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shiorimakibawrites · 3 months

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The Accident (Part I of Happy Little Accident)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem! Reader Word Count: 7, 368 Summary: You tripped in the elevator and covered your neighbor in paint. Your ridiculously hot neighbor that you have an enormous crush on. Warning(s): Anxiety, Female Gaze, Referenced Sex, Referenced Character Death, Reference to assumed Attempted Murder, Thoughts about sex Happy Little Accident Masterlist My Masterlist Tag List: @loves0phelia

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The Accident

You were painting in Central Park when your phone rang. You let out an irritated huff as you fished your phone out of your apron’s pocket and looked at the caller ID. Abby, your boss at the Daily Grind. It was tempting to ignore the call, pretend like you had forgotten your phone. Very tempting. It was a lovely spring day, one you would much rather spend painting than working. But in the end the knowledge that Abby wasn’t prone to bothering her employees during their off hours without a good reason had you accepting the call.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” Abby said, sounding apologetic. “Can you cover for the afternoon shift today? Peter is in the hospital.”

“The hospital?!” you repeated, feeling immediately concerned. “What happened? Is he okay?”

Peter was one of the cafe’s newer employees. You didn’t know him very well yet but he seemed like a nice kid. If a little absentminded, given how often he arrived for his shift at a rush. And possibly even more clumsy than you are since you had often seen him with bruises which he claimed were the results of tripping over things.

Assuming he wasn’t lying about how he had gotten hurt. Which you thought that he was . . . some of those injuries didn’t look like they had came from a fall . . . It worried you. It worried others at the cafe too. Abby wasn’t usually so forgiving of such frequent tardiness and absences.

“He got hit by a car. Claims that he’s only got minor injuries but the hospital doesn’t want to discharge him without running some tests first. So can you come in today?”

You suppressed the urge to sigh. You didn’t want to sent the wrong message. Because you weren’t actually annoyed with Abby or Peter but the situation. These things happen. Sometimes people got hurt or got sick. And when they did, someone didn’t get their day off. Today was simply your turn.

And well . . . it wasn’t like you couldn’t use the money.

“I’ll be there.”

“Thanks! You’re a lifesaver!”

You ended the call and slipped your phone back into your apron before starting to gather up your things. Your newly acquired shift started at three. It was only a little after noon, plenty of time to get back to your apartment and get ready, but you didn’t like rush. Rushing tended to make you even more of a klutz.

You swirled the used brushes in the water jar, trying to get as much paint off of your brushes before rolling them in a small towel. A second towel, already stained with old paint, was used to wrap up your palette. The paint was thrown back into their carrying box. Which was technically a small tackle box but you had repurposed it for art supplies. The box went into the bottom of your tote bag along with the water jar, double checking that lid was screwed on tightly. You didn’t need to ruin another sketchbook. You squeezed your current sketchbook behind the tackle box. Next went your pencil case, followed by the towels and their respective cargo. Now the only thing left was your painting and the portable easel.

You removed the painting from the easel, careful to avoid the spots where the paint had spilled over onto the tacking edge. Your fingers already had enough paint on them. The painting was propped against a tree, fingers crossed for two things. One that the wind wouldn’t pick up and send your painting flying. And two, a police officer wouldn’t start yelling at you for it. You didn’t think using the tree as a momentary support while you packed up violated any park rules but you weren’t entirely sure. You had read the park rules but they were written like a legal document . . . which it probably was . . . but that made you feel like you probably weren’t understanding it right. After all, you weren’t a lawyer.

Luck seemed to be with you. You were able to get easel broken down and put away without incident. You swung your bag into your shoulder before picking up your painting. After making sure you had a good grip on the stretcher and the tacking edge, you took a quick look around to make sure you weren’t forgetting anything. Then you started making your way home.

Your lucky streak continued. You didn’t drop anything. No one dumped into the wet canvas or you while you were walking. The subway was busy as usual but not packed to the gills. Your feet resisted the urge to get tangled up in some random piece of debris. Or your own feet. Or the absolutely nothing that you somehow managed to trip over sometimes . . .

In hindsight, you should have realized that it was too good to last.

Things began to go awry when you were waiting for the elevator to arrive. You looked down and saw a tube of paint in your aprons’ pockets instead of the tackle box where it belonged. Normally, you’d shrug and try to remember to put it away later but it looked like the cap hadn’t been screwed back on correctly. Your frown deepened after you transferred your painting to one hand and realized that the cap was loose. Loose enough that it was a minor miracle that it hadn’t fallen off somewhere between the park and here . . . you hoped the paint hadn’t gotten dried out . . .

You heard the elevator dings its arrival as you pulled the paint out of your pocket. Trying to one-handedly shift the tube so its cap could be gripped between your fingers and twisted close, you didn’t look when you heard the elevator door slide open. You just moved forward. And immediately tripped over . . . something . . . you had no idea what.

You just knew that you were falling, that you had lost your grip on your painting as your hands instinctively rose to protect your head from the oncoming impact. An impact that never came. Someone caught you before you could hit the floor. Unfortunately the hand holding the paint had squeezed down, spraying paint on yourself and the chest of your rescuer.

It was like a train wreck. You didn’t want to look but you always couldn’t tear your eyes away from it. You stared in horror the giant splash in the middle, the magenta color of the paint shockingly bright against the light gray suit, white dress shirt, and blue tie . . . Your eyes darted to the array of smaller droplets that radiated outward like shrapnel . . . you raised your eyes with the growing dread. Because you recognized that suit and tie, that broad chest . . .

Sure enough, when you looked up, you were greeted with the very surprised face of Matt Murdock. You felt your heart sink. Of course it was Matt. It couldn’t have been someone else. Anyone else. Preferably a random stranger that you would never see again. But no . . . it had to be your neighbor. It had to the man you had developed an enormous crush on.

Your face felt like it was on fire. You wanted the earth to open up and swallow you. You wanted to cry. Matt returning your feelings had always been a long shot . . . but now? There was no chance. You had turned out of his nice suits into a terrible Jackson Pollock . . . you were going to be lucky if he ever talked to you again . . .

You don’t know when you started apologizing. One minute, you were frozen in humiliated shock, the next increasingly frantic words started spilling out of your mouth. What words you couldn’t say. You couldn’t hear anything past your heart pounding in your ears . . .

A hand cupping your cheek was so startling that it immediately pierced the panic clouding your mind. Big, warm hand . . . you blinked and realized that someone was speaking to you. A familiar deep, soft-spoken voice . . .

“. . . shh, shh, sweetheart, it’s okay . . .”

Sweetheart?! You would hardly believe your own ears. But that was definitely Matt’s voice, his face that you were looking at, and those oh-so-kissable lips were moving . . .

This wasn’t the first time that Matt had called you sweetheart. He had been doing that since the first time you meet. If literally running into someone counts as meeting them. You would like to say no but it wasn’t like your second encounter with your then new neighbor had gone much better. You weren’t always a klutz around him but your bouts of clumsiness did occurred around him with embarrassing regularity.

And provided he was nearby when it happened, Matt always caught you when you started falling . . . so finding yourself in his arms also happened on a regular basis.

This had some upsides. For one, it gave you an appreciation for how much muscle must be hiding under those suits of his. Because he never had any trouble catching you or helping you get back onto your own feet. There was something very hot about the way he could lift you up like you weighted nothing. For another, he is very warm. Which had been especially nice during the recent autumn and winter months. And he smelled good. Like plain soap, ink, paper, and something woodsy like sandalwood with fainter notes of leather, cooper, and something else familiar but that you couldn’t quite remember what it was or where you had smelled it.

On the downside, you were never in his arms for very long. Certainly not long enough to really enjoy being held by those strong arms. He’d catch you, make sure you were steady on your feet again, then his arms would slide away and he stepped back. Taking all of his warmth and good smells with him. Which was always a little disappointing even if you did appreciated that he didn’t assume that he had permission to hold you longer than was absolutely necessary. And that he didn’t use those moments as an excuse to get handsy. Which you knew some people would have.

Further on the downside, being in his arms for any length of time made it very hard to pretend that he didn’t get you all hot and bothered. That having his warm breath brush against your neck and ear when he said something like ‘Careful, sweetheart’ didn’t make the skin there prickle and the rest of you shudder. Or, last week, when your shirt had gotten ridden up, that feeling those callused fingers against your bare skin didn’t make you shiver. Or the absolute worst, when you had to act like you hadn’t just been touching yourself while fantasizing about him, that you hadn’t just been moaning his name, that being in his arms hadn’t renewed the heat between your legs . . .

Those moments, it was really difficult to stop yourself from doing something crazy. Like ask him if you can find out if those pouty lips are soft as they looked . . . or if how much of that beautiful ass you could fit in your hands . . .

You suppressed the urge to groan. Serena, your best friend in the world, was right. You needed to get laid. Because even at the most embarrassing moments of your life, when you were half-considering changing your name and moving somewhere far away, you still couldn’t keep your mind out of the gutter.

Your imagination was out of control. It kept trying to convince you of the wildest things. Like that there was something more to the way his fingers had rubbed that little sliver of bare skin last week than just some mild curiosity when his hands didn’t encounter the expected shirt material. Or those tightening grips on your waist was anything other than making sure he wasn’t about to drop you. Those moments when his voice went deeper and huskier weren’t due to attraction but Matt was obviously coming down with a cold or something.

You ignored the grumbling inner voice that pointed out, aside from when he had the misfortune to get stuck in the elevator with that guy from the third floor who smelled like he bathed in cheap cologne, you had yet to see Matt so much as sneeze. Or that none of those moments had overlapped with the times Matt had looked ill – tired and moving like his body ached.

You weren’t going to get your hopes up. Matt was way out of your league. So far out that you weren’t even playing the same sport. He was incredibly good-looking, easily one of the most handsome men you had ever meet. You were the textbook definition of Plain Jane. Not ugly but not beautiful either. He was confident, outgoing, and charming. You were anxious, shy, and awkward. He was a lawyer with a successful law firm. You were an artist whose work didn’t sell well enough to make a living off of it. Hence the waitress/barista job at the Daily Grind.

Maybe not the most sensible job choice for a shy klutz but there were only so many options for someone with an art degree. Plus you had been working there since college and Abby had displayed remarkable patience for your clumsiness (and the periodic broken dishes that went with it). Mostly because you were otherwise reliable. And while you would never enjoy making small talk with strangers, you could do with a smile. It helped the majority of the regulars were nice . . .

“Sweetheart?”

Any blood that managed to drain out of your cheeks immediately flooded back. You were really batting a thousand today. First you spray him with paint, then you babble incoherently at him, then you stand there like a moron ignoring him for god only knew how long. If Matt didn’t already think you were awkward and weird, he certainly did now.

“Sorry,” you said, not sure of what to say.

He smiled at you. That sweet one that seemed . . . .dare you say it? . . . fond? Which did nothing to diminish the flush in your face. Neither did the little circles his thumb was rubbing into your right cheek or the reassuring squeeze from the hand at your waist.

He’s just trying to keep me calm, you told yourself sternly. It didn’t mean anything. He just didn’t need you panicking again. Lawyers were busy people. He had probably had things to do and didn’t want to waste anymore time on you.

“And to answer your earlier question, no, I’m not going to sue you.”

