made worse by drug use and trauma. There are events and experiences that his brain just buries from him and he can’t remember them at all. Aside from that, his memory itself isn’t that great, but he’s learned that repetition helps. If he’s studying or has something he really wants to remember well, he’ll read/repeat it forwards and then backwards a few times. He takes a ton of notes as well and has a journal that he writes in every day now. He’s aware that his memory gets better when he lays off the drug use for a while, but… he’s addicted. He doesn’t try getting clean for a while and relapses many times before it finally sticks.

16. How affectionate is your oc? How do they convey their affection? By being touchy, or through more subtle ways?

Whether it’s platonic or romantic, Theo isn’t very affectionate at all. He doesn’t even really have a baseline for what real physical and verbal affection is meant to look like anymore, as his memories of the affection his childhood au pair showed him keep fading more and more as each day passes.

Theo can only picture affection if it’s hard—if it’s brutal and rough and will ultimately hurt him. He can’t really wrap his head around softness anymore. That kind of touch is almost unbearable to him… because if he could’ve always had gentle hands on him, then what did he do so wrong to deserve the ones he got?

He wants to be affectionate, but… it’s too much. He’s too fearful and ashamed of everything he wants and it’s all just building up inside of him. Voicing desire out loud is nearly impossible for him as well, because he just feels so much shame around it… how it deviates from everything he’s been told he should want… how it’s been used against him…

It takes a lot of time to get him used to gentle affection and when he starts to reciprocate it, it’s tentative at first. He’ll stand close by and then he’ll reach out to hold onto an arm or grip tight onto the back of a shirt for just a few seconds. Just… little progress at a time, these small victories where warmth spreads through his fingers. It takes well over a year before he becomes more bold and will initiate kisses or hugs. Still, though, he won’t voice his affections or even his desires. Not for a very long time.

The only exception to this is when he’s hurt. He seeks Matthias out and will wait to be touched before clinging on tightly and letting it all out.

17. How polite is your oc? Do they know how to act in a formal situation? How would they *actually* act in a formal situation?

Theo isn’t very polite unless he’s in the presence of his parents or is somewhere where he’s expected to uphold his family name. He knows how to act in formal situations well enough and will follow the rules set out for those occasions when he needs to. Outside of formal situations and away from his parents, though, Theo is often dismissive and cold and will skim over the standards of politeness. It’s the only way he knows how to defend himself anymore.

18. How physically strong is your oc? Is their agility or endurance better?

Theo isn’t very strong at all. He has some lean muscle that’s a combination of natural testosterone paired with light cardio (he dances, plays a few sports when he gets the opportunity to, and sometimes jogs) but that’s it. I think his stamina isn’t that great but he’s fast and reacts quickly—though he finds it hard to actually dodge when he should… even when he can see it coming. His tolerance for pain has adapted over time and is rather high now, but the emotional effects of being hurt still get to him.

19. What is your oc’s creative skillset? Music, drawing, writing, dancing, etc.? Or are they lacking creativity entirely?

I think Theo is actually really creative even without him realizing it. He really enjoys dancing and is free while moving, doing whatever he thinks feels good; he wasn’t taught professionally at all, so it’s just intuitive and fun for him. He keeps track of things in his journal, but he has a certain style to the way he writes that I think is incredibly descriptive and lends itself to creativity. In all of his English and Literature classes he received a ton of high praise that was ultimately ignored as it wasn’t relevant to the direction his life was planned to go in (with relation to his future major in business). He doesn’t draw or play music, but I think he’d be good at it if he ever allowed himself the time to have those creative outlets. Theo’s pretty strict with himself, honestly, but his imagination… it’s definitely there. I think as a child he was used to entertaining himself by imagining a different life for himself, one where his au pair took him with them when they left his home.

20. Does your oc have any favorite games to pass the time? What other hobbies do they have?

Theo people watches, if that counts. He likes observing people and picking out details about their life from their behaviors and the way they dress. His other hobbies… hm. I don’t think he has very many, truthfully. He likes to go partying and will get intoxicated however he can and go dancing, maybe even play a few drinking games. He likes playing sports but he doesn’t often get the opportunity to since he doesn’t have any friends (in his mind). He likes to collect things and window shop. He likes journaling. Yeah… that’s really all I can think of. Theo doesn’t allow himself very many simple joys.

21. Is your oc expressive, or would they rather conceal their emotions? What are their typical expressions like?

Theo can certainly try very hard to conceal his emotions, but his eyes… they give everything away if you’re truly paying attention. He can be very impassive at times, especially if he’s hurt, but when he’s frustrated it’s incredibly obvious; his brow furrows and he glares directly at whatever or whomever is bothering him. He hides his hurt well, but when he’s feverish and sick you can kind of catch onto it by the sweat on his brow and the flush of his cheeks. Theo’s smile itself is incredibly rare and kind of… clumsy? His smile is crooked and he never holds it for very long. If you call out his name he’ll startle and quickly look toward you, and in those few seconds of shock his face gives away how terrified he truly is most of the time.

22. How easily does your oc fare in the sun? Do they tan or burn easily? Are they completely unaffected?

Theo doesn’t burn at all even when he doesn’t apply any sunscreen. Let it be known that Matthias is always reaching out to Theo to put some on him when they’re together, fussing over Theo and complaining about the harms of the sun… it’s cute. Theo doesn’t tan that easily so he has to put suntan lotion on whenever he wants to.

23. How graceful is your oc? Are they elegant in their movements, or more clumsy?

Theo has a grace that comes to him easily now through years of practice. Because of how ambitious both of his parents were for wealth and status, he’d been brought to numerous social functions that required a lot of him when it came to manners and poise. He never learned in a professional capacity, but he has a kind of elegance that was ingrained in him by a militaristic approach to teaching from his parents as well as observation. There’s nothing clumsy about the way he moves when in public and you would assume he’s someone who’s very confident in himself just by watching him from across the room.

24. Is your oc a romantic, or are they grossed out by the simple mention of anything romantic?

Hm. I don’t think Theo outwardly shows any romantic tendencies, but inwardly… in that soft, guarded place inside of him… I think he makes himself sick yearning for love and romance. He doesn’t let on to those feelings of his at all. In fact, I think Theo probably shrinks away from mentions of romance, insisting he doesn’t need it… but really, it’s something he imagines all the time. What must it be like, to have that for yourself? Does it hurt? How bad is it? Is it painless? Does it fill you up? Does it ever feel like enough? Thoughts like those.

25. How stubborn is your oc? Are they open to considering different options or opinions, or are they more closed off?

Theo is incredibly stubborn. You can certainly try to convince him to change his opinion or what he believes, but you’re going to be fighting tooth and nail against a man who is wholly inflexible. Theo’s formed a lot of very fast and hard opinions over the course of his life that he’s unreceptive to changing for his own peace of mind. He might let some allowances slip by, but don’t count on it. I honestly don’t think he’d ever give in and change them unless he’s been hit with solid facts or experiences something for himself that points to the contrary.

26. How does your oc sleep? Do they move around a lot? What position does your oc normally sleep in? What are their typical bedding arrangements like?

Theo is a very anxious, fitful sleeper. He’s wound up all tight through the night and will fist his hands in his covers or his pillows. He moves around a lot and prefers to sleep with his back to a wall and the door a great distance away from him. He can’t sleep if he’s on the first floor of a building or if he doesn’t check all of the locks first. Theo sleeps on his side and will actually startle awake if he rolls over onto his stomach, heart in his throat and sweat at his temples. Theo’s bed in his apartment has… three, maybe four pillows—one of which he hugs to his chest. On his bed, he has two sets of sheets, a comforter, and a blanket. Theo has a sort of crowded bed, honestly, but it cradles him… which is something he needs to feel safe.

27. What is your oc’s sleep schedule like? Are they a night owl, an early morning riser, or do they get any sleep at all?

Theo prefers the morning as he doesn’t like the dark and feels worse without sunlight. But… hm… Theo doesn’t get a lot of sleep since he’s either out partying and getting too intoxicated to stand or he’s up all night pouring over his study notes and getting a headache for it. I’d say he normally falls asleep around 3AM-4AM and doesn’t wake back up until 7AM. Four-ish hours is pretty average for how much sleep he gets a night… maybe less at times. He’s wearing himself down and will end up crashing eventually…

28. How organized is your oc? How important is organization to your oc?

Theo is very organized when it comes to his study materials and his wardrobe, but the state of the rest of his apartment is… I wouldn’t say messy exactly, but cluttered enough that he has trouble finding things sometimes. He has so much on his plate already that his apartment kind of suffers for it. I think he values organization a lot, it’s just that he lets it get away from him. I think there’s a lot you can learn about Theo from how his apartment looks…

29. If a perfume was to be made to represent your oc, what sorts of smells would be included in it?

I think Theo is best represented by light scents as he himself doesn’t really like anything that smells too chemical. He hardly ever wears cologne, but when he does he sticks to a fresh green scent. Powder and soap… that’s what reminds me of him most. Lemon, too, but not strong… just a hint of citrus.