You had actually said that? Out loud? You closed your eyes and let out a low groan. Everytime you think this situation couldn’t get more embarrassing . . . that idea of moving some remote mountain which hopefully had no insanely hot lawyers living on it was sounding better and better. The only thing thing that would have been worse was if your word-vomit had decided to detail just how attractive you found him. Then, in addition to everything else today, you’d have to listen to him say ‘I’m flattered but . . .’ while your heart shattered into a million pieces . . .

“Sorry,” you repeated. Because what else you could you say to something like that?

“No need to apologize again, sweetheart,” he said as his hand slide off of your face before joining its fellow in helping you get back on your own feet. Then, as usual, his arms pulled away entirely and he took a small step back. As usual, you told yourself that you weren’t disappointed or felt colder. Both were a lie.

“It was an accident,” he continued. “You said you were sorry. No harm done.”

You couldn’t stop your eyes from flickering around his suit. The mess hadn’t miraculously disappeared. It was still here.

“No harm?” you repeated. “You’ve got magenta splattered all over your suit!”

“Which one is magenta?”

“What?”

“I don’t think I remember what magenta looks like,” Matt said, sounding thoughtful. “Can you describe it for me?”

“Er . . . pink?” you said, trying to think of how to describe it. “This particular shade is darker than bubblegum, more purplish-red? Like some plums just under the skin or a pomegranate?”

“Sounds pretty,” he said. “Foggy has been telling me that I need to wear more color.”

“I think he probably meant new clothes that were different colors, not paint splattered on your existing clothes,” you said slowly, unsure of what to make of this conversation. It was not turning out at all like you would have expected it to.

He grinned. “Most likely but he never actually said clothes. Just more color. He knows better than to leave the terms of a contract that vague.”

While you didn’t know Foggy Nelson very well, you had the feeling he would not be impressed. You had also seem him and Matt needling each other at Josie’s often enough to picture the irritated look he would level at his partner if he returned to work looking like this and tried to make that argument. The image was so absurd that you had to giggle.

“Not sure that is a winning argument, Mr. Murdock,” you said,

“Sure it is,” he said. “Any ambiguity in a contract favors the party that didn’t write it. Foggy wrote the contract without defining his terms. So I am free to interpret those terms as anyone might reasonably expect them to mean.”

Which only made you giggle even harder. He was being so silly. “It’s not very professional?”

“Regretfully, I have to agree,” he said, sounding almost like he genuinely disappointed about that. Provided you couldn’t see the cheeky grin on his face. “Will I need anything special to remove the paint?”

“No,” you said, silently thanking Past You for choosing to work with acrylics today instead of oils. The faded spots the turpentine would leave would be less noticeable than magenta but still probably not something he wanted. Also even the low-odor version didn’t smell good. You didn’t know if there was any truth to that whole ‘blind people’s other senses get stronger’ thing but real or not, Matt seemed to have a pretty sensitive nose. “Acrylics are water-based. As long as it is still wet, warm water and soap is enough.”

“See? No harm done,” he said, giving that flirty smile that always made your heart go pitter-patter. Even when you tried to tell yourself that it didn’t mean anything. Matt was a charming guy who flirted a little with everyone. You had seem him get a little flirty with Mrs. Gonzales, the third resident of the sixth floor. Who was, as she pointedly reminded him, old enough to be his grandmother and scolded him for shameless flattery. She had rolled her eyes a little when he retorted the truth wasn’t flattery but did seem pleased. Pleased enough to make him tamales. Which honestly made you a little jealous. The tamales you had bought from her at during the holidays had been really good . . .

Serena thought Matt wasn’t flirting with you just to flirt. That he actually liked you. But she was your best friend. It was her job to believe that you were wonderful and agree that the hot guy you had a crush on was into you. And if it turned out that he wasn’t . . . well, then he was an idiot wasn’t worth your time. You wanted to believe her . . . you wanted that to true so badly . . .

But you had seen the women Matt used to bring home. And the ones who flirted with him at Josie’s. Beautiful, self-assured women with successful careers. They were everything that you weren’t. Granted, you hadn’t seen one of his paramours leaving or arriving at the building for a while. And the only ones you had seen him leaving Josie’s with lately were his friends.

Or you. Which you refused to read anything into either. Matt just didn’t think you walking home alone at night was safe. And it wasn’t. The Kitchen might have Daredevil, its guardian in red leather, but he couldn’t be everywhere. Couldn’t save everyone through if the rumors were to be believed, it certainly seemed like he tried.

Regardless of his reason, you always ended up agreeing because you were too weak to say no to spending just a little more time with him. And it wasn’t like you were making him go out of his way since you both lived in the same building . . .

The point was that Matt would the same thing for anyone. Even someone who really didn’t need it. Like Jessica Jones. Through he claimed that was just to save himself or Foggy from needing to make another late-night trip to the police station because she had punched some creep into a wall. While he agreed that yes, they deserved it for treating someone like that but the police didn’t see that way, Jessica . . .

“As long as it’s still wet,” you repeated. “It’s harder to remove once its’ dry.”

“How does that take?”

“About half an hour.”

“Good thing I’m so close to home then.” Then he seemed to hesitate. “Can I ask you for a favor?”

“Absolutely,” you said, cringing a little at how eager you sounded. But you had gotten paint all over him. A favor was the least you could do.

“Can you help me get this cleaned up?” he said, gesturing toward the paint. He gave you a self-deprecating smile. “Otherwise I might miss a spot.”

“I can do that,” you said. You had been intending to offer help anyway. You had made the mess. You should help clean it up.

He frowned suddenly, his head tilting to one side. “Are you sure? I’m not keeping you from anything?”

“No,” you said. “I don’t need to be at work until three and it’s . . .”

You tried to check the time on your watch but it had a smear of paint across the face. Unfortunately the hands were hidden by said smear of paint. “Probably not three.”

Matt’s lips twitched. “Problem with your watch?”

“Paint is hiding the hands.”

He gave an amused grin as he ran his fingers around the edge of his watch. “The downside of wearing non-tactile watches. It’s a quarter til one.”

“Plenty of time,” you said. And even if it wasn’t . . . Abby was a reasonable person. She would completely understand not leaving any neighbor, let alone your blind neighbor, to clean this up.

He smiled before reaching down to pick up his fallen cane. You felt your face get warm again. Both because you just realized what you had gotten tripped over (which made you feel like a jerk) and because that action had pulled those trousers taut over his ass (which made you feel . . . other things). But you couldn’t stop yourself from looking. Not when you had a front row seat to one of the best asses in America. Possibly the world.

Matt couldn’t possibly know that you were checking out his ass but that smug little smirk that he flashed in your direction made you feel like he did. You averted your eyes and tried to find a distraction. Before thinking about his ass (or other body parts) got you worked up. More worked up. Which not only would be awkward but make you nervous and prone to say something embarrassing.

Then you remembered your painting. You had dropped it earlier. Where was . . . you let out a distressed groan as you picked it up. The good news was that your painting hadn’t landed paint-side down. Which had saved the mostly dried paint from smearing or chipping. The bad news that hadn’t escaped The Magenta. It didn’t get hit as nearly badly as Matt but there was still a giant splat right in the middle of the lake . . .

“What’s wrong?”

“There is a giant glob of magenta in the middle of the lake,” you said.

“The lake?”

“In my painting,” you said. “I was doing one of the Bow Bridge in Central Park.”

“Can you fix it?”

“Maybe,” you said, looking at the mess and trying to think of how to incorporate the random splatters into the image. You could remove some of it without taking off the underlying layers but not all of it. That would have to be incorporated somehow . . . Maybe a boat? Or a float . . . some of the smaller ones could be turned into leaves if you switched the setting to autumn just as the leaves were turning . . . or a flowering tree with pink blossoms . . .

“We don’t make mistakes, just happy little accidents,” you reminded your inner perfectionist.

“That sounds familiar.”

“It’s something Bob Ross said a lot,” you said. “He was–”

“That guy on PBS who painted the landscapes?” Matt said. “Soft-spoken, sometimes had a squirrel in his pocket and talked about happy trees?”

“That’s the one,” you said. “The Joy of Painting. I watched it religiously as a kid. How about you?”

An odd little smile spread across Matt’s face. “Not often enough to qualify as religious but you could call us regular watchers. My dad wasn’t much of an art guy but he found the show relaxing . . . and it was quiet. I could turn it on in the morning without waking him up after he had worked late.”

He sounded nostalgic, like these were fond memories but also deeply sad. Then you remembered that Matt’s father was dead. Killed when he was a little boy. Which you only knew about because you had once given into temptation and googled Matt Murdock. Most of the search results had been about his law firm and the Castle trial but further down the page, articles about the accident that blinded him and his father’s death had also appeared. But by then, you had felt guilty enough about snooping into his life that you hadn’t read any those of articles beyond their headlines.

“Did you ever try to follow along?” you asked softly.

“A few times with the watercolors from my school supplies,” he said. “I was terrible at it but my dad hung up every picture on the fridge like it was the Mona Lisa.”

“Mine did that too,” you said. “My mom might still have a few of them tucked away with the baby pictures, waiting to embarrass me with them.”

He chuckled. “Did you ever fall asleep watching the show?”

You laughed. “Yes. Usually after I had stayed up too late reading.”

“Same,” he said, then gestured to the control panel. “Shall we go up?”

“Yes, we shall,” you said, a little amazed at how well this was going, despite the mishap. And that the elevator had remained here at the ground floor for this long. Probably it was the middle of the day and therefore most of the other tenants were either at work or school right now. As the elevator rose, you tried to think of something to talk about. You didn’t mind quiet but your earlier anxiety about his reaction had been replaced by your more usual nerves at being around the man you had spent almost half a year pining over.

Nervous You tended to be a chatterbox with chronic foot-in-mouth disease. Nervous You might blurt out that you liked him. Might detail how you wanted to go on dates, snuggle on the couch, hold hands while you took long walks, call each other by cliché nicknames like honey or dear. Basically be one of those disgustingly adorable couples . . . And behind closed doors, mind-blowing sex. The kind of sex that would leave you walking funny with a big smile on your face . . .

That thought alone made your cheeks warm. Among other places. Maybe work? Work should be a safe enough topic. Nothing naughty about work . . .

“What brings you home this early?” you asked, injecting as much cheer as possible in your voice to disguise your nerves. “Does no one need lawyering today?”

He chuckled. “No, we still have plenty of people who needed lawyering. I just forget my phone this morning and this was the first chance I’ve had to retrieve it.”

You hummed in acknowledgment as the elevator dinged your arrival to the sixth floor. The doors slide open and you walked out. Or rather you tried. But apparently you just had no luck with elevators today because you managed to slip on nothing. For the second time today, you started to fall. Only backwards this time.

And despite what happened the last time, Matt still caught you.

“Sorry,” you said, feeling the earlier flush to your cheeks deepen.

“No need to apologize, sweetheart,” he said. “I like having a beautiful girl in my arms.”

Which only made the warmth in your face start to spread down your neck. Even if he didn’t meant it, it was nice to be told that you were beautiful. You couldn’t help liking it. You did your best to ignore the nasty voice in your head – the one that sounded a lot like those awful girls in high school who had bullied you – saying how would Matt even know that you were beautiful or not . . . he was blind . . .

Your more optimistic side – which sounded like Serena – pointed out that for obvious reasons, that Matt was unlikely to find someone attractive based solely on their appearance . . . so maybe he really did find you beautiful . . .