30. How caring/empathetic is your oc? Are they the type to immediately adopt and protect others, or are they a true sadist?

Kindness hasn’t come easily to Theo since he was a child, so I’m not sure if he’s very caring anymore… at least, if he is then he doesn’t outwardly show it. Theo does have a learned kind of empathy, though… just not… a very real kind? Um, so because of the hostile environment he grew up in he had to adapt to subtle changes in expression, mood, and tone… he needed to know when he was in danger, what alert signs there were. The easier people became to read, the more he could feel their emotions spill over and try to pull him in. It’s… not exactly as if he’s sharing the feelings, but more like he has a very real sense of them… it’s almost tangible.

31. What inspired the creation of your oc? Any specific things, a general aesthetic or idea, or something completely random?

Theo is a pretty old character of mine… I’d say he’s been with me for at least five years now. Originally, I think he was just… a vague idea in my head with some aesthetic choices in mind (sweaters, abandoned houses, autumn leaves, dirty shoes)... but over time I started getting more invested. I think one of the main building blocks of his character was actually a really old post I saw about a bloody child bringing a rabbit they'd saved from a hawk into the house and trying to get their mom to notice, but the mom just blew them off because she was busy on the phone… yeah. I kind of got that stuck in my head and built up this neglected kid around it who was a little sarcastic, mean, buried under all kinds of responsibilities, and lonely. His actual appearance in TS4 wasn't even really meant to be him at first, as I'd just been making random male sims at the time and then one of the ones I made kept drawing my attention back to them. I made some slight changes and then I decided that would be Theo. He still looks pretty similar to the original sim, actually.

32. How judgemental is your oc? Do they keep an open mind about people, or are they the type to judge a book by its cover?

Oh, Theo is super judgmental. He’s distrustful of people on principle and highly perceptive, which is an all around bad combination since he can quickly spin the innocuous into something worse.

33. What five objects or things could be expected to be found on your oc’s person at any time? Why?

Theo has a bag that he keeps his planner, his phone, his keys, some cash, and hand sanitizer in… occasionally there’s some baggies in there if he’s stressed out from too many assignments or pressure from his parents.

34. Does your oc have a pet? If they could have another one or if they were to get one, what would it be? How well could they care for it?

No, Theo has no pets. He wouldn’t even know what kind of pet to get. Theo had never even been around any pets until he met Matthias’s cat. I also think… well. Theo wouldn’t be very good at caring for a pet. Like, I don’t even think he’d be good at feeding fish regularly. He doesn’t have that kind of time and can barely even take care of himself.

35. Does your oc have any distinguishing markings? Scars, tattoos, birthmarks, freckles, etc?

Theo is covered in beauty marks from head to toe. I think his most notable (at least to me) beauty marks are the two under his left eye and the one on the tip of his nose. Theo has no birthmarks, freckles, or tattoos. Theo also has no scars… every violent hand laid on him has been intentional in pulling back just before leaving behind any lasting marks.

36. What is your oc’s fight or flight response like? What sorts of things provoke it the most?

When Theo’s nervous (around other people, in discussions that’re too personal, when confronted by emotions, etc.) I’d say he falsely exhibits the fight response and will become a bit nasty as a defensive maneuver. If he’s pushed past defensive behaviors and is actually put into harm's way, the fight response quickly melts away to his real fear responses. As a specific result of trauma, Theo displays both the fawn and freeze responses. His parents bring about the fawn response and figures of authority bring out the freeze response. I’ll leave it at that.

37. How does your oc handle heavy stress? Do they have any specific coping mechanisms? Are they healthy or not?

Theo is used to stress as he’s been put under a lot of it since he was a teenager. That said, he’s never been able to manage it healthily and his go-to way to cope is by numbing everything out. Theo abuses substances and sex… and I suppose that by nature of both of these coping mechanisms he’s also abusing himself. It’s obviously not good for him and as time goes on he begins to spin out of control.

38. What does your oc do to relax? Any specific activities? Why?

Theo never truly allows himself to relax, like, ever. Hm. I do think there are small moments, though, where he finds some peace. When he’s in his apartment he’ll sometimes reach into the curio cabinet that holds his collection of tiny little bells and give a few of them a ring… the sounds they give off are very sweet and make him smile. In the morning, when he wakes up at his apartment, he likes to watch the birds fluttering about outside his bedroom window; there’s a window box just there that’s home to a nest. He’s never once tried to interact with the birds, though. He just stares and watches silently from his bed.

39. Does your oc have any nicknames? What are the origins of them? If they don’t, can you come up with some possible ones?

Theo is in itself a nickname that he gave himself when he moved out of his parents’ home (Theodore is his full name). Most everyone in his personal life calls him Theo except for his parents, his extended family, and the people that his parents associate with.

Matthias has given Theo a couple personal nicknames and also calls him a bunch of others. My personal favorite of the nicknames Matthias has given Theo is Bambi, which was originally given to him because his last name is Doe (a doe is a kind of deer… hence Matthias reaching for the name of an animated deer). Matthias also calls him Bambi because of his golden brown eyes and because Theo is sort of wobbly and green in Matthias’s eyes, reminding him of that scene wherein Bambi tries to walk for the first time. Matthias also calls Theo mała myszko, which means little mouse in Polish (Matthias’s native language), and he often uses my darling at the same time (like: “My darling, mała myszko, it’s time to get up”). As for regular nicknames, Angel is what Matthias calls Theo most often in the heat of sex (again, a nickname often said alongside my darling, as in: “My darling angel”). There are many more pet names that Matthias calls Theo, but those are the ones he hears most often.

40. What languages does your oc know? Are there any they want to learn but haven’t had the chance to? How good are they at picking up new ones?

Theo is only fluent in English and Spanish, however he can read Hangul and understand Korean when it’s spoken to or around him. He doesn’t have the time to learn any other languages and doesn’t exactly have a desire to either. I think his parents have definitely pushed him to learn more languages as they would benefit his career, but he has too much going on as it is to learn at the moment.

41. What was the worst injury your oc ever suffered? Has it had any long lasting impact on them?

I’m not going to answer that first part, but I will say that it did impact him grievously and has rippled out through his whole life.

42. Is your oc an optimist or a pessimist? Any particular reason why?

Theo’s a pessimist. He’s never had much to be happy about and is on a path in his life that is being entirely puppeteered by his parents. Theo has nothing to look forward to and feels like his life is out of his own control and already over.

Through the course of the little story that I have for Echthroi in my head, however, Theo does eventually move away from the pessimism. I don’t think he becomes an optimist exactly, but he smiles more and finds things to look forward to in his life.

43. How important are the rules to your oc? Do they follow them to a t, or do they enjoy breaking them?

Theo definitely has a history as a rule follower. He can’t really help it, not with the way he was raised. He had rebellious moments as a teenager—refusing to sit down for a haircut, stabbing a needle through his own ears to pierce them—but those were things he did to incite his parents’ attention. Now, though… well. I think he still follows most rules, but he does use drugs… pretty big rule to break there, legally speaking.

44. How violent is your oc? Or are they more of a pacifist? To what lengths will they go to start/avoid a conflict?

Theo is all bark and no bite. He’ll lash out if he’s frightened, he’ll insult and dismiss, but the second he sees a telling twitch of the hand or building tension in the jaw he goes quiet and retreats. He’s only ever tried fighting back a few times… he doesn’t have it in him anymore.

45. How is your oc around animals? What about children?

Theo isn’t good with children and is awkward and fumbling with animals. He’s never been around a lot of kids, but… I don’t know. I think seeing children hurts him, a lot of the time. The happier they are, the more Theo wants to escape. With animals… he doesn’t know how to touch them or even how to approach. Matthias’s cat, Odious, is very friendly and makes Theo freeze up when she comes over to lay in his lap. It takes him months to get used to her. He doesn’t hate either of them to be clear. Like, he’s not a total weirdo, he just… he doesn’t know how to act around them.

46. Does your oc lie a lot, or is the truth very important to them? What is their reaction to other people lying to them?

Theo isn’t a very good liar but he has a lot that he has to keep secret… because of this, he’s learned how to skirt around the truth and evades questions that poke and prod with ease. However, I think despite how frequently he tells half-truths, he’s actually someone who doesn’t like lying. He’s used to being told lies, though. He’s been lied to rather often and even though he can see through it effortlessly now that he’s had so many years to catch on to the signs, it still hurts him. He doesn’t outwardly show that he knows the truth, but internally it tears him up.

47. How much of a prankster is your oc? Are their pranks truly evil, or more harmless, positive ones?

Theo doesn’t like pranks. He doesn’t like startling people and doesn’t find it humorous. He doesn’t ever want to make anyone feel fear. He knows what that’s like all too well.

48. What are your oc’s nervous tics? Are they aware of them? Do they attempt to hide them?

I was going to say Theo has no nervous tics, but I suppose the way he lashes out is a kind of nervous tic. Physically speaking, though, Theo shows next to no signs of distress. He isn’t someone who fidgets ever, though he does still get the urge to at times. If he ever slips up and moves a hand clumsily in the air or shifts uncomfortably, he’ll catch himself and freeze, righting himself without drawing any more attention to himself.

Theo is still skittish, though. Like, he won’t shift around or bounce a leg, but he startles easily. Call his name and he jumps, make a loud noise and he jumps, say something unexpectedly and he jumps. He’s never been able to hide that.

49. What would be the perfect gift for your oc? What would be their reaction to receiving it?

If you gave Theo a bell his cheeks would get all pink and he wouldn’t be able to look away from it… he’d hold it very gently in his hands, not wanting to drop it. He’d say thank you all soft and quiet, then place it with the rest of his collection. He’d smile to himself, but he wouldn’t smile at you.

I also think bandaging Theo up would feel like a gift to him. No one’s ever taken care of him like that before.

50. How attentive is your oc? How perceptive are they? How easily do they get distracted?

Theo’s incredibly perceptive and when he’s focused on one thing it’s almost impossible to pull his attention away from it. He’s pretty discipled, honestly, because of all the studying and the focus he’s needed to keep up with it. I think Matthias is the only person who can distract Theo… the ways in which he goes about doing that are best left to the imagination. Have fun.

51. If your oc was to receive an award for something, what would it most likely be for? Have they received any awards in the past?

Theo’s won many different kinds of academic awards throughout school. Honestly… I don’t know any specific awards I’d give him…

52. In what ways does your oc cope with anger? How easily angered are they? Do they lash out?

Theo only lashes out when he’s scared, not from anger. Anger is an emotion that frightens Theo, that colors his cheeks with shame. He’s been on the receiving end of anger most of his life, so to feel it himself is… horrifying. I think Theo believes anger forces your hand, that it’s always this uncontrollable act of violence no matter what. He represses his anger frantically, desperate not to frighten anyone, not to hurt. He’s very hard to make angry and there’s next to nothing someone could do to make him act on his anger, even if it would be justified. He gets annoyed, he huffs, he rolls his eyes, he insults, but he never raises his voice, he never throws his fist, he never threatens.

53. If your oc was to host a podcast or TV show, what would it be about? Would your oc actually be good at it? What sorts of guests would appear?

Theo would rather watch paint dry than host any kind of show, let’s be clear. However, I think he has a very good podcast voice. I can imagine him doing a podcast where he reads to you until you fall asleep. No guests, just his voice.

54. How would you describe your oc’s voice to sound like? Do you have any voice claims for them?

Theo is soft-spoken. His voice is unassuming and haunting… you close your eyes to listen and feel the chills running up your arms. He pronounces his words almost delicately, giving an alluring color to his voice. Like a mirage in the desert, you want to drink it in, to hold it in your own mouth just to taste it for a while. When Theo speaks, you get the impression that he’s not all there, something disengaged in his tone. It drives people to take a step closer, wanting to hear more of it, to be worthy of his full attention. It’s a voice you could listen to every day and still find yourself drawing a blank when trying to imagine the avatar behind it.

No voice claims.

55. How sensitive to loud sound is your oc? Do they prefer constant high background noise, low background noise, or complete silence?

Theo is very jumpy around loud noises. If he isn’t prepared for it (like knowingly heading into a club where the music is going to be booming) he’ll flinch and turn his eyes to the ground quickly, shaking out his hands before going statue-still again. Theo prefers complete silence or quiet background noises like a fan or soft, melodious music.

56. What is your oc’s favorite color? If you had to choose one color to represent your oc, what would it be and why?

Theo’s favorite color is probably some shade of red. And I think a fiery orange represents Theo well. Theo reminds me a lot of fire… he’s someone who keeps standing still while smoke is pouring out of his ears, burning quietly in the middle of an abandoned room.

57. How good is your oc’s sight? Do they wear glasses? Do they need glasses? Do they have some form of night vision?

Theo has perfect eyesight.

58. How would you describe your oc’s appearance to someone who’s looking for them? What features would be most identifiable?

I’d probably start waxing poetic about him, honestly. I’d just be giving way too much detail… like:

Theo’s features are delicate and soft-edged. He’s slender with narrow shoulders and of average height. His skin is light brown with a dark smattering of moles all over. His face is round and ruddy cheeked. His brows are straight and dark. His eyes are a light golden brown, sometimes mistaken for hazel, with puffy bags underneath that give a youthful yet tired appearance. His nose is button shaped with a straight bridge. His lips are plump and full. His hair is dark brown and tumbles down to his collarbone in thick waves. His gaze is cool, assessing. He carries such an air of hurt around him that your heart aches when you see him. You could fall in love with him easily.

I think whoever I’m giving instructions to would forget half of what I’d said and only remember the part where I mentioned his long hair. And… hm… I’d say his ruddy cheeks are his most identifiable feature for sure.

59. How good at cooking is your oc? What can they cook/what is their favorite thing to cook?

I think Theo is very bad at taking care of himself, so he actually forgets to eat frequently now that he’s living on his own for college. Regardless… I think he’s decent at cooking. Despite his family having enough money that they easily could’ve hired help around their home, they didn’t. This means that Theo had to fend for himself at a pretty young age. He knows how to cook pretty basic food, but the way he cooks is… messy. He doesn’t have a favorite thing to cook.

60. How good is your oc at keeping track of time? Are they always late, always early, or always right on time?

Hm… I think Theo actually loses track of time a lot, courtesy of his drug use and memory problems, so he has a handful of recurring alarms set on his phone. He’s always on time because of that. He’d feel sick if he were ever late to something he was required to be at, actually… especially if it was a family event.

61. Is your oc more quick-thinking, or do they take longer to figure things out?

Theo catches on quickly. He’s incredibly perceptive and sees what others cannot with ease. Early on in Theo’s childhood he had to learn how to pick up on subtleties in expressions, on double meanings to words, on tone, on gestures… he had to pick everything apart to protect himself, and as he grew that skill of his did as well and aided him in seeing patterns. He’s able to find answers faster than most other people just from deduction.

62. How quick is your oc? Do they have faster or slower reflexes? What things are they quickest at?

Perhaps it’s due to his good eyesight or his peerless perception, but Theo’s reflexes are incredibly fast. He’s good at running, too, and is lightning quick on his feet. I think he’d have done amazingly in track and field if he ever went for it in school. He's really good at soccer for this reason. Despite his stamina being pretty average, Theo’s the kind of person who will push himself harder and harder even when his body’s telling him to pull back. If he dedicated real time to it, I think he could train for a couple of years and come back playing better than anyone.

63. How self-disciplined is your oc? Do they often think before they act, or the other way around?

Theo always thinks things over first and isn’t one for snap decisions. In fact, I’d say Theo actually makes himself sick from how much thinking he’s always doing. One of the many reasons Theo uses drugs is because of how effective they are at shutting off his brain. He’s inundated by the responsibilities of his life—of which he feels he has no control over—and loses whenever he tries outrunning the thoughts that swirl around in his head. Drugs are the easiest way he’s found to get it all to just… stop.

Theo is also very serious about his education, and, in that way, he’s admirably self-disciplined.

64. Which of the seven deadly sins does your oc fall under most? What about the seven heavenly virtues?

Hm… picking a sin for Theo is surprisingly hard. I think Theo’s strongest sin is… maybe envy? Definitely not gluttony or greed, though, that’s for sure.

As for the heavenly virtues, I think Theo best exemplifies fortitude, followed by prudence and temperance.

65. If you were to give your oc a new superpower, what would you choose and why? If *they* were to be able to choose, what would it be and why?

I think I’d want to give Theo something he could use to protect himself and that would offer him a sense of comfort. Maybe just give him invulnerability outright or something subtler that would make it easy for him to escape situations he doesn’t want to be in. Flight? Invisibility?

As for Theo, I think he’d want something repellant. A forcefield of some kind…?

66. What sort of advice would people go to your oc for? What sort of advice is your oc actually good at giving?

Theo isn’t good at giving advice and would shake his head at being asked.

67. How many people does your oc prefer to be around? A crowd, a few friends, or all on their own?

Theo is interesting in that he’s a loner but he also goes out of his way to enter clubs and join throngs of people in the ebb and flow of dance, blending in with them in the dark. I think Theo is actually lonely at his core and ultimately is unhappy being so solitary—a truth he neither acknowledges to himself nor to others. A small group of people who he trusts and loves would soothe him best.

68. What sorts of things would cheer your oc up when they’re down? Is your oc sad often, or is it more rare?

Calling Theo sad would be an understatement. Theo’s full of woe and has little in his life that brings him joy. I think he’s very used to the way he feels but… I do think simple things would make him smile. Something as easy as saying that he’s been missed would do the trick. Just… the implication that he’s been thought of and isn’t easily forgotten… yeah.