You blamed those pernicious thoughts for making you feel like there was hint of hesitation, of reluctance, in Matt’s hands as they slide back off of your waist once you were standing upright again. But not matter how many times you told yourself that it was just your overactive imagination . . . part of you couldn’t help but hope.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Matt said as you followed him into his apartment. While he disappeared down a hallway, you propped your unfinished painting against a wall before slipping your tote off your shoulder with a sigh of relief. It wasn’t very heavy but those almost falls had jerked it and its contains around, making the straps dig into your shoulder. After sitting down the tote, you prodded the area. It was a little sore but it lacked the tenderness you associated with oncoming bruises.

You walked toward the kitchen and looked around, curious. In some respects, his apartment was a lot like yours. Both displayed the buildings’ previous life as factory in the exposed brick, scuffed hardwood floors, and visible HVAC and pipes. Both had large windows that let in a lot of natural light if even the old glass was a little wavy or different colored. Both had galley-style kitchens and generally open floor plan. Both of you seemed to have opted for a mismatched collection of secondhand furniture in either earth tones or neutral colors. But that was where the similarities ended.

The first and most noticeable difference was size. His was a lot bigger than yours. Which honestly you had expected, knowing very well that your side of the sixth floor had been turned into two units whereas his was left as one. Yours didn’t have access to the roof but in all honesty, you were fine with that. You weren’t afraid of high places in and of themselves but you were afraid of falling from high places. The outside of your windows wasn’t dominated by The Billboard. Which even during the day looked rather bright.

Matt’s apartment struck you as unfinished, like there was something missing but it took you a moment to figure out what. There was nothing decorative. The walls were bare and furniture were bare. It was sharp contrast to your place where the walls had been turned into a gallery for your unsold paintings and the furniture was festooned with the efforts of Serena’s knitting or your embroidery. You wondered if this was due to preference (Matt was simply a minimalist who considered decorative items to be annoying clutter) or to circumstance (Matt hadn’t found anything that he liked yet).

Another difference was the level of tidiness. You weren’t outright messy. You cleaned up after yourself. But there was always a certain amount of controlled chaos. For example, you were just as likely to find your pincushion and scissors on the kitchen table as in the sewing bag where they belonged. Or how your books often ended up stacked on the floor by your reading chair instead of being put back on the bookshelf.

Matt’s place, by contrast, looked very well organized. Everything obviously had a place and was always returned to its spot when not in use. Which made sense when you thought about it. No one wanted to go on a scavenger hunt every time they needed something. And given how busy Matt was, he also didn’t have time to be doing that.

Plus there were things that no one would want to get mixed up. Like grabbing the shampoo bottle when you wanted the mouthwash. Yes, there were other things that would clue him in before he inadvertently washed out his own mouth with soap. But, as your grandmother liked to say, an ounce of prevention was worth a pound of cure.

“Will any soap work?”

You jumped at a little at Matt’s voice. He sounded close. Much closer than you would have thought he could get to you without you noticing. Especially on these old hardwood floors which had so many places that creaked or groaned when stepped on.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s . . .” you started as you turned toward the sound of his voice. And promptly felt your intended words get tangled up in your throat. Your heart began to race as blood rushed back to your cheeks at the sight before you.

Your eyes greedily took in his broad shoulders, then down arms so thick that you doubted that you would be able to fully wrap your hand around it. Back up and across to the well-defined pectorals, then down through to sculpted abdominals until they disappeared into the waistband of his trousers. All covered in a skin that looked like it was as soft as satin.

You swallowed hard. You had known for a while that Matt had some muscle. He had saved you from your own clumsiness too often for you not to know that. But this . . . you had no idea he was hiding all this under those fancy suits of his . . . It was like someone had brought the statue of a Greek god or Michelangelo’s David to life . . . and then someone had apparently convinced him to put on pants. Whoever that idiot was should be fired . . . because if the rest of him looked this good . . .

“Sweetheart?”

Once again, you jumped at his voice. You raised your eyes up to his face. Your breath caught for the second time. Because Matt wasn’t wearing his dark glasses. You had never seen him without those glasses. Predictably, his eyes were just as pretty as the rest of him. Big, brown eyes sparkling with amusement and confidence. It matched that cocky little smirk he was sporting. The same one he had given you earlier. Only this time, you were positive that he knew that you were staring.

But it was so hard not to . . . he was so beautiful . . . it filled with you competing urges. The artist longed for your drawing pencils and a couple of hours to sketch. You weren’t sure you had the talent to fully capture his beauty but you would love to try. The woman, however, wanted him to fuck you. For him be inside you. Cock, fingers, tongue . . . your cunt didn’t care which. Any or all of them would do.

Watching that pink tongue dart out from between those oh-so-kissable lips before disappearing back inside his mouth did nothing to quell your arousal. Nor did the almost hungry look in his eyes. All it did was make you think about all things a man could do with his tongue if he was so inclined . . .

You dug your hands into your jeans to keep them to yourself. Silently you reminded yourself why you had to control the later impulse. First – Matt wasn’t your boyfriend. He was your neighbor and maybe a friend. Second – even if you were his lover and consented to having sex, neither of you had time today. He needed to go back to his office and you had to be the cafe at three. Abby would understand you being late because you were helping Matt clean up The Magenta. She would be far less sympathetic toward hanky-panky induced tardiness. So as much as you would like him to bend you over his kitchen table, you had to ignore that particular desire.

As for the artistic urge . . . since he didn’t seem to hate you for The Magenta, maybe he would agree to model for you? And you were friends of a sort. Friends could ask friends to model for them, right?

“L-liquid soap,” you said, doing your best to sound normal instead of incredibly turned on. “I-I found it easier to work with when cleaning up paint.”

Matt didn’t look like he was convinced by your non-existent acting skills. But he went along with the change of subject. Then gave you another heart attack by revealing that his shirt and tie were silk while his jacket was wool with a silk lining. You had no idea how to clean paint off of those without damaging them . . . isn’t stuff like that dry clean only?

The answer was yes and no. The shirt was made of a type of washable silk that he could launder at home – on the gentle cycle with mild soap. The suit and the tie, however, were both dry clean only. But Matt knew how to prevent stains from getting set in his fancy clothes and you knew how to handle paint. Between the two of you, you worked a plan that should get the paint off while preventing damage to his clothes.

Using an old gift card that you used as a painting tool as a scrapper, you removed the bulk of the paint from the tie and jacket while Matt used his bottle of liquid dish-soap and water to wash his shirt in the sink. Then, you dampened a white washcloth with lukewarm water, added a tiny amount of the soap, before dabbing the affected areas. Before dabbing again with a separate cloth that was just dampened with water, then carefully blotting with another washcloth that was completely dry.

You tried to keep your mind on the task in front of you but kept getting distracted. By his . . . everything. You wanted to trace every muscle with your fingers. Or your tongue. Either would be enjoyable. Or both. Both was good . . . the only thing that wasn’t making you press your thighs together in an effort to relieve the ache in your cunt were the scars.

Not because you thought his scars were ugly. The scars were like kintsugi. The healed but visible damage made the person more beautiful, not less. But because the scars worried you. It looked like someone had tried very hard to kill Matt.

You hadn’t realized that being a lawyer was so dangerous . . . but then, Nelson & Murdock had gone up against some powerful people. People like Fisk. Had Fisk or someone like him sent someone after Matt? You glanced at his hands. He had the same calluses on his knuckles as your ex who was a boxer. Did Matt know how to box? Was that how he had survived the obvious attempt on his life?

You were curious but realized that some of the answers you wanted might require a lengthy conversation. Which you didn’t have time for. Assuming Matt was even willing to answer those questions. He might not be. Which was fine. Trauma was rather personal and you didn’t really know each other.

You returned to your task. Despite your frequent distraction, soon the clothes were cleaned to the best of your ability. All three items were hung on hangers to dry in the case of the shirt or await a trip to the dry cleaners for the other two. Something that you offered to pay for.

“No need for you to do that, sweetheart. It’s about time for that suit to go to the cleaners anyway.”

“But it’s my mess,” you protested.

You didn’t win the argument. But it wasn’t a fair fight. First, he was a lawyer. He argued with people for a living. You painted or served food and drinks. Second, he still hadn’t put on a shirt. It was very distracting. And he knew it. His opposition in court was so lucky that he had to keep all his clothes on in the courtroom. Otherwise, they’d might never win.

“Stupid, sexy Murdock,” you muttered quietly under your breath as you washed your brushes and palette. Not quietly enough because he laughed.

“I’m sexy?” Matt asked. Warmth flooded your face. Judging by that cocky smirk, he knew the answer to that question. Yes, absolutely yes. But you were absolutely not going to say that.

“I plead the Fifth,” you said. Which only made him laugh harder.

He opened his mouth, probably to tease you some more, when his phone started ringing out, “Foggy, Foggy, Foggy.”

“Sorry, I’ve got to take this,” he said.

“Go ahead,” you said quickly.

He flashed you a smile before answering his phone with a “What’s up, Fogs?”

You put away your things while Matt talked to his partner. From the sound of it, he was explaining why retrieving his phone was taking so long. A check on your watch – now cleaned of paint – warned you that you really needed to leave now if you wanted to be ready for work on time. You swung your tote up onto your shoulder.

Then found yourself in a quandary. It was rude to interrupt someone while they were on the phone but it was also rude to leave without saying good-bye. But it wasn’t like you could go just wave good-bye.

“Matt?” you called out.

“Hang on Foggy,” he said, pulling the phone away from his ear. “Yes, sweetheart?”

“I’ve got to go,” you said. “I’ll see you later?”

“You’ll have to. I can’t.”

For a moment, that answer confused you. But only for a moment. Blind joke. Not the first one he had made around you. It wouldn’t be the last. He seemed rather fond of them. Well, it was his disability. It certainly wasn’t your place to tell him that he couldn’t make jokes about it if he wanted to.

Besides sometimes the looks on people’s faces when he made them were very funny.

“Left myself wide open for that one, didn’t I?” you said.

“Yep,” he said. He looked very pleased with himself. “But yes, I’ll see you later.”

That made you smile. “Bye, Matt.”

“Bye, sweetheart,” he said before returning to his phone call. You closed the door to his apartment as quietly as you could, then made you way across the hall toward your own apartment. Time get for work.

Step one – a cold shower.

Notes

There are portable easels that are designed to be collapsed down and easily carried. I have one. Some of them come with an attached box that is meant to carry paint, brushes, and whatever else you need but that type is more expensive (about 70 dollars on the cheaper end) than one that is just the easel (which is about 20). Reader has a limited art budget and those fifty bucks she didn’t spent on an easel can buy a lot of paint and canvas.

I’ve found that tackle boxes and tool boxes make great carrying cases for arts and crafts supplies. The divided trays are very useful if the creative thing you are doing involves a lot of little pieces or tools like beading or jewelry making.

Reader took the subway for part of her journey because, according to what I could find, getting from Hell’s Kitchen to Central Park via subway takes about 14 minutes while walking that same distance would take about 40 minutes. So the subway it was.

Magenta is, generally speaking, purplish red color. The shades vary between more pink, more red, or more purple. Even paint doesn’t always agree. I have one set on acrylic paints that labels a color as ‘light magenta’ while a different set calls the same color ‘magenta’ and third just says ‘pink.’

Jackson Pollock (1912 – 1956) was an American artist who was part of the abstract expressionist movement. He is best known for his ‘drip’ technique where he would pour or splash liquid house-paint with frenetic movement onto the canvas which was laying flat on the floor. In some ways, his work reminds me of acrylic pouring which looks very cool but also very messy.

I mean no disrespect to those with an art degree. I started off majoring in fine arts and part of me wishes that I had stuck with it despite the challenges. One of my professors recommended getting your masters if you were going to major in art simply because then you could get teaching jobs in many places.

That contract thing is true but I’m not a lawyer and have never taken Contracts 101. Always get your legal advice from actual lawyers.

Turpentine is used to clean paint brushes and other tools when using oil paint. A low odor version is highly recommended but remember to only use it in a well-ventilated place as the fumes are toxic. It is also very flammable. You can use it to get oil paint off of your skin but it is very drying and probably isn’t be safe to use on places like your face. The skin there easily absorbs things (which is the primary reason that make-up has go through FDA approval).

For the record, blind people don’t have better senses than everyone else. They just pay more attention to the information from their other senses provide, things that us sighted people tend to ignore. And arguably have more practice identifying different sounds, smells, etc than someone who largely ignores that input.

While I cannot say that this happens in NYC, as I have never lived there, where I grew up (American southwest) and where I live now (Florida), the grandmas and aunties in the Latin community make and sell tamales during the winter holiday season. Maybe for some extra spending money for said holidays. In my experience, they are always excellent. I almost don’t consider it Christmas without some tamales.

The reason Reader feels like a jerk for tripping over Matt’s cane is that messing with someone’s mobility aid and/or not giving them enough space to use it is a dick move.

The Bow Bridge is a bridge in Central Park. You have probably seen it before since it is pretty popular for movies and television. Probably because it looks perfect for your sappy romantic moments, dramatic love confession, meet-cutes, etc. It also helps that it looks just as nice surrounded by leafy trees as it does covered in snow.

Bob Ross (1942 – 1995) was an American painter who was the host of an instructional art show called The Joy of Painting, which aired from 1983 until 1994, on PBS (public broadcasting station) in the US but also in similar public stations around the world. You can find the episodes on YouTube.

According to the internet, you can spot clean wool, silk, and other such fabrics like how Reader does without damaging the fabric. But it was the internet so take that with a generous portion of salt.

Yes, I do use an old gift card when I paint. To make smallish straight lines, very handy for fences and rain effects. I cannot speak for every artist but my painting tools aren’t limited to brushes and painting knives.

Kintsugi (“golden joinery”) is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with lacquer that has been dusted or mixed with gold, silver, or platinum. The point is not to hide the damage but highlight it, to treat the breakage and repair as simply part of the object’s history. And that having such a history makes it more valuable, not less.

#fan fic #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem! reader #matt murdock x you #happy little accident series

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neth-cactus · 3 months

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iiiii ummm uhhh little drawings from the fic cus i fixated on my own writting jabsjwhdhe i have a looot to talk about so i will do it under the cut, the fic link will also be here

my girly pop, its weird posting stuff on ao3 but like shes there, the whole fic is me posting random little stuff i wrote on a whim so it will be noticeable dhbfjsjd also warning I might have made everyone a biiit out of character so im kinda sorry lols

now for fun notes and stuff about the chapters i did not add to the end notes

"The sun shines bright" not much to not other than after this clover's hand hurt for like a day and flowey bullied the peck out of them,,, also this is the only time flowey calls clover an idiot on this fic

"The flower pot incident" after the end clover spends like 10 minutes explaining everything about flowey, but he explains it like a little kid would, making it confusing as hell, so ceroba gives up and just like pats him and tells them to be good or smth, it was the same with everyone else

also bad quality comic of how the pot came to be

"What kind of milk were you?" the song came in as i was finishing the chapter and it fitted so well i named the chapter after it, as i mentioned it was me like poking gently to clover's life before the underground, his thought process was mostly thinking marlet was angry at them over doing the dishes in "secret" idk how to explain it but yeah :( poor little fella, also as noted at the end, flowey observed all happening and just like kept in mind

"Sewing back the pieces" I loved imagining how clover's room looked, and i had to include it, more joking around from the best friends, id like to think clover knows how to sew but they are just a bit clumsy with the needle, also those things are slippery...

"The calm before the mall" I feel proud about the title pun(? but this is also what i kind of meant with flowey keeping things on mind, by the time of this chapter a bit of time has passed of them living with humans, and flowey knows how stuff can be and how clover is a biiit shy so thats why the warning was persistent, it didnt work but meh

"Fertilizer is a fun word" IT IS A FUN WORD i love writing it lol, but seriously, i tried exemplifying more the thing of clover not speaking a lot so flowey does most of the talking for them, they do speak a bit but its short sentences and very quietly,

"You are just a boy, you are no man" this one will be long again the song fitted and it came on while writing the middle lol, clover does not know very well about the whole story with chara, but they do know that buttercups are meaningful in some sort of way for flowey so thats why they picked them, now is fun to note that the comments about their friends being monsters did bother clover but the one comment that like spilled the cup was the age one, that one hit deep and thats why they reacted that way, also the amount of people did not bother clover that much when they arrived but like the panic and stuff made them very aware of everyone around and med everything worse so ye, lastly, another time flowey calls someone idiot, this time dalv (sorry king)

i think thats all, if there's a specific choice yall are curios about feel free to tell me :3 i will probably have an answer for it

#neth draws #neth rambles #this post deserves it loll #undertale yellow #undertale yellow clover #undertale yellow flowey #undertale yellow dalv #undertale yellow starlo

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embervolkan · 1 year

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Ello poppets.Thought I’d make a Second part to my very first little writing piece of Mr Undertaker.

Here’s the first part if you wish to read it. https://www.tumblr.com/embervolkan/712623081253994496/thought-id-give-this-writing-stuff-a-try-and-what?source=share

Hope you enjoy <3

Love for the Wilting Lily

18 +

Smoke was a common smell when you’re in the city. Along with the smell of fresh bread, gas from the local factories. Even the small fragrance of flowers and produce from the local markets.

Colorful stands of produce and more filling the streets. The warmth of the sun painting the streets and whole city. To think it had been a few days since the sun was ever truly out like this. Sunny, breezy, warm London.

Y/n looked up at the sky as they walked the streets of the city. Their basket held close to their chest. The noise around them almost muffled as they watched the clouds. Their clumsiness however snapping them back into reality as they scanned the shops.

When working, Y/n never really ventured out like this often. Only the days Undertaker needed more supplies and food for the week. Was never often it was this nice when Y/n was out and about. More importantly, it was never this relieving to be out.

Y/n touched their lips gently. A small sigh escaping them, remembering what had happened the other day. The way Undertakers lips felt on theirs. The way he held them, the way his hands trialed up and down their body. The way he said their name, the way his green eyes glowed so beautifully.

They couldn’t help but blush more, their eyes trailing the ground. It was almost like it was a dream that y/n was awaken from, but Y/n eventually awoke as loud commotion was heard from afar.

Y/n sighed deeply, Their eyes lazily looking up as people passed. Their voices muffled. A small hum escaping y/n’s lips as they saw the crowd of people gathered near something or someone.

Y/n raised en eyebrow going towards them. Overhearing the locals, the whispering and cries.

“ Another victim of Jack the Ripper”

“ Poor girl, who could ever do this”

“ Definitely got a kick out of this one I bet, poor thing”

Their voices drifted once more as the crowds whispers and mumbles became almost louder as the police ushered them to step back. Y/n Took this as a sign to get going as they glanced at the body once more before walking away

Y/n hummed as they continued to walk, the sun still out as a soft breeze blew. The scene from earlier playing in their mind as their thoughts were quite loud.

Their eyes caught the bright colors of the spring plants. The thoughts Y/n had fading away as they turned to see the stands, the soft and fragrant smell of the freshly cut flowers filling the air.

Their hands gently touched the soft petals of the flowers as Y/n blushed softly, “ Lilies .. lilies are so beautiful”

“Indeed” a familiar voice said as Y/n froze. Slowly turning around as her eyes met those emerald eyes.

“U-undertaker-“

“Lilies, a sign of rebirth some say” He grabbed one as he gently placed it in Y/ns silky hair. A smile appearing as he bent his head down more, his fingers gently grazing their cheek with a chuckle, “Also can mean … innocence… purity ..”

Y/n looked away as their face flushed. His fingers tickling their skin as they cleared their throat looking at him with a small smile, listening to him, unable to say words, “ Some also say they also represent mourning and grieving when given to the dead” Undertaker said In his raspy tone as his fingers touched the petals of the flowers on the display table behind them, “Seems I got your tongue poppet”

“I-I …. I didn’t expect you to be out today that’s all-“

“Didn’t expect me to see you out in public on such a lovely day? ..not to mention …” He tilts his head slightly with a smile as his eyes gazed into theirs

“ You look lovely poppet, so much difference out here then in there”

“Y-you mean in the shop?”

Undertaker laughed quietly as he nodded before taking their hand, twirling them softly, “ It’s always a refreshing feeling seeing the person you’ve grown close with show these kinds of things about themselves, don’t you agree?”

Y/n nodded slowly as they looked away with a deep blush, their hands softly letting go of his quickly. Undertaker raised an eyebrow before grabbing their hand again pulling them close to him, his hand holding their face, his other holding their hand.

“ can’t forget about the other day can you doll”

Y/n gasped as they looked up at him with a stutter, “W-what?! What makes you s-say that-“

Undertakers giggle turned into a loud laugh as Y/n scoffed pushing him away with a huff, “ Tease …” they pouted.

“ Oh my, you do know how to get an oldman to laugh his poor heart out”

Y/n rolled their eyes as they turned around looking at the flowers once more, their face still red as they placed their hand on the table. Soon being grazed by Undertakers fingers

His body pressed onto theirs as his chest laid on their back, his left hand trialing underneath Y/ns clothing, his fingers caressing their stomach with a tickle.

His right hand, gently laying on Y/ns hand, his thumb rubbing the back of their hand.

A shiver went through Y/ns body as they bit their lip, their body becoming hot as Undertaker laid his head on their shoulder, “ I haven’t forgotten how your lips feel Poppet, or how your skin feels”

His left hand trials up more as Y/n gasps covering their mouth as they look to see the people passing by, “ N-not here .. please”

Undertaker quickly brought his hand out as he turned Y/n around with a smile, still holding them close, “ Embarrassed to be in public with someone like me?”

“What .. No! Never!” Y/n yelled before covering their mouth embarrassed, “ I just … I just would want .. to be in a private space .. with you .. that’s all”

Undertaker smirked as he laughed quietly letting go of Y/n as he grabbed a bouquet of flowers looking back at y/n, tossing them gently to them, “ Then shall we?”

—

“ I think I’m in the mood for pasta wouldn’t you agree poppet”

Undertakers voice echoed inside the shop as Y/n sat in their desk. Both of them just coming back from the shopping trip.

It was .. strange In a good way as Y/ns blushed face turned to the sound of his voice, “ Yes .. that does sound lovely”

“come, why don’t you help me with the sauce”

Y/n got up as they walked to the small kitchen, seeing the vegetables they had just gotten on the cutting board, Y/n stood next to Undertaker as they began to cut some of the vegetables. Undertaker humming and giggling as he worked on the pasta

“Today was a good day” undertaker said with a small chuckle, the flour on his hands dusting the counter the more he moved.

Y/n blushed more as they smiled gently, “ why’s that”

“Got to spend it with you of course”

Undertaker didn’t hesitate those words as he dusted himself gently and playfully poking Y/ns cheek, “ Don’t believe me?”