69. How energetic is your oc? Are they constantly tired, or constantly bouncing off the walls?

Theo has the weight of the world on his shoulders and is operating on just a few hours of sleep most days, so he’s pretty much low energy up until the moment he’s free of his responsibilities and can let loose. You can see him start to come alive when he’s partying, even while sober—his cheeks flush, his eyes light up, and his body moves fluidly. It’s only when he’s on uppers that he actually starts bouncing off the walls.

70. What about your oc’s lifestyle would they change if they had the ability? Why?

I don’t think Theo would even know where to begin…

71. What is your oc’s go-to for offense? What weapon, what style of fighting? Or are words more their weapon of choice?

I don’t actually think Theo has any offensive preferences, because he’s not really a fighter. That human instinct to fight back was trained out of him very young… so. Yeah. He does have a scathing way of speaking that can definitely be used to hurt, though.

72. What is your oc’s ideal environment like? Urban or natural? Fancy or rustic? What’s the weather like?

Theo wants to be away from it all. He wants to be unreachable. The further away he is from other people, the better. So… somewhere where there’s more nature than there are buildings. As for the weather… hm… Theo prefers cool weather as he likes bundling up, but he doesn’t want to be stuck in the snow all the time. A nice, mild climate.

73. If your oc were to be arrested, what would it most likely be for? Is it justified? Have they actually been arrested before?

Well… I think I’m going to have to say the drug use is probably what’d do him in. Is it justified…? Well, he does use drugs… but I personally don’t think drugs should be criminalized and instead believe in harm reduction.

74. How would your oc act when drunk? What about when really, really tired?

Theo actually doesn’t get drunk very often as he doesn’t really like the taste of alcohol and would rather just use drugs. When he does drink enough to get intoxicated, I think the effect is pretty similar to how he is when he’s on milder drugs. Drunk Theo is unrestrained in how he moves, letting himself be as unrefined as he couldn’t be as a child. He waves his hands around and bounces his legs to let out some energy. He throws his head back when he’s feeling good without fear of being told to mind his manners. His inhibitions are all but nonexistent and he speaks whatever thoughts come to mind. All of those walls he’s built up around himself come tumbling down and he forgets why he was ever afraid to exist as he is in the first place.

Theo becomes sluggish and irritable (...more irritable than he normally is, anyway) when he’s stayed up for far too long. He has little time for anyone else and is focused solely on whatever it is that’s been keeping him up. He gets dizzy when he’s lacking sleep and has a hard time staying on task, though. He doesn’t normally let himself get this tired, but it does happen. He has a lot of trouble getting himself to fall asleep after he reaches this point. Whenever Matthias sees Theo like this, he’ll walk Theo to the bath even as Theo huffs and complains testily. He’ll wait for the tub to fill up while he brushes out Theo’s hair and kisses down his neck, speaking softly to Theo all the while. He’ll get Theo in the water and either slide in behind him or sit just outside the bath. He’ll wash Theo’s hair and gently scrub his body, unbothered when Theo’s head falls back onto his shoulder or against his chest, soaking through his shirt. Theo normally becomes fully pliant by the time Matthias is pulling him out of the water, staying quiet as Matthias dries him off, dresses him, and lays him down in the bed. Matthias will only be away for a moment to grab a book before coming back to hold Theo, blocking the door from Theo’s sight. Theo sleeps like a baby after all of that and Matthias lays awake holding him until noon.

75. What would your oc’s dream home be like? How big would it be? What sorts of rooms would be in it? Where would it be located?

Truthfully, Theo doesn’t like big open spaces. I think there’s a loneliness to big houses that unsettles him. He could never feel comfortable somewhere with too many doors, either… too many shadowy corners, not enough assurance that someone couldn’t be hiding in them. So Theo would rather live somewhere smaller, with just the right amount of space for him and all of his things. Honestly, his apartment is pretty perfect for him already.

76. What is/was your oc’s relationship with their family like? Was it happy, tense, or abusive? What living family does your oc currently have, if any?

Theo’s relationship with his parents has always been one of control. Theo doesn’t speak unless spoken to and falls in line at their every word. His father has plans for Theo to join him in his business and his mother begrudgingly allows it, though she would have rather had him following in her footsteps. Theo’s parents see him as a tool… of which they’ve had to beat into proper shape. Theo grew up under the tender care of his childhood au pair while his parents focused on their careers and their status, and it was only when Theo became old enough that he could take care of himself that they sent away his au pair and decided it was their turn to step in. He’d experienced abuse at the hands of his parents before, but his au pair had shielded him from much more than he was ever even aware of. When his parents would leave him to his own devices he found solace in isolation. His mid-teens were when things got worse for him, but his parents weren’t as physical with him past that as he’d learned to behave how they wanted. Now as an adult he’s no longer under their roof but still comes when they call on him. He’s desperate for their affection and approval, of which he never sees.

77. Does your oc like to wear any particular accessories? Hats, jewelry, scarves, etc.?

Theo likes to wear jewelry. He always has a pair of earrings on and will occasionally throw on a necklace. He doesn’t have any particular set he prefers to wear, but he does go for gold more than silver.

78. How socially skilled is your oc? Are they good at understanding social cues? How charismatic are they?

Theo’s actually very charismatic without trying to be and when he does intentionally turn on the charm (mostly when his parents are requiring him to be at their little soirées) he becomes irresistible. Being a moth caught in his light is… blissful. He picks up on social cues without breaking a sweat and is very good at playing along when he needs to.

But, on a personal level, Theo lacks a social life. He has the people he associates with at parties, but he doesn’t view them as his friends (even though they are…) and doesn’t communicate with them outside of the clubs they go to (even though they try to keep in contact with him). When he doesn’t have to play pretend for his parents, he’s actually pretty hard to get along with and most people resort to watching him from afar. He’s still charming, mind you, but he’s not… um, nice, exactly.

79. For what reason would your oc turn into a villain? And if they’re already a villain, vice-versa?

Honestly… Theo’s been put through a lot and he’s still good at his core, so I can’t imagine there’s anything that could turn him into a villain… that’s just not who he is.

80. What is your oc’s handwriting like? How easy is it to read? Can they write/read cursive?

Theo’s handwriting is even and strong. He doesn’t waste time by adding any extravagant details and has a print style that is consistent from letter to letter. He writes in print almost exclusively, but he does use cursive when he’s writing more formal letters. His cursive is similar to his print in that it’s written with a heavy hand and each stroke is dark and thick.

81. How good is your oc at drawing? What is their preferred art medium, and what is their artstyle like?

Theo’s never really sat down to draw before… or, at least, not since he was a child. Nevertheless, I do think he’d be good at it if he took the time to practice for a year or two. Theo puts his all into studying, so I imagine he’d work tirelessly at it. He’d do those one-drawing-a-day challenges and he’d push himself to think outside of the box. His art would be incredibly creative… I wish he’d allow himself that.

82. What would be your oc’s ultimate dream vacation? Where would they go? Who would they take with them? What would they do?

Theo doesn’t have an “ultimate dream vacation” in his back pocket… like, there’s nothing he fantasizes about. He can’t even think of a concrete destination that he’d want to go for a vacation. He would just get stressed trying to think of something and then he’d freak out about how far behind it’d put him academically… it’d ripple out to the rest of his responsibilities and he’d be lost. He can’t let that happen.

83. What is your oc’s favorite trait about themselves? What about their least liked? What would others like and dislike the most about your oc?

I’ve been thinking this over a lot, because, y’know, Theo really doesn’t like himself. He has a serious amount of self-loathing pulling him down, so it’s hard really coming up with anything he likes about himself. But I think Theo might actually like how perceptive he is, because it’s what keeps him safe. I’m not saying it’s his favorite thing, because that implies he’s got other traits he really likes and that’s really not the case. As for his least liked trait, I think Theo thinks his desires are sticky and pathetic and horrible.

In general, I think most people find Theo’s magnetism to be, well, very alluring. The combination of the way Theo carries himself and speaks has an appeal that draws people in. He’s interesting. At times he’s all sharp edges and closed off whereas other times he’s all blurry and open. As for what people dislike about him, it’s most likely how dismissive he is when you get off on the wrong foot with him.

Matthias in particular loves how intelligent and wry Theo is… and he actually likes how dismissive Theo can be with people. Really, he just likes everything.

84. Is your oc more masculine, feminine, androgynous, or something else entirely?

I think Theo’s pretty masculine, though he does wear some androgynous clothing on occasion.

85. What would history remember your oc for? How would they become famous? Or are they the sort that would really only be appreciated long after their death?