Y/n Huffed wiping their cheek with a grin, grabbing some of the flour nearby throwing it into Undertakers face, “ No.. I don’t think I do”

Undertaker was speechless as he coughed rubbing his face gently trying to get the flour off. Y/n laughed as they moved back with some flour still in their hand, “ Who’s got your tongue now-“

Y/n Yelled with a laugh as they felt Undertaker pick them up, walking them to the table.

Undertaker laid them down on the table with a mischievous smile pinning them down, “ You’re gonna pay for that”, his hands moved to Y/ns sides quickly, tickling them as Loud laughter started to fill the room. Y/n was practically crying tears of laughter as they tried their best to push him off.

“Alright! Alright!” Y/n laughed as Undertaker joined in with their laughter.

Y/ns face was flushed as their eyes closed softly catching their breath, their cheeks almost glowing as Undertaker looked down at them with glowing eyes. His lips parted slightly as his heart skipped a beat.

The way Y/ns flushed face looks right now, the way their laughter is still trailing. He couldn’t help but blush softly, his hands moving to Y/ns face.

Y/ns eyes opened as their smiled stayed seeing Those emerald eyes again, their heart beating fast in their chest as Undertakers face moved close to theirs

“undertaker ..” Y/ns voice was breathless as they brought their hands to his face, his eyes widening a bit feeling the sensation of Y/ns hands.

Everything moved so slow as he closed his eyes, his lips crashing into theirs. Y/n moaned softly out of surprise, their hands trialing to his neck.

Undertaker couldn’t hold back anymore, the sight he had just seen made his heart flutter and ache with a feeling he didn’t know he could feel.

His tongue entered y/ns mouth, his hands trialing their body. The heat of his mouth and hands making Y/n loose her ability to even think, not even remembering how to breath as their hands trailed to his back, their nails digging into his clothed back

Y/n gasped feeling his lips trial along their neck and shoulder.

“U-undertaker” Y/n said in a pant.He looked up at them, crashing his lips with theirs once more. His body laying on top of theirs now.

Not leaving an inch out as Their lips and bodies stayed so close to eachother. Their lips and warm breath tickling each others skin. Their hands gripping and feeling everything they could.

If only … if only it could stay like this forever Y/n thought through their pants and soft moans.

If only

“ Y/n .. I ..” Undertaker broke the kiss as he gently smiled through his breathless words, “ I .. think … I think I-“

“Undertaker, Are you home?”

A voice was heard from outside the kitchen as Y/ns mind and body came back. The realization kicking in as a squeak left them.

Undertaker sighed softly as he stood up slowly carefully helping them up, “ Tendered moment I might say” he kissed their forehead with a smile as Y/n Chuckled softly, looking up at him.

“ Indeed …”

Undertaker caressed their cheek before walking past Y/n, “ seems a customer awaits poppet, let us get back to business and .. clean this flour up”

Y/n watched as he walked out, their Curiousness moving them the doorway

“ Well if it isn’t Lord Phantomhive!” Undertakers enthusiastic tone returning, the blush on his face gone as he stood near his desk.

Y/ns eyes peaking through the doorway as they saw the noble boy, next to him a tall and mysterious butler.

“ tell me, what shall I do for the young lord this time ..”

Yes .. what shall the undertaker do for them this time?

#undertaker x y/n #undertaker x reader #black butler x reader #it’s 12 in the morning…help

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dotster001 · 1 year

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Hi grats on 1k!!!<3 id like to participate in the event too if you don’t mind i choose twisted wonderland

My OG: Riddle has always been the favorite child lol i first learned of what twisted wonderland was through my first matchup result here on tumblr before i knew what twisted wonderland was. The headcanon was so cute and i fell in love with him and his design when i started researching and it led me to falling in love with the game itself too. Obviously I chose his hand first when the game finally came to global and he was on my first home-screen and is still there to this day although there have been times i considered switching with malleus or azul i couldn’t bring myself too lol. He reminds me of a little red angry cat who just needs love 🥺.

About me: huh what do i say lol. well I’m a cis female, pronouns she/her, my mbti is infj, my enneagram type is 2w1, my zodiac is a Capricorn, im african American 5’2 with black wavy/curly hair blackish brown eyes chubby cheeks and hour glass figure.

I would describe me as kind smart funny motherly responsible empathetic anxious emotional moody perfectionist helpful people pleaser caring compassionate nerdy curious protective polite respectful indecisive fearful nervous introvert shy awkward and clumsy. My weaknesses would be low self esteem and lack of confidence.

I like animals books reading writing fantasy magic sci fi anime cartoons music video games friends alone time learning personality quizzes sweets bread and helping people.

I dislike spiders loud sounds people who harm others people i care about not caring for themselves people who don’t consider others not being listened to weird holes and patterns math and tests.

Random facts about me would be that i pace a lot i talk to myself i sing when im alone and im a picky eater i have a pet cat and two sisters.

What kind of tale do i want: i dont know get creative i suppose maybe something fluffy and romantic i dont mind a little angst tho if you want as long as there is a happy ending. Just go nuts and surprise me if you can.

Thank you

(Hi I hope you like this! I was inspired by the fact that you got a match up before even knowing the game 😂 the story practically wrote itself.)

A Tale Where Riddle is Set up on a Blind Date, and it works out Better than Expected

"Trust me, Riddle, she's lit! You're gonna love her!"

"Sure Cater, but I don't have time for your nonsense."

Three weeks now. Three weeks of Cater trying to set him up on a blind date with some girl. He tried to be polite. But Cater wasn't taking the hint. And now Riddle was pretty sure he was about to lose it.

"Look, one date with her. One date and I promise, you'll be head over heels for her!"

Riddle was about to snap, when Trey heaved a heavy sigh.

"Look, Riddle, you know normally I would never enable Cater. But in this case, I think he's right. I think you will genuinely enjoy a date with this girl."

If Trey was saying it, then there must be some truth to the matter.

"Okay, then you tell me, Trey. Who is she?"

Trey winced, "I can't say, you just have to trust me."

"Why can't you say?" Riddle asked with a pout.

"Because blind dates are more fun!"

"Because she didn't even agree until yesterday."

Two very different answers overlapped. Riddle folded his arms across his chest and frowned.

"Riddle, just trust me. If it goes badly you can collar Cater forever, and I won't say a word," Trey said with a smirk.

"Hey!" Cater cried, but Riddle was slowly nodding in agreement.

"Alright then. You said you got her to agree. When is this date?"

Cater winced, and muttered below his breath, "Tonight."

"Tonight!" Riddle shouted. "What if I had said no? How am I supposed to be ready in such a short time?"

"It's okay! I have an outfit picked out for you that I've been waiting to have you try!" Cater said, pushing Riddle in the direction of his room.

Needless to say, Riddle was less than excited to try out the new outfit.

….

Riddle was dressed casually for the first time in his entire life. Black jeans, white Tshirt, red unbuttoned flannel on top of the Tshirt. He had to admit, it was comfortable, but he still felt a little out of place…

He'd been informed that his date would know what he was wearing, and would have a red rose in her hair. So he waited patiently at his table, until he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Riddle?"

The rose in your hair was lovely. You looked good in red.

Those were his first two thoughts before he realized you were his blind date.

"Prefect? You're…."

"Yeah," you laughed, "I guess so."

You took a seat across from him, and Riddle took a sip of water to hopefully hide his flushed cheeks.

"Can I tell you the truth?" You said sheepishly. "I only agreed to this because Cater accidentally hinted that the blind date was you."

Riddle's face went even redder and he tried to sputter out a good response, but it came out as….

"Beautiful! So pretty!"

You furrowed your brow. "I mean, yeah, you do look pretty in the casual clothes I guess."

"Sevens," he muttered, taking another sip of water and trying not to choke. "You look beautiful."

You stared for a moment. Then you giggled. "Heh, thanks."

There was a heavy silence for a moment, and Riddle decided that if you were honest, he should be too.

"I kept turning Cater down because I didn't think he'd be setting me up with you."

The back of your neck prickled and your gaze dropped to the floor.

"We seem to be in agreement then."

"Yes," he took your hand, and softly rubbed his thumb along your knuckles.

He grinned maliciously.

" Even if we weren't, rule 137 states that if you get set up on a blind date with the queen, you are required to date until the next blind date occurs."

"You made that up!"

"I would never!" He pressed a hand to his chest in mock indignation. "I take my position very seriously."

"Well, rule 76 in my rulebook says that if the queen makes up a rule, then she has to date me until I say otherwise."

You loved his genuine smiles. So when his face radiated like the sun, your heart skipped a beat.

"I guess we're stuck together."

"I guess so."

"Well, I'll make the most of it then," he confidently kissed the back of your hand, like a prince greeting his princess.

….

From the back of the restaurant Cater looks on in mild disappointment.

"I guess they don't need us to serenade them then."

Trey set the microphone down with a relieved laugh.

"Told you so."

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #1k followers #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle x reader #riddle rosehearts #twst riddle #twisted wonderland riddle

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familyabolisher · 1 year

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re: annihilation im glad im not the only one who disliked it lol! ive struggled thru the second book as well bc people keep telling me the third is the best but. we'll see. id be curious abt ur thoughts & if you have similar critiques (lack of interiority for the mc for one, a lack of clarity on Whats Going On but not in a fun way imo but in a way that makes me really unsure what the Point of it all is, & (book 2) just. the most tedious mommy issues ive ever had to read thru) or if its something else entirely. no pressure tho! i just like hearing ur opinions on things.

tbh my immensely pedestrian answer is that i just couldn’t get on with the style at all—it felt very clumsy and, like, amateurish. i got the sense that vandermeer wanted to narrate The Horrors in a quotidian, somewhat clinical tone that established a discordance around an effort to record and empirically tackle something that resisted the boundaries of human language and communication, and i think a more skilled writer could have pulled that off to great effect; however, as it was, he neither leant far enough into that voice that the discordance could fully emerge & exert a significant enough narrative force to make the piece compelling, nor relaxed it enough to allow his language to play around with the lurid, macabre, paranatural setting.

like, for example, i’ve just gone to a random page to give you some sense of what i mean.

This was really the only thing I discovered in him after his return: a deep and unending solitude, as if he had been granted a gift that he didn’t know what to do with. A gift that was poison to him and eventually killed him. But would it have killed me? That was the question that crept into my mind even as I stared into his eyes those last few times, willing myself to know his thoughts and failing. As I labored at my increasingly repetitive job, in a sterile lab, I kept thinking about Area X, and how I would never know what it was like without going there. No one could really tell me, and no account could possibly be a substitute. So several months after my husband died, I volunteered for an Area X expedition. A spouse of a former expedition member had never signed up before. I think they accepted me in part because they wanted to see if that connection might make a difference. I think they accepted me as an experiment. But then again, maybe from the start they expected me to sign up.

this is like … the first time we get a real, direct account of the biologist’s backstory. it’s like a speedrun of heterosexual our wives under the sea (also a bad book btw lol) and is supposed to pack a pretty hefty emotional punch, but it’s just … well, i mean. “a gift that was poison to him and eventually killed him.” like, the extract falls back on cliches; the prose lands in a very ‘safe’ register and feels a little afraid to push anywhere significantly outside of that. this is pretty representative of (what i read of) the whole book, tbh—and it stings especially when you have things like a mysterious tunnel-tower seemingly made of flesh that only the narrator can see that’s spawning fungi spelling out sentences as other characters in the novel start to die … like, that’s good, and that’s just really not being communicated on the page in any compelling manner.

it felt as though vandermeer had established this fascinating world and then just failed to communicate any of it to any memorable standard. also, the pacing was all over the place, lol—like, take your time with it a little more, spend some time on setting and description! or if you want to lean into that clipped, clinical account, maybe experiment a little more with the texture that that could lend; like, journals, reports, the kind of temporal weirdness that those can generate (as is common in the gothic novel, for instance) … like, there were just a lot of ins where vandermeer could have negotiated a more interesting piece of work than what i was reading.

it just felt very, like—the word coming to mind for me is ‘timid.’ like the text found its own concepts a little too unwieldy and pared itself down into a very meek prose rather than rising to the challenge that its scaffolding presented. and as a result, i was just, like, bored and irritated trying to read it. i’m told that the film is very different so i might give that a go at some point, but i really couldn’t push through to the end of the book, lmao. maybe it’s worth reading for like the last 70 pages, but i’ll never know. sad! well there’s other genre fiction

#ask

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startswitheff · 1 year

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Kojo v. the Duck

Rating: General

Word Count: 2930

Characters: Lucy Chen, Tim Bradford, Kojo the Dog

Read it on AO3 here.

Tim watched as Kojo veered off his original course to pick up the tennis ball that he’d thrown and galloped over to a flock of ducks pecking their way around the edge of the pond. Next to him, Lucy laughed, watching Kojo’s tongue loll out of his mouth as he leapt and jumped, driving the ducks into the air with a frantic flapping of wings and panicked and indignant quacks. He looked over, smiling a bit himself as he watched the play of the afternoon sun on her features. He tightened his hold on her hand and turned back to watch his dog chase away the ducks.

Well, all but one duck. This one, a little bigger than the rest, seemed determined to return to its hunt for water weeds and bugs, and would flutter up only high enough to escape Kojo’s clumsy jump attempts before settling down again to its snack.

Panting now, Kojo stopped to reassess the situation. The duck eyed the dog but kept eating. Kojo hunkered down and crept closer, stalking the smaller animal. Unconcerned, the duck shifted slightly so that its back was turned and dug a little deeper into the muck at the edge of the water.

Kojo was now only a few feet from the duck. “Tim, do you think we should do something…?” Lucy murmured, and he nodded, pursing his lips to whistle a recall.

At that moment, the dog lunged, and the duck whirled, flaring out its wings and turning it from an object no bigger than a football to a threatening entity. The duck darted to one side, jutting out its sharp beak and snaring Kojo’s nose as the dog cantered past.

Kojo’s yelp of surprise and pain echoed throughout the grounds and as the dog came barreling up the hill to be comforted by a sympathetic Lucy, Tim watched the duck ruffle its feathers back into place and continue nosing at the ground.

Fortunately, the dog’s only injury was to his pride, but he seemed in no hurry to return to the park, and Tim jogged off to find the lost ball.

When he returned, Lucy was on her phone. “Thanks, we’ll be there asap,” she said curtly as she hung up and shoved the mobile back into her jeans. She frowned at Tim. “Patrol brought in three suspects matching our description from the standoff yesterday. Lopez wants us in immediately to ID and take statements.”

Tim sighed and looked down at Kojo as he considered the logistics.

Lucy took the leash from his hand and clipped it to the dog’s collar. “We’ll just drop him at my place until we’re done. It’s much closer.”

“You sure?”

She nodded. “Yeah. He’ll be fine. He’s familiar with the apartment and we’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

Tim hesitated, then winced as his phone vibrated in his pocket. Angela, likely wondering if they were on their way. “Okay, let’s go.”

*****

It had taken over four hours to get anything valuable out of the suspects and put them through processing, and when Lucy told Tim she had a frozen lasagna in the freezer with their name on it, his stomach growled so loudly that it echoed in the hallway leading up to Lucy’s apartment and she laughed.

“I hope he’s okay,” Tim muttered worriedly as Lucy worked on the lock.

“He’s fine. He had water and a long walk beforehand. He’s probably drooling all over my bed, just like he usually does when he stays with me.” She used her shoulder to push open the door and stopped halfway into the apartment, staring in disbelief around her.

Tim leaned his head over her shoulder to take in the damage. Small tufts of white fluff covered almost every surface of the living room, dusted into drifts together with what looked like tiny white foam beads.

Kojo stood in the living room, his heavy front paws on the couch and his tail wagging as he peered over at them. Dangling from his mouth was the head of a … stuffed duck?

“Oh no,” Lucy said sadly as she crossed to the dog. Pleased, Kojo gently deposited the slimy cloth head onto her hand and she looked between it and the dog with a frown on her face.

“What is it?”

She sighed. “It’s nothing. Not really,” she said, but she seemed upset, so Tim set an arm around her shoulders and waited. Eventually, she tossed the head aside and curled into him. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid if you’re upset. Tell me,” he urged, gently pushing her to sit next to him on the couch.

She shot him a small smile before she finally continued. “We had just graduated from the academy, and John and I were out at the Santa Monica Pier.”

Tim suppressed the sudden stab of jealousy in his gut when he realized that her mentioning Nolan without also mentioning West meant that they’d likely been on a date at the time. He took a breath, reminding himself that what they’d had was over, and consciously turned his attention back to her story.

“We got into a bit of a friendly competition at one of the stalls, showing off our marksmanship skills. And I totally kicked his ass,” she smirked, looking up at him, and Tim smiled back, proud. “I won this giant bear. It was bright yellow and almost the size of me, and John couldn’t stop laughing as he watched me try to walk down the pier with this massive fluffy teddy bear in my arms. He stopped me to take a picture and we propped the damned thing up on the railing. But right after he took the shot, there was this huge gust of wind and it just - blew right out of my grip and over the side. I’m not sure what was in it, but it sank out of sight before I had a chance to look over. I never saw it again.” She sighed.

“The duck was his, for getting second place, and he gave it to me without a second thought, as a consolation prize. It was really sweet. It’s been kind of a running joke between us ever since,” she finished.

Tim looked between the shredded toy and the dog. “I guess Kojo took one look at it and thought it was the same one who poked him in the park today.”

Lucy shrugged. “Guess so.”

“Well,” Tim said, standing up and pulling Lucy with him. “Let’s get that lasagna in the oven and clean this place up. And then tomorrow we’re going to Santa Monica and we’re gonna get you a new one.”

Lucy raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know, Tim, you’re pretty competitive, and those games are rigged…” she trailed off.

He scoffed. “Listen, baby, if Nolan can win you a piddly little duck, I think I can do much better than that.”

The eyebrow was joined by the other one. “You are only proving my point here.”

He opened his mouth to deny it, but then caved, pulling her close to peck a chaste kiss to her full lips. “Are you really gonna stop me from trying to win a prize for my girl?”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Are you trying to win it for me, or to prove something to yourself?”

Got him. He smiled. “Why not both?”

She slapped his chest gently before stepping away. “Just for that ridiculous masculine display, you can do the vacuuming.”

*****

Lucy pulled the last piece off the stick of her corndog and chewed contentedly, enjoying the sunshine from their spot on the bench. Tim held his own empty stick loosely in one hand, draped between his jumping knees. She laid a hand on his thigh to calm the nervous twitch and he stilled. He looked away from the crowds to see her smirking at him.

“You done yet? Let’s get this show on the road.”

She chuckled. “Are you so eager to lose?”

Tim scoffed. “They didn’t make me a sharpshooter in Iraq because my aim sucks.”

Lucy rolled her eyes as she pulled him to his feet. “Whatever, Bradford. Remember, these things are rigged.”

“We’ll see about that,” he said darkly, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow as they headed for the midway.

They strolled over to the shooting gallery, where Tim handed the attendant a few bills. He took up his air rifle, half listened to the man’s instructions, and then settled the gun against his shoulder. He glanced over at Lucy with a grin. “Ready?”

She rolled her eyes but smiled back. “Go for it.”

He set his stance and adjusted his grip, then aimed, and took a breath.

PFFT!

He’d missed. The little aluminum duck cutouts continued on their track, unmolested.

Resituating the gun on his shoulder, he took aim again, and fired.

PING!

“Aha, gotcha, you little stinker,” he muttered under his breath before taking aim once more.

PFFT!

Feeling the irritation start to rise in his gut, he tensed his jaw and tried again.

PFFT!

“Son of a…” He leaned back for a moment and glared at Lucy. “You know these are rigged, right?” he muttered, and felt a flare of irritation when she rolled her eyes and smirked.

*****

Two hours in, they’d made their rounds of the midway, and Lucy was beginning to flag at his side. Her bag was stuffed with a variety of small plush animals, and occasionally she would reach down to run a gentle finger over the tentacles of a sparkly sequined octopus of which she was particularly fond. As they drew close to the shooting gallery for the third time, the attendant caught a glimpse of Tim’s thunderous face and hastily slipped around back, throwing up a scrawled “Back in 5 min” sign on the counter.

“Babe,” she pulled at his elbow, “can we get a drink and sit for a minute? My feet are killing me.”

Tim looked between her tired, sweaty face and the abandoned stall for a moment before nodding and pointing her to snag an empty seat. He stalked away and returned a few minutes later with two tall cups of lemonade, their sides pebbled in condensation. Lucy looked up at him with a wide smile as he neared and patted the space next to her on the bench invitingly.

She accepted the cool drink with a kiss to his cheek and they sat for a moment in silence, sipping at the tart beverage.

“You wanna tell me what this crusade is about, then?”

Tim looked over to find Lucy watching him. He sighed. “It’s nothing.”

“Uh-huh.” She put on her skeptical face.

“Okay, it’s not nothing. But it’s stupid.”

Lucy waited.

Tim sighed again. “Look, we’ve been doing this,” he waved a hand between the two of them, “for a couple of months now and- and I’m so happy, Luce,” he said, looking at her earnestly. “I’m so happy and I wanna tell everyone about you. But we can’t. And it’s like, when I’m with you, even when we’re at work and nobody knows, everything is great, because you’re there and I’m there and whatever it is, it’s real, right?” He shook his head. He wasn’t great at articulating these kinds of things, and Lucy’s frown told him she didn’t really understand where he was going with this.

He tried again. “But when we’re not together, it’s like we never were. Aside from Kojo’s crap at your place, there’s no physical evidence anywhere. No pictures, no toothbrush in the cabinet, or, or bobby pins in the sink. And sometimes… sometimes it’s hard to convince myself that it’s really real.” He stared down at his hands, worrying his thumbs roughly against each other.

After a moment, Lucy leaned forward to place a hand over his. “We are real, Tim. We are,” she insisted, tightening her grip momentarily. She shifted next to him and he looked up to see her leaning into him. Tim closed his eyes as she pressed her lips to his, breathing her in. There was a distinct click, and he opened his eyes suspiciously.

“Did you just…?”

Lucy lowered her phone, smiling. “I’m making you some evidence.” She raised the phone again, at arm’s length. “Let’s get another one of us smiling.”

Tim wasn’t sure that the dazed relief on his face counted as a smile but Lucy seemed satisfied with the photo and after she tapped away for a second he felt a vibration in his pocket as she sent the images to him.

Lucy leveled a look at him that told him he was about to get lectured. “So all of this started with a duck?”

“You haven’t been secretly dating Nolan for years, and yet he still has something at your place.” He could feel a blush rising up his neck and he looked back down at his hands.