In the Echthroi universe, Theo isn’t someone who seeks the spotlight. However, that’s certainly something his parents want for him… hm. I think he’s well known in the upper echelons of his parents’ circle for his intelligence, his manners, and his arresting appearance. I think he’s also famous on his campus… I think a lot of people would like to covet Theo. I don’t think Theo would ever become proper famous, though… like, I have a really hard time even conceptualizing fame for him, just like I have a hard time seeing that for Matthias.

86. What would someone assume about your oc based on their appearance? Would those assumptions be correct?

Hm… on appearance alone, I think Theo gives off a sort of cool elegance. I think he seems doleful and… honestly, a little intimidating. He’s gorgeous, so… you have to be very confident to approach him. Most people would assume he’s dismissive and stuck-up… that he’s quiet… flirtatious…

I think he definitely does give the cold shoulder a lot of the time and he’s not very talkative, so those would be true. He’s not stuck-up, though… he does keep himself at a distance, but it’s not from some kind of arrogance or self-importance, but rather because he’s desperate to keep himself safe. He’s also only flirty when he’s intoxicated and it’s more reactive than pursuant.

87. What are some of your oc’s physical weak spots? What about emotional/moral ones?

Theo is weak to any kind of affection that’s all soft and sweet. He’s weak to being kissed, to being bitten, to fingers grazing behind his knees, to any kind of touch along his inner thighs. His skin gets sensitive when he’s touched and touched and touched. Emotionally, he’s weak to anger or violence. Morally, he’s weak to his own behaviors and can be unthinkingly cruel or hurtful without just cause. He’s weak to his parents.

88. Does your oc hold grudges? For how long? Does your oc have any rivals?

Theo will hold a grudge until his very last breath. He is very judgmental and forms all these little notions about people before they’ve even spoken a word to him… and then that influences every interaction they have with him afterward. So, you can be nice to Theo, but if he makes a snap judgment about you that’s unfavorable, then he’s going to blow you off. Is he wrong in the judgments he makes? Well… okay, so, not really? Theo is very good at reading people and there are very few times he’s wrong.

That said, Theo's grudges are only the petty, meaningless kind. When it comes to the people who really, truly deserve it, Theo is frustratingly forgiving. Or, not even forgiving, exactly, but rather... he just doesn't acknowledge the real wrongs that've been done to him.

89. What does your oc’s laugh sound like? How often do they laugh? Are they easily amused?

Oh, an angel’s choir. No, I’m kidding… kind of.

Theo’s laugh is very hard to come by because he doesn’t have very much to laugh about. He doesn’t even smile—like, really, truly smile—often. Theo’s pretty much stressed out and exhausted at all times. The only time he’s loosened up is when he’s using drugs to numb everything.

When Theo’s using, he smiles all lopsided and watery, but there’s no light behind his eyes. He’s put together all wrong, you know? He doesn’t really laugh, but he makes these quiet huffing noises when something’s funny to him, often a private joke he’s told himself in his own head.

When he’s sober and he laughs… it’s kind of devastating. The sound of his laugh is similar to his voice, all light and captivating, but there’s this quality to it… this unbridled feeling that Theo almost never shows… that catches everyone off guard. He laughs almost like a child, gasping with it and full-bodied. In that same way, Theo’s happiness and joy is clumsy and innocent. There’s no artifice to it, no rehearsed grace, nothing held back… he laughs until there’s tears in his eyes… and then he just starts crying.

90. Does your oc have any objects they could never give up? Why is it so important to them? Do they have any family heirlooms?

Theo’s deeply attached to his things so there’s a lot that he wouldn’t want to give up. If I had to pick just one object… hm… I think it’s a tie between his memory journal and the perfume his mother gave him when he was a teenager. His memory journal is what’s keeping him together at this point and he relies on it a lot. As for the perfume, it was a gift from his mother after he was accepted into Yale. He’d never be able to part with it (despite it not being to his taste) because it’s the only gift she’s ever given him.

He’s not in possession of any family heirlooms, but if he were then he’d worry himself sick over them. He’d be terrified of something happening to them and being responsible for it. God… he’d be a mess.

91. What is your oc’s typical posture like? Do they slouch, or stand straight? How much space do they usually take up, both physically and figuratively?

Theo has a respectable upright posture and doesn’t slouch at all. If he’s around his family he’ll stand rigidly with his hands behind his back, holding onto one of his wrists as he listens to the conversations around him. On his own, he tries to keep his hands down at his sides but often finds himself moving to cross his arms over his chest. He doesn’t take up much space physically and keeps himself rather contained, but figuratively speaking… well… Theo has a compelling presence and in that way he’s felt all around the room.

92. What trait does your oc appreciate or admire the most in others? Why?

I think Theo admires when people can just… exist with ease. That freedom he sees in others makes him feel envious and he wishes he had that for himself.

93. What is your oc’s preferred learning style? Observation, hands-on, instruction? Do they take notes or memorize?

Theo prefers to learn via instruction and direction. He wants to be able to read each step carefully and then double back when he needs to. He takes a ton of notes as he uses repetition to help him learn, so oftentimes he’ll go back over his own notes and write them out again.

94. Does your oc rely more on a logical or emotional mindset? What situations would this be the opposite?

I’d say Theo’s more on the logical side than the emotional side… but the way in which he uses logic does stem from an emotional place, if that makes sense? Deep down Theo is scared and just wants to keep himself safe, so he leans on logic more than emotions as he feels that emotions make him weak.

I think Theo’s walls come down in the face of genuine love and affection.

95. How is your oc about keeping someone else’s secret? Are they the gossiping type, or do they hold true on their promise to keep things quiet?

Theo’s someone who has a lot of secrets, so he’s very good at keeping them. I think he’d never want to break someone’s trust by gossiping. I mean, he also doesn't really have anyone he’d gossip to in the first place… still. He’d keep it to himself no matter what.

96. Describe your oc in three words. What three words would they use to describe themselves?

Oh, well… in order to describe him to others, I’d say Theo is reticent, touchy, and hungry at his core for something he hasn’t yet allowed himself to name (this isn’t one word, but you get it).

Theo has an unstable sense of self and has a very hard time understanding who he is, so when asked to describe himself he wouldn’t know what to say. Questions like this put him under a lot of stress… I think he’d dissociate just from being asked to try.

97. How old is your oc physically? How old are they in mental maturity? When are they most mature, and when are they the least?

Theo is in his early twenties (I don’t have an exact estimation for him, but somewhere between 21 at minimum and 24 at maximum). Mentally… there’s a lot of conflict and inconsistency there (intentionally done!). I’d say Theo is incredibly independent but he’s also financially reliant and emotionally dependent on his parents. He had to grow up at a very young age and in that sense he’s mature, but he also has a lot of childhood trauma and it’s definitely stunted him in some ways. I think Theo has… a very interesting mentality. He’s all over the place and he’s constantly at odds with his own self. There’s a lot going on with him at any given time. His mind is always racing.

98. Is your oc the type to have a lot of fairly good friends, have a small group of close friends, have one or two best friends, or have no friends at all? Who are they closest to?

Theo refuses to let people get close to him and believes himself to be unworthy of even platonic love, so no… he doesn’t have any friends. Or, rather, Theo doesn’t have anyone he thinks are his friends. In actuality, Theo has four friends that he’s picked up from his time clubbing. He doesn’t see them unless they’re in a party setting, so that might be why Theo views them as being mere acquaintances and nothing more… he puts his nightlife into a little box and tucks that box away in his mind.

99. What is your oc’s morning routine usually like? What do they eat for breakfast (if they have breakfast)? What time do they usually get up in the morning?

Theo wakes up and is kind of out of it for a few minutes. He lays in the bed and has to take stock of where he is first, because some mornings he finds himself in someone else’s bed. If he’s at someone else’s place, he’s dressed and out of there in under five minutes without so much as a goodbye. If he’s in his own home, he lays in bed for a while, staring without really seeing whatever’s in front of him. He gives himself those few minutes of peace and then he’s sluggishly pulling himself out of bed and getting ready for whatever’s on his schedule. He’s normally up by 7AM and doesn’t eat breakfast.

100. Does your character ever swear? How often? How vulgar is their swearing?

Theo swears occasionally but it’s not, like, in every sentence. He’s not particularly vulgar and instead just says the standard everyday swears. I think he says damn it under his breath more than anything.

#river dipping #ts4 #theodore doe #echthroi #a burning house to live in #oc extras #s: echthroi #cw child abuse mention #cw drugs mention #MOVE OVER MATTHIAS TIME TO GET TO THE MAIN EVENT <3 hiiiiiiiiiiii theo *twirls hair*#it's to be expected due to the length of this (11.5k...) but we're learning a lot about theo here :)<3 #rereading all of this while listening to his playlist got me down to song number 18 which is soda by nothing but thieves (tho i did end #up stopping to edit some things here and there) in case anyone wants to try and beat my time 🏁#but anyway. it feels so good to finally be done! i've been staring at these for nearly two weeks and doing next to nothing else #it's been crazy... expect me to me soooo annoying in everyone's activity feeds now btw... like i'm gonna start catching up either later #today or tomorrow depending on if i start feeling better soon (...i didn't mention it i don't think but i've been sick the last three days)#(pretty sure it's bc of the horrible air quality from the fires up north and my drafty house... love that <3)#but again i'll try to space out my catching up when i get to it

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 1 year

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reader and matt who have been dating for a bit so reader thought it would be fun to surprise matt for lunch but when she gets there matt isn’t there but foggy is and she finds out that matt hasn’t told him about them

ooo a lil bit of heartache, I love it. thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

lunch [no] date (Matt x fem reader)

wc || <1k

warnings || none (?)

> PART 2 >

masterlist + rules

taglist

You have been dating Matt for about two months now, things were fairly new but everything was going great. You’ve known him for quite a while, so you knew that Matt was daredevil and about his past etc.

You had a longer lunch break today at work so you thought you’d surprise Matt. You brought lunch to him in case he couldn’t actually leave the office, you also kept in mind that he might be too busy right now, especially with no notice.

Walking up the steps, knocking politely on the office door of ‘Nelson and Murdock’, waiting to possibly be let in.

Foggy greats you warmly, “well hello there! Surprised to see you. How are you?”

“Hi, I’m doing well thank you, how are you?” You respond with a smile. “Yeah I’m okay, this case is a nightmare... wanna come in?” He asks, noticing the way you looked behind him into the room.

“Yes please, I wanted to see Matt, if that’s okay.” Walking past him as he moved to the side.

“He’s actually not here right now, but you’re welcome to wait until he gets back.”

“You sure?” You ask not wanting to get in the way.

“Of course, I’ll just be in here, I’ll keep the door open.” Foggy says with a grin as he walked back into his office.

Taking a seat in the armchair to the side, waiting patiently with a bag of lunch food on your lap. About fifteen minutes had passed, so you began the look aimlessly around the room, eyes staying focused on Matt’s empty office.

“You alright?” Foggy says peeking over his computer and looking out at you through the window.

“Yeah… I was just hoping to have some lunch with Matt before I go back to work.” You said with a sad smile.

“Ouch, why not with me.” He jokes, leaving his desk to talk to you in his doorway.

Laughing at his ‘hurt’ facial expression. “Sorry, I just meant, as a little spontaneous lunch date.”

“A lunch date?” He questions with a quick of his eyebrow.

“Yeah, I thought it’d be fun.” You smile.

The look on his face tells you that he’s trying to figure out how to word the next part politely. “Why uh- why a date?”

“Because…” eyes widened as you nodded, as if for him to finish your sentence.

His head slightly shakes with a confused expression. “Uhh.”

“Wait a second, are you messing with me?” You joke.

“I wish I was, I’m really confused right now.”

“Wait. You… don’t know about me?” Your voice is slightly saddened.

“Yeah… I know who you are.” He lingers, laughing wryly.

“No, but- like, about me and Matt?”

His eyes slightly bug, telling you he doesn’t know.

“He didn’t…” you quietly said, almost to yourself.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand what’s happening right now.” He says empathetically.

“No, it’s okay. I uh- never mind.” You say as you sat up.

“You don’t have to go, what’s up?” He says walking towards you.

“Matt and I have been seeing each other for a couple of months… but I’m guessing he didn’t tell you?” You say as you shrug your shoulders.

“He hasn’t, I’m sorry. Why didn’t he tell me?” Foggy said with a pained smile.

“I’ll get going, you can have this if you want? I’m not hungry anymore.” You say extending the bag towards him.

“No no it’s okay, take it with you.” Smiling with his eyes.

“I’ll see you soon.” Hugging him in your usual friendly way before you walked towards the door. Turning on your heel, “don’t tell Matt I was here, pretend I never said anything?” You jokingly smiled, trying to side your sad one.

#request #matt murdock #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fem!reader #matthew murdock #matthew murdock x you #daredevil

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souliebird · 7 months

Text

[[get low || unfinished]]

series: daredevil | pairing: matt murdock x ofc | rating: unrated

summary: Matt gets off work early, but he's not the only one. (unfinished)

words: 1.7k

notes: I'll never finish this so I might as well chuck it into the wild

"Go home, Matt", Foggy said, planting his hands on Matt's shoulders and forcibly turning him so he was facing the direction of his apartment

"But Foggy," Matt tried to counter, but before he could get another word out, a hand was slapped over his mouth.

"No buts, Matthew. Go home and take the rest of the day off. Take a nap. Take a very very long nap and do not look a gift horse in the mouth," Foggy told him, hands still blocking him from speaking.

That didn't stop him from trying, though.

"Your blind jokes no longer work on me, Murdock. Go home. I do not want to see you until tomorrow because I AM going home to take a very long nap. Which you are also going to do. Nod of you understand."

Matt nodded, unable to fight the smile starting to spread across his face. Foggy dropped his hands and Matt could not help himself.

"To be clear, I'm not going home with you, right? Marci might-"

Foggy groaned loudly, throwing his hands up and turning to start walking towards his own apartment. Matt threw back his head in laughter.

"Bye, Foggy, I'll see you tomorrow!"

"You won't see anything, you fucking asshole! Take a nap!"

Matt shook his head fondly before unfolding his cane and starting to tap his way home.

Their afternoon court case had been rescheduled thanks to leaky pipe finally bursting over the court room they happened to be scheduled in. They had received the call, and after confirming all the details regarding their new time slot Foggy had decided it was a sign to take the rest of the day off.

Because they had court planned, Karen was off following a lead for one of her articles, so there really was no reason to stay in the office.

And he didn't get the afternoon off very often…and a nap did sound nice.

Not that he'd ever admit it to Foggy.

As he crossed the street to the block his apartment was on, a familiar sound caught his ear and his smile returned.

Sadie was home, and by the sounds of it, in the process of cooking something. He could hear her chopping away at fresh vegetables, probably making something insanely delicious for dinner. His stomach gave a pleased rumble at the idea.

He didn't know how he'd gotten so lucky to be with someone who took all his Rightful pickiness about food seriously and made him food he actually really enjoyed. She was passionate about food and Matt happily reaped the benefits.

He folded up his cane before going into the building and starting upstairs. He limited his focus to his apartment, sorting out what noises were coming from within. He could hear music, something in Spanish with a deep bass that was muffled, suggesting Sadie was wearing headphones. He'd have to be careful to not scare her when going in.

She was definitely not expecting him to be home so early. Not that he expected her to be there either.

He resisted the urge to start taking the stairs two at a time. He was supposed to be Relaxing, after all.

Matt tilted his head as he listened and climbed.

Sadie's heart rate was steady as she prepped, talking to herself all the while. Just a barely whispered "chop chop chop" that made Matt's smile bigger. He could tell she was smiling as well.

The song coming from her headphones changed and after a few beats, Sadie gave a delighted gasp. The chopping stopped and Matt heard the clank of the knife as she set it down. He listened as she took a few steps away from the counter then started to…rock? Sway? No, dance. Matt's grin got bigger.

Sadie was dancing to her music.

He stopped for a moment, trying to place the song. It was vaguely familiar, something he heard in college, he's pretty sure. He didn't go to clubs for obvious reasons, but he had gone to parties and had heard the songs around.

Sadie clearly not only knew the song but enjoyed it. As soon as the vocals started, she was singing along.

Matt licked his lips, deciding it may not be a bad idea to hurry up to the apartment so he could witness Sadie having fun up close. She was always so anxious that he just wanted her to have fun. He wanted her to be comfortable around him, to be able to dance like she was when he was in the room. Even after the few months they had been together romantically, she was still nervous to let go around him.

Hearing her dance, moving her hips how she was, motivated him to get to his front door in almost record time. He had to stop and pull his focus away so he could actually open the door. With the final barrier gone between him and Sadie, Matt closed his eyes and inhaled.

He could taste the iced coffee Sadie had gotten while out, the sweat she was starting to generate from her dancing, the supposedly scent free detergent that clung to the sleep shorts and tank top she had changed into. Her day clothes were in the hamper - she had walked by a construction site at some point and he would bet they were covered in dust. Before she had started cooking, she had tidied up the apartment, not that she ever let it get too dirty.

Matt had thought he was a stickler for cleaning until he met her.

Based on the way she was still dancing around the kitchen, Sadie had not heard him come into the apartment. He dropped his saddle bag, coat, shoes, and cane at the door, not caring to hang everything properly.

The lyrics to the song were not PG at all and Matt could only guess her dancing wasn't either. Her knees were bent and her ass was bouncing around in her tiny shorts, while her hips swirled around. Matt knew how good she was at using her hips - when she got a little tipsy she preferred to ride him like it was a sport and she was aiming to take gold at the Olympics.

He finally moved from the hallway to the main room, Sadie still not noticing him, and took a moment to take everything in.