Lucy chuckled. “He also gave me a small home tool kit and a frying pan,” she said, nudging him with her shoulder. “But what he doesn’t have, which you do, is those blue lace panties that you like, stuffed in the back of your drawer. And your gray sweater, which is under my pillow.”

Tim looked up in surprise, and Lucy smiled at him fondly before continuing. “And yeah, if you look in your cabinet, behind the cotton swabs, you’ll find a few bobby pins.”

He leaned forward and kissed her before smiling into her mouth. “I think I might be in love with you,” he breathed, not allowing himself to freak out at what he’d just shared.

Lucy laughed again and draped her arms around his neck to pull him closer. “I think I know that, even without a duck,” she said, kissing him again. She pulled back and stood, holding out a hand to haul him up. “Shall we go?”

Tim hesitated. “One more try?”

Lucy rolled her eyes but smiled. “Okay. One more try.”

Hand in hand they walked towards the shooting gallery. The attendant watched them approach warily, but accepted the bills that Tim handed over and gestured to the guns lined up on the counter.

Before Tim could pick one up, he felt Lucy’s gentle hand on his arm. “May I?” she asked, looking up at him through her lashes.

Her look was confident, and fond, and he felt comforted by her touch. She was here. She was his. This was real. He nodded, stepping back. “Be my guest.”

With a gleeful grin and a bashful tilt to her head, Lucy picked up the gun, set her stance, and sighted. Breathing deeply and slowly, she tightened her finger on the trigger and fired.

PING!

Tim watched in amazement as the little ducks flattened in quick succession. The attendant threw up his hands in genuine pleasure as Lucy set down the gun. “We have a winner! The lady gets a prize!”

Lucy smiled over at Tim, lacing her fingers through his, before she confidently pointed at her selection. “That one,” she said, and Tim laughed as the attendant hooked it down and brought it over.

It was a giant plush version of a yellow rubber duckie, bloated and overstuffed, straining at the cheaply-sewn seams, and it was nearly the size of Lucy as she pulled it with difficulty into her arms.

She grinned at him as she set her chin into the top of the duck’s head, and then, with a small bow, she presented the duck to him. “A prize. For my man.”

He took it, blushing again, and then tugged Lucy closer to kiss the top of her head. This time, when she pulled out her phone for a selfie, he managed a real smile.

*****

It was nearly dark by the time they pulled into Tim’s driveway, and they could spot Kojo at the window, his stubby tail wagging so hard that his entire back end followed suit.

When they stepped through the door, Tim dropped the duck on the floor so he could balance while taking off his shoes, and Kojo froze at the intruder. Lucy and Tim shared a smile and watched silently as Kojo crouched, cautiously creeping forward to inspect the new addition. Finally, sniffing furiously, he booped his nose into the tip of the duck’s beak and jolted backwards as if expecting a bite. When nothing happened, he stretched forward again and offered a tentative lick.

Tail wagging again, he sat down and regarded Tim steadily. Tim looked over for Lucy’s okay, and then turned back to the dog. “You want it? Okay, you can have it.”

Ever so gently, Kojo closed his mouth over the duck’s neck and dragged it from the room.

Tim wandered into his bedroom an hour later, ostensibly to take off his watch and charge his phone, but really it was to open his top drawer wide enough to catch the flash of satiny blue tucked into the back corner and smile.

He looked over at the dog, happily asleep in the middle of his bed. He’d hauled the duck up with him, and was using it as a pillow.

Lucy appeared behind him in the doorway and he looked over. “Are you staying tonight?” he asked, shutting the drawer.

She smiled. “If that’s okay,” she murmured. She rummaged for a moment in her bag, which was slung over her shoulder, and pulled out a small travel case with a toothbrush poking out the side. “I was wondering if I could keep this here?”

Tim grinned. “Please do.”

#the rookie #chenford #chenford ficlet #kojo doesn't get enough credit for bringing them together tbh #May I offer you a fluff in these trying times?

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eviecries · 9 months

Text

Grandpa/Grandma’s Farm Legacy

This is my first generations challenge! There might be some tweaking along the way. 🩷

Required packs:

Horse Ranch

Growing Together

Cottage Living

City Living

Eco Lifestyle

High School Years

Cats & Dogs

Seasons

Get To Work

Get Together

Snowy Escape

Get Famous

You can replace traits with other traits if you want or you don’t own all these packs. Do whatever you want, just follow the main rules.

You can download the starting lot on the gallery. The my ID is pasteliiish. It’s labeled “Grandpa/Grandma’s Farm”

Place the lot in the biggest lot in the horse ranch world. You don’t need to afford it, you can use cheats.

Move into the lot

You can start the challenge with the maximum of 500 simolians (ignore my bad spelling, it’s a made up word, okay?)

MAIN RULES

You cannot sell anything on the lot. You must make your own money. You can “clean up” the lot over time in build mode. There is a lot of debug items. :)

You can renovate the house over time. Upgrade appliances, counters, furniture, etc. the only rule for this is you cannot delete the original house. You can only add onto it.. meaning that you basically just can’t start from scratch. (You can move the house on the lot though)

Renovate the house however you’d like. Change up the outside, inside. Add more floors. Expand it.

Next to the house there is a stable with stuff for a horse and nectar making. This rule also applies to this.

WORLD SETTINGS

Make sure families can’t move or move into other houses. That’s it.

Generation #1 - The inheritance

A few years ago, you inherited your grandparent’s farm. It’s old and dinky, but you have many great memories here. You have spent summers camping here and telling stories around the fire. You have bonded with animals and the townspeople alike. And now you’re all grown up. And you’ve decided to move in. It’s.. a mess. It clearly hasn’t been taken care of in a while. Sure, it may be old and close to falling apart, but hey— you’re pretty sure you can make something great out of it.. right?

Traits:

Rancher

Animal Enthusiast

Clumsy

Generation Challenges

Complete the Expert Nectar Maker aspiration

Never have a job and make money by nectar and livestock

Have one kid (Required)

Teach your kid the horse riding skill

Expand the house to have at least another bedroom and bathroom

Max the Nectar making skill(?)

Generation #2 - The Horse Lover

Ever since you where little you have been OBSESSED with horses. Your parent has made sure you have grown up around animals and farm life. And you love it. You couldn’t be more grateful. Now, your goal is to become the greatest horse rider of all time.

Traits:

Horse Lover

Loves the Outdoors

Jealous

Generation Challenges

Complete the Championship Rider aspiration

Train horses as your job (I haven’t looked so I do not know if there’s an actual job for this, but you can train horses using the community boards around the world)

Have one-two kids (Required)

teach your kid the horse riding skill

Expand the house

Max the horse riding skill and parenting skill

Generation #3 - Chasing Fame

You have lived in Chestnut Ridge your whole life.. and frankly, you’re done with it. You want to get out of this old house. It’s so.. dirty! All you want is to be a musician in the cities and become big and famous. How hard is that to ask for? So you decide to move out. Your parent is heartbroken, but you could care less. You’re finally living the dream.. at least that’s what you think.

Traits:

Self-Absorbed

Cheerful

Music Lover

Generation Challenges

As soon as you become a young adult, move out of Chestnut Ridge and move to San Myshuno

Complete the World Famous Celebrity aspiration

Max the singing skill

“Accidentally” have a kid (required, this can be cheated or legit)

Never get married

Once your parent dies, visit your childhood home and realize that you miss it (parent death can be cheated or legit)

As an adult/elder move back into your childhood home and buy a horse and max your friendship level with your horse

Slowly lose your fame and switch to a family aspiration. You do not need to complete the aspiration.

That’s it for now. I’ll be adding more to this challenge over time, but I’m tired. Enjoy :)

#ts4 simblr #ts4 legacy #ts4 story #sims 4 gameplay #ts4 #sims4 #legacy challenge

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mistydeyes · 9 months

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hiyaaaa i saw you were doing pairings, and i thought id go for it! i’d like you to ship me with one of our gorgeous cod/mw2 boys 🫶

my name is Aia, and I’m a student!

personality: to start off, i’m very introverted (ITSP). i need a lot of alone time to recharge, but i can manage to be around people even when im drained if i like them enough 😭

i have a tough outer shell - not tough in the way that i’m rude or stuck up, but i never really open up about my feelings, or about anything in general. i don’t like talking about myself much with people i don’t really know, and i’m very independent - id rather be on my own. i only open up with, and wanna be around the very few people that i trust - they get to see my softer, more relaxed and true authentic self. and they also get to see my much more energetic and funny side! it all depends on my mood, but it’s usually a mix of both.

i’m very understanding, and i’m VERY empathetic. i can empathise with pretty much everybody and i’m great at giving advice, or even just listening to people’s struggles if that’s what they want. but i can also be extremely blunt and honest at times since i really hate lying & sugarcoating things.

i’m really confident, yet humble. i’m an extremely secure person, and nobody’s words really get to me 😭 i absolutely do not tolerate disrespect and i will cut somebody off or put them in their place if they’re disrespectful enough. I am really humble, however.

this sounds so conceited, but i’d say that i’m really funny 😭 all of my friends describe me as funny, i’m known as the “funny friend”, and i always make people laugh unintentionally! i also laugh at others jokes a lot - i have a hard time taking many situations seriously because of my fkn clownery 💀

the thing that i don’t like about myself however, is that i can be very airheaded and a little like… gone? like very just… unaware and in my own bubble. sometimes i’m extremely clumsy and foolish n shit 😭 i can also be very stubborn at times.

temperament: i’m pretty sure i’m choleric and melancholic! i don’t know a lot about temperaments and such, but i think i’m those two. mostly choleric tho… i think i’m 60/40.

what type of person i am: i’m pretty sure i’m level headed and adventurous. i’m chill, understanding, confident, kind, passionate, and hardworking! i’m mostly logical, but i can be emotional when needed. i’m also extremely loyal and trustworthy.

hobbies: i have quite a few!

- gym/bodybuilding :p

i absolutely ADORE working out, and it’s my main hobby that i tell people about

- cooking & eating :)

- drawing & painting <3

- gaming!

- boxing c:

appearance:

for my body, i’m 5”2/158cm, and i’m normal weight. i go to the gym a lot, so my build is pretty muscular, but i still look feminine overall. my body is like, balanced, i’d say :) i just have an overall fit look!

my face is kind of hard to describe so bare with me! i’m kurdish, so i have very strong individual features, but theyre all in harmony.

My eyes are big, brown, and round. My nose is hooked. my lips are kind of thin, but not overly thin, and theyre kind of bow-shaped :). my eyebrows are thick and dark. my face shape is oval/upside down triangle! my skintone is like… medium? it’s for fair but not super olive either. my hair is thick and dark brown. it is kind of medium length, a bit below my collarbones, and i like to keep it straight, but it is naturally wavy. i have curtain bangs too :)

that was all!! tysm <333

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick (a/n thank you for submitting! I love the amount of detail you put in this and I hope I did you justice!)

How you met: Civilian As you sat in the relief of the cool fan breeze on your face, you re-wrapped your hand with your light blue handwrap. In recent months, you started to train in the ring more often and you loved the gym you found. The air smelled of sweat and the sound of grunts and punches filled the room but it satisfied your competitive spirit. "Aia, you're up!" your trainer called and you walked to the ring to find your opponent. While he was taller and more muscular than you, his kind smile made you feel a little bad for the ass beating you were about to deliver. You had see him around before but this was the first time you would have a session with him. "Kyle," he said as he approached you and gently shook your hand. "Aia," you exchanged and soon took your stance. It was clear when you started that Kyle was a pressure fighter, bombarding you with a barrage of attacks then retreating out of your reach. While his goal was to exhaust you, you were an out-boxer and focused on anticipating his attacks and returning them with a long range punch. Most out-boxers were taller than you but you were able to methodically plan your attacks and kept Kyle on the offensive. You danced around the ring, making intense eye contact with his dark brown eyes until you finally managed to land a winning punch to his sternum. As he fell, you stood above him in victory. "Good match," you complimented as you held out a hand and helped him up. "That was one hell of a punch," he said as he massaged his chest, "I definitely have to train with you more." "Looking forward to it," you replied and exchanged numbers with your new gym buddy.

A peek into your relationship: When you weren't going to the gym with your boyfriend, you enjoyed a nice night in with a cookbook and drinks. Tonight, you and Kyle were attempting to make creamy garlic chicken pasta, a recipe he had suggested. You danced around the kitchen as Kyle took care of the chicken and you handled the pasta. "Babe, this is a great chicken," you said as you peeked a head around his torso, "some might call it im-peck-able!" Your corny joke was met by a hearty laugh from him as you kissed his cheek. "That was bad," he replied and you rolled your eyes as you finished draining the pasta. "I'm just eggs-centric," you said with a smile and this one was met with groans. As Kyle tossed the pasta, he kept poking fun at your humor. "You know, love, if you just told me one of your jokes I probably would have doubled over laughing," he said and sat down on the couch next to you with two bowls. "True but I would never have found the best gym partner," you countered and he nodded in agreement. As you ate your dinner and exchanged more dad jokes, Kyle was happy that he had found the perfect person to be his best friend and to kick his ass at the gym.

#izziespairings #madebyizzie #cod mwii #mw2 imagine #task force 141 #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #mw2

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let-the-bands-take-c0ntrol · 1 year

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12 Days of Holidays: Day 10

Calum HoodXFemale Reader

Warnings: pure fluff, winter weather, teasing, playful gaslighting (not legit), pet names, mentions of a fight, mentions of food

I don't know, I honestly think Frosty the Snowman can take down the Michelin Man.

You laughed at the message Calum sent you, and shook your head in amusement.

All the Michelin Man would have to do is throw a tire at Frosty and that snowman will be down for the count.

You replied back. Your eyes briefly squeezed shut in excitement and you tossed your phone onto your bed. It was only day two of you having Calum's number and already the two of you couldn't stop talking to each other. You were constantly checking your phone for a message back and was starting to hear ghost buzzing. This was too much and you could already feel yourself catching feelings for a man that was practically a stranger.

The buzzing wasn't in your head. In fact it was a soft consistent hum and you pushed away from your desk to grab your phone. Your eyes widened in surprise to see Calum's name pop up on the Caller ID. Except he wasn't just calling, Calum wanted to FaceTime. A loud sound of horror left your lips and you scrambled for just a second, hands roaming across your body to make yourself look somewhat presentable.

"Hey, Clumsy Girl!" Calum's face popped up on the screen, a bright smile on his face when your image became clear on his end.

"Hi," you squeaked out, squirming a bit at the nickname he had given you. Your mind began to wander, head spinning as you thought about him calling you that for the rest of your life. How he'd sound when he first wakes up and says those exact words.

"You didn't answer my question," Calum said, pulling you out of your daydreams.

"Huh?" you blurted, receiving a chuckle from him. Your eyebrows furrowed and looked at your phone intently.

"I can't choose between making Cornish Hen, or. . .Tofu Turkey," Calum said, the cookbook he bought from you yesterday making its way into view.

"That depends on who you're cooking for, any vegans?" you asked, settling into your bed and pulling a pillow into your lap to cuddle. Your legs were drawn in close and your arm rested atop your knees. "Also I meant to ask, but should I bring anything?"

"No-you're a guest, don't hassle yourself with bringing something," Calum replied, flipping through the book. He mumbled something under his breath, mind racing to answer the question you had asked. "Shit, I should probably ask. . ."

"You could make both just in case," you commented, Calum's eyes lifted up to look at you, a slight grimace on his face.

"That's a lot of work," he whined, a smirk making its way onto his lips. "Unless I had some help."

"Are you asking me to come over?" you questioned in amusement, snuggling more into your other pillows.

"I migh-is that a teddy bear?" he asked, quickly changing the subject, head titling to the side with raised eyebrows. You looked over your shoulder at the teddy bear you had had since you were little.

"U-Uh-no, you're trying to change the subject," you huffed, an awkward laugh leaving your lips. You weren't opposed to Calum asking you for help with cooking, but you probably knew it'll be a bad idea to go to his home when you'd just met him two days ago. The two of you were in the talking stage. Well you weren't sure what stage you were in. Hell you didn't even know what these interactions were. Friendly in nature or was this leading to dating?

"I'm not changing the subject-you actually changed the subject, I was talking about food," Calum rambled.

You gave him a mocking face, "I'm not changing the subject-" you mimicked his voice, "You're so full of shit." Laughter erupted out the speakers of your phone and you joined in on it. Calum gave you a goofy smile. "And for your information, her name is FeeFee," you defended, pulling the bear into your arms and giving her paw a little wave at the camera.

"Shit my bad, I'm sorry for being so rude. Nice to meet you FeeFee," Calum chuckled. A comfortable silence fell over the two of you and Calum looked back at the cook book.

"Do you want me to help you cook?" you asked softly, biting down on your bottom lip. You were panicking in your head, but kept a neutral face. You wanted Calum to say it out loud, but you knew your answer was going to be 'no.' At least this time it would be. You only hoped Calum would ask again after the two of you knew each other for a while longer.

"Nah-I'll see if my sister can help," he said, making your shoulders slump in disappointment. "Besides I don't think you and a kitchen knife would be good, Clumsy Girl," the joke had you grinning at him. His eyes sparkling in amusement. You resisted the urge to comment on them.

"Alright, here's another one. . .A normal squid vs. Squidward?" you said, changing the topic. Calum perked up at your question, and soon the two of you were plunged into a deep conversation over who would win in a fight. The night ending with you falling asleep still on the FaceTime call.

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osakunt · 2 years

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I can’t sleep so here’s a self ship Ft - Sakusa.K

I smile lightly at my child when Kiyoomi picks him up for his turn of 2 weeks. His father tries stealing a smile from me for himself, only for me to avoid eye contact suppressing the urge to close the door.

Not because I was looking at him but because his now partner was in the car waiting for him. Something about her always seemed off. Call it crazy but there are times when you simply don’t like someone by the vibes you pick up from them.

I close door behind me when they the car pulls off the drive way. Wondering why the hell id even let my son around her. There was just this feeling - not jealousy but a feeling that she was king to slip up and I’d have to step in if she were to disrespect my kid.

Why are we no longer together ? Our son is close to turning three - he’s soon to then turn to an older age to when he’ll start asking why his mother and father aren’t together like how some of his friends parents are. It’s my fault, really. I started not giving Yess the time of day, one day and it slowly became every day.

I guess she got tired of me no longer being home. Not there for for our sons first step or first word. Not there to help her out, be there when she was going through it at home and at work. It’s my fault for letting her just leave - I should have begged her to stay - to make her understand that I loved and still love her - that she’s all that matters to me along with the curly headed little boy that resembles her in so many ways.

Every time I see her when we either pick up or drop him off, she looks stunning. Yess never kept anything toxic for us. I’m thankful she treats me as she always has - now less as partner but now as friends. Back at square one I guess.

A wave of sadness hits me when I sit down on my couch, in the house that him I used to share. The family home that we had always dreamt of when we first had gotten married. Now all of that was no more.

Just hollow walls where the silence bounces off of them. Sorrow eating up at me when I think about the occurred.

Opening my eyes in the dark all I hear is the sound of the a/c running. I sit up rubbing my eyes and sighing at the nice cool air in the room.

I move to the side trying to stretch a bit. I’m aware that someone is by my aside.

“Yess****” I whisper out her full name thinking that I was still in my dream state

My body gets engulfed my warm arms - her head rested atop of mine when she brings me down to the mattress with her.

“We’re going to have to stop watching sad ass romcoms. Had me dreaming that I was dating some random and that I was picking up our spawn because we had split custody

She lets out a chuckle. The sleep in her voice is heard when she continues.

“Go to sleep, if you were to leave me and date someone else - they better be 6’2 with grey eyes, owns Onigiri Miya and has bigger tits then I do - now that’s an up grade ”

“Don’t get any ideas, sweetheart. I’m not leaving you anytime soon.”

“Yea cause I know for a fact I’d scoop up Osamu before you do, if you ever leave me” she murmurs

I’m falling asleep until my head processes what she said.

Next thing I know I push her off me and she lands on the floor from losing her balance on the edge. I didn’t even push her that hard then again she is clumsy.

“What was that for ?…..actually no…..it helped my back. My lower back popped and my bones feel good …… again !!” She lazily let’s out.

“What -no !! You said you’d date Osamu if I ever left you.”

“So what” she shrugs still laying on the floor

“Just no. That twin is capable of actually latching on and not letting go. Not just that but it’s the fact that you have a back up plan … and it’s the fact that our son is actually cool with him”

Silence…..

“Yess……yess…baby”

“Shut up, I’m sleeping”

I go to her side of the bed and pull her back into bed. Her arms once again find their way around me to cradle me as if I were some huge baby. She plays with my curls as she drifts back to sleep

“I’m serious, Yess”

“Yea, yea. Osamu, big tits, dream - I’m right here - go to sleep” her embrace tightens. After so long it’s still hard to believe that a person who takes everything as a joke can be this loving.

Her arms is where I want to stay. No matter when, what age, or where - in her arms is what I call home.

Damn I was so into the angst at the beginning 😵‍💫 you can just tell this was written at 4 am.

#sakusa x reader #x reader cause I’m the fucking reader #sakusa x yess #sakusa kiyoomi #haikyuu kiyoomi #haikyuu sakusa #Osamu miya

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dasomlimie · 3 years

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Heyyy! I hope ur doing okay if ur requests r open can l request reader asking if she can see whats under sanzu’s mask like that one scene in naruto where he tried so hard to see kakashi’s mask something similar and funny like that take ur time l love ur work <333

%% BEHIND THAT MASK! #!/

characters : aged up!—Sanzu Haruchiyo

a/n : i cant believe im rewrtiting this sorry if this is half assed tumblr didn't save my draft earlier, enjoy ig

Sanzu Haruchiyo..... your masked bf sometimes you were wondering what behind that mask but ofc you wanted to respect his boundaries and dont want to make him uncomfortable, but curiousity start to eat you alive so you have a little plan in your mind

sometimes there's a lot of idea in your mind on why Sanzu didn't remove his mask, maybe he have big lips that unmatched with his face future? or maybe he have crooked teeth? or even worse he doesn't have mouth! but you scratched the last idea since how did he speak if he doesn't have mouth? his nose? yeah that idea once stuck in your head but you decided to remove it because it doesn't make sense at all

you called Sanzu to meet you up infront of a restaurant which he agreed since maybe you were hungry and he is too, you greet Sanzu before taking his hand and walk into the restaurant with him

"today is my treat" you said smiling he raise an eyebrow you were cheerful more than usual "did something good happen