Her curls were bundled on her head and she smelled like coffee and lemon and baking soda. He could taste the lipstick she was still wearing - she had changed to an indie line made of cocoa butter after she'd learned about his senses - and he wanted to lick it off her lips. Or maybe, she could put some more on and leave pretty marks all over him. The thought made his cock twitch with interest.

Deciding he no longer wanted to just be an observer, Matt stepped forward and called out softly, "Oye Siri, pausa la música."

"Pausando la música," the mechanical voice of Sadie's phone replied through her headphones, pausing the music as it answered.

Sadie almost instantly stopped dancing, making an adorably confused noise. She whirled around to face where her phone was laying on the counter and in doing so, finally noticed Matt. Her heart jumped in a brief moment of fear but she quickly realized it was him, and every part of her just sang with joy. Like every time she saw him.

She pushed the headphones off her head so they were around her neck and began moving around the counter to him, "Matt! I thought you had court today?"

"I did," he replied, stepping forward to meet her, hands going out to grab her waist as soon as he was able to. He danced his fingers over the waistband of her shorts, which she had folded a few times to make them even shorter, before tugging her flush against him. "But the court room got flooded and our date changed. Next Monday now."

Sadie looped her arms around his neck, swaying just slightly in his arms, "Do I want to know?"

Matt huffed fondly, "It wasn't my fault, just poor city maintenance."

"You know," she started, fingers tracing up to start scratching at the base of his skull. Matt gave a pleased groan and dipped his head in enjoyment of the touch and the little rant he knew was coming. "If they diverted even two percent of that inflated police budget into city maintenance, things like that wouldn't happen. How many city buildings are past code? So many schools could get updated plumbing and air conditioners, but no the police need another ten-gillion dollars to stand on train platforms and drink coffee."

"I think ten-gillion is underestimating it," Matt hummed. "I think I heard Brett say it's more forty-gillion."

Sadie giggled, pressing herself closer to him, "is there such a thing as a city maintenance vigilante? Instead of fighting crime, you break into buildings and get them up to code? A group of crusaders changing out cloth wiring in the middle of the night?"

Matt tried to imagine it and let out a bark of laughter, "Trying to get the permits would be impossible."

"They're vigilantes, Matt, they work outside the law. No permits or inspections, just passionate people fixing the city," she pushed up onto her toes and kissed the tip of his nose, "Like you."

"Hmm, and you," Matt replied, starting to smile more over the smudge of lipstick now on him, "How'd the food bank go?"

She gave a little shrug, still scratching at the base of his neck, "they said they'd review it in their next meeting. We'd be better off doing it ourselves."

Matt huffed in response, "You can't do everything yourself. You taught me that." He squeezed her hips before stepping back just enough to put their forehead together. He could feel her smiling up at him and took the opportunity to sneak in a quick kiss. "You could teach me something new, though."

Sadie reacted in all the ways he had hoped she would - her heart rate increased and her arousal coated the air around them and her cheeks heated up a fraction from the rush of blood to them. She made a curious little noise in the back of her throat, one most people wouldn't hear, but was so loud in his ears.

"Teach me how to dance?" He asked, dropping his voice and putting a little tease into it.

Sadie was instantly embarrassed, hiding her face against his neck, "Matt…."

He squeezed her hips again, nuzzling into her hair, "Think it should be a hands on lesson. My hands, all over you, feeling how you move."

#soulie writes #fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock #matt murdock x ofc

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goobtacular · 3 months

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Be warned, longish mini essay about the Netflix Daredevil show from someone who hasn't finished season 1.

I think the similarities between Daredevil and Kingpin go hard. Both have very similar motivations and backstories. Ironically, Kingpin has a more traditionally good backstory. His harsh taskmaster was his father, and he rose to defend his mother, killing him in the process. But throughout the whole process, the torment of his father's rule, and dealing with the aftermath, he is in the company of his mother.

There is one thread throughout Wilson Fisk's life: he always has a companion. Not someone who can order him around, not always someone he can order, but always someone he is above in some way, and always someone who plays the role his mother did. Before he meets Vanessa, he has his assistant who chooses his meals, plans his itinerary, and is part of every difficult choice or conversation he must have.

Even Vanessa is, unfortunately, put into that mothering role, playing to the more traditional gender roles and even taking on the burden of the emotional turmoil his troubled past gives him. As long as he has his mother or a replacement, Wilson knows he's not a monster, and he can rationalize any sacrifice, usually on behalf of others. His decision to become a public figure is entirely out of his comfort zone, but also something he wouldn't have done if his assistant and Vanessa hadn't plotted to aid him in his turmoil. Functionally performing emotional labor on his behalf.

Daredevils, Mathew Murdock's, upbringing contrasts this. He had a loving, supportive father who had a violent career. Upon the death of his father to crime, he turns to another, harsher, violent father figure who abandons him when he gets attached. Every time someone fills a paternal role, they leave him. And there seem to have never been any takers for a maternal role. Instead, the influences on his life have always been highly masculine, sometimes soft, but always masculine.

In some respects, it seems as though Matt is a success story for toxic masculinity. He's a superhero and a lawyer, he's exceptionally romantically successful, he never lets anyone in, and he solves every problem as alone as he can with the strength of his body and his moral character. He suffers because of this, but even his downfalls still echo the toxic masculinity that's consumed his life.

But for all that, Matt and Wilson come at it from different angles, paternal and maternal, and they ultimately arrive at the same destination. They're both violent men trying to save Hell's kitchen through violent means. The only difference is the extremes they are willing to go to. And even then, Wilson is quite a bit older than Matt, and I'd be willing to believe a middle-aged Daredevil might kill.

Certainly, Kingpin's methodology is more classically villainous, but it is only Daredevil's superhuman abilities that allow him the moral high ground. They remove his ability to mistakenly target innocents, an advantage Wilson does not have.

It strikes me as interesting that the main difference between the two characters is what flavor of toxicity they were molded by: Wilson by a toxic level of support, by people egging him on when it might be time for introspection and pushing him forward when he turns inward and considers stopping. And Matt, by toxic masculinity, pushing him on even when he really should rest—not providing him the support he needed to heal from the trauma of his father's death or Stick's abandonment or even the emotional toll his vigilante career took. Forcing him to bottle everything up and 'stay strong' not to disappoint others, mostly Stick.

That's why I think, ultimately, neither should be doing what they're doing. Kingpin for, I think obvious reasons, he's doing just real bad stuff with vaguely good intentions, and Daredevil for less apparent reasons. He is doing good, and as Matt, I think his choices are solid, but as Daredevil, he's straight up using beating up people as a way to deal with his trauma. It's incredibly unhealthy and even if the violence doesn't take him out, he's still leaning on it to support him emotionally. I fear he can't stop, even if he wanted to. After all, if he did, he'd have to face his demons like the rest of us.

They're just two men running from their problems, and I guess I can't fault them for that. Wouldn't all of us if we could?

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tgmsunmontue · 4 months

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It's all academic darlin' PART 6/10

12k+ Hangster AU. Updating 2-3 parts per week and will be finished by 14th January 2024. (Each part is ~1500 words).

Bradley is a professor but living his best life with IceMav parents. Jake is a pilot. Maverick sort-of tries (and fails) to play matchmaker, so he tries again. Touch of epistolary and sprinkling of one-sided unknown/mistaken-identity.

For the emails in this part (because bold (Bradley Bradshaw) and italics (Jake Seresin) aren't super obvious) the beginning and ending of emails are also marked with this: <>

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5

Bradley stares at the email and snorts in disbelief. Fucking hell, Mav's right. Alive and breathing and he’ll flirt with it. Though it does make him wonder why Jake didn't flirt with him when they were at the cabin. One word he'd never use to describe Jake Seresin is shy.

<>You’re lucky you’re not one of my students. Pretty sure I’d have to report that email for sexual harassment.<>

<>Lucky for you I’m not. Anyway, you started it.<>

<>Not intentionally. I’ve used that turn of phrase dozens of times before and never had anyone reply like you have. And I’m never going to be able to use it again without thinking it’s inappropriate, so thanks for that.<>

<>I aim to please.<>

<>I’m sure you do.<>

… … …

<>I’m sure you do.<>

Those four little words have Jake taking in a long slow breath, he’s never before realized that flirting through email was something you could do. Makes sense, he’s done it through text messages and apps plenty, and obviously in person, but through email is a new thing. Plus he’s never flirted and not known what the person looked like before, even if they were old pictures on Tinder or Grindr… Apps he never got back around to reinstalling on his phone. He wonders if it’s just the length of time since he got laid that is making him feel… interested. Curious. This flirting is two-way, he hasn’t had the guy give short or sharp replies, he’s humoring Jake. Almost playful.

He’s on a carrier for the next few months, training and upskilling; so he has nothing to lose in emailing this guy. Being flirty. Plus he’ll actually get some answers to his original questions which he sent off earlier. He’s definitely more interested in this than he thought though, wonders if the guy is single. Okay. That’s putting the carriage before the horse, they’re exchanging emails. If it becomes something more than just… light flirting and getting to know each other then he will ask.

… … …

<>So what do you like to do in your down time?<>

<>Well, I have a pretty full schedule. I teach and carry out research, but that’s my job so not down time I guess. But I love it, so it doesn’t exactly feel like work. Outside of my paid hours of work I do… well. Everything? I love trying new things, sometimes the more dangerous the better. I do rock climbing at least twice a week, hiking, do some jet skiing, water skiing, snowboarding. Picked up all the winter sports when I lived in Sweden. Plus my dad is a freaking daredevil and adrenalin junky so he’s always finding ways to do stupid shit. Usually drags me along. I go out to a quiz night with my postgrad students and some colleagues. What about you?<>

<>You mean the very little leave I have? I usually spend it with friends and doing whatever they want to do. I’ve started enjoying hiking a bit more, like keeping active. I love my job too, feel very lucky to get to fly and get paid for it.<>

… … …

<>Favorite type of music?<>

<>Country. Can take the Texan out of Texas, but you can’t take the country lovin’ out of the Texan. You?<>

<>I’ve yet to hear music I don’t like. But I’m a fan of things I can sing along to. I’m constantly singing, people say they can hear me before they can see me.<>

Jake rubs his eyes, feels like he’s making connections where they don’t exist. Lots of people like singing along to music. And Bradley is a common name. In the beginning some of the emails do actually go into the work Bradley does, and he gets more articles to read. He’s got a much better grasp of materials science now, and he re-reads the original article Mav gave him and it’s fascinating now, rather than being slightly interesting.

… … …

<>So how long is your deployment and what are you up to? If you can share it.<>

<>Unless something comes up I’ve got three months left of what is a seven month deployment. And I’m a naval aviator. Recently been doing nothing but night landings, which I have to admit has to be my least favorite thing to do. Nothing like taking off from a carrier though.<>

<>My dad was a naval aviator. A RIO.<>

<>Does he still fly?<>

<>No. He died when I was small. Training exercise actually, so you be safe out there.<>

<>Always.<>

Bradley stares at the screen in front of him, thinks about Mav telling him that Jake saved his life and what kind of fucked up mission apparently made him an Ace. Knows his mom didn’t want him joining any of the armed forces, but he doesn’t know how she’d feel about him wanting to… date one. Obviously exchanging some emails isn’t dating, but he still feels like he’s laying groundwork for something and it’s a little unsettling. But his life is so heavily intertwined with the defense force, he understands the ebb and flow and nature of work. Has to accommodate it often enough with his own research.

Also, he’s not sure, but he gets the feeling that Jake has forgotten that they’ve met. He knows now that Jake was dealing with concussion when they met, so he’s wary about reminding him. He’s been there; both the dealing with a concussion and dealing with Mav playing a bit free and easy with personal medical details. Regardless, being reminded you’ve forgotten shit and not remembering just makes you feel like shit so he just… ignores it. He doesn’t mention Mav, wouldn’t have mentioned Ice anyway, and just refers to his ‘dad’ to sort-of describe his dad, Mav, and Ice, even if it might get confusing if Jake picks up on it.

He takes the email communication as the opportunity it is though, to get to know Jake without the idea that he needs to portray any particular type of image. He’s going to ask all the questions which have crossed his mind in the last few months. Okay. Maybe not all of them…

… … …

<>Do you like cooking?<>

<>Yeah, definitely. I don’t get much opportunity though. My gran taught me. I like the meditative nature of a lot of the works. Like kneading dough, julienning vegetables, finely dicing things… that’s one of my happy places. What about you?<>

<>Yeah, I love cooking too. I totally get what you mean about it being meditative, takes you out of other thoughts and makes you focus. Also I love cooking for others. I’m told it’s one of my love languages.<>

… … …

<>You ever wonder what your life would be like if you took a different path? I think about it sometimes, if I'd studied something different, or followed my dad despite my mom pretty much expressly forbidding me to do so...<>

<>I'd be on my family ranch. Or in the airforce. I like my life though, wouldn't want to change much. <>

<>No regrets then?<>

<>A few. But I wouldn’t be the man I am today without them so not really.<>

… … …

<>Sorry this can’t be longer – I’ve got a pile of marking and then I’ve got to get to my dad’s for dinner. Weekly dinner cannot be missed upon pain of death, even if right now it’s a choice between undergraduate essays and dinner with the parentals.<>

Jake frowns, he’s certain Bradley had said previously that his dad had died when he was young. Must be a step-dad or something. The emails haven’t remained super flirty, but there’s definitely been comments here and there. One email confirming he’s single, which Jake had tucked away; felt encouraged that this was going somewhere and he feels weirdly invested in just where that somewhere might be. The emails have made the weeks flow quickly, the constant communication back and forth has just felt… good. Bradley has made him laugh, and challenged him to think about technical shit which he’d never done before. He’s still been working out and socializing plenty, but for fifteen to thirty minutes a day he spends reading and writing to Bradley and he’ll be back within six days and Bradley’s last line in his email has his heart skipping a beat and then going double time.

<>If my dates are right, then the GW gets in this week. How do you feel about catching up over a drink?<>

<>Before or after the hands-on experience and private tour?<>

He’s more confident this time that he’s going to get a positive answer, not the original dread after his first flirty email months ago. He does indeed get in this week, and for once he might have plans which aren’t with friends or family. He sends a quick email to his brother and sister, letting them know he’ll come and visit after he’s been back at least a week, which is his usual practice anyway.

… … …

<>So the easiest thing, for an ACTUAL tour of the labs, is for you to come to the University. I finish teaching at 3 on Friday, so can show you around then. Just come to the engineering office and I’ll swing by. Then we can discuss the hands-on experiences. You want my number?<>

<>You have a functioning phone?<>

<>Harsh. Here’s my number anyway. I’ll try and keep my phone safe.<>

What the fuck.

That’s just… it’s too much of a coincidence now. Jake scrunches his face and wonders if he’s maybe still just trying to make connections where there aren’t any. Is it all wishful thinking on his part? There just seems to be more and more mounting evidence though. It started off with a couple of things that made him wonder. It’s been too long now to ask outright, but he’s put the pieces together. Bradley Bradshaw is also somehow Bradley Mitchell and a part of him doesn’t want to ask. Can’t ask now that it’s been four months of emailing back and forth. He grabs his phone, most of the contacts are callsigns or emojis, and he decides to go with the theme and puts a little rooster emoji and he opens up the notes app. Wants to list things manually.

He likes singing to music.

He may or may not have a functioning phone. Again?

He’s a navy brat, which any kid of Mav’s would be.

Except he said his dad died in a training exercise…

Mav gave me the article.

Okay.

He cracks his knuckles and searches for Bradley Bradshaw again. Pictures of the Bradley who he thinks of as Mav’s son come up again, but this time he does some actual digging, clicking through links to conferences featuring keynote speaker profiles and it has actual photos. Definitely photos of Bradley Bradshaw, his name under the photo and everything. So Bradley Bradshaw and Bradley Mitchell are the same person and he’s coming to grips with that, because Mav gave him the article. He goes back and adds a row of exclamation points with a few question marks to help convey his confusion. What did Mav mean by giving him the article? What is he missing? Is he missing anything? Is he reading too much into this? He tugs at his hair in frustration.

Wait.

He goes back through the emails and there, Bradley says his dad was a naval aviator. Well, he guesses Mav was one too, even… but no. Bradley said his dad died during a training exercise. Something is tickling in the back of his mind and he logs in to the naval database, types in the name Bradshaw and there it is. There’s a fucking family resemblance to write home about, holy shit. He falls down a little rabbit hole of enquiry and finds out the history of Nicholas Bradshaw and Peter Mitchell and he knows now, 99.99% that Bradley Bradshaw is also Mav’s son. He puts all his email interactions with Bradley into perspective and yeah, they’d definitely been flirting and getting to know each other really well. He’s shared some things with Bradley which only Javy or his siblings know.

Also Bradley’s hot, even with the shirts and bad moustache and now that he knows what Bradley Bradshaw looks like, knows what he looks like shirtless chopping wood, or stripping off after a run, or explaining how the pump system works… Fucking hell, of course he knows shit about stuff like that, he’s an engineer. He said he was a teacher. And he loves music, and flying and can cook… He goes back to Rate my Professor and rereads them with new eyes and huh, okay, yeah, it all tracks.

Okay. They’ve arranged to meet and then… go from there. He’s not naïve enough to know drinks could mean anything, because Bradley Bradshaw for sure as hell knew who he was talking to the whole time. It does raise a different question in Jake’s mind though.

Did he think Jake knew who he was talking to?

PART 7

#Hangster #Top Gun Maverick fanfiction #Sereshaw #rooster x hangman #It's all academic darlin'

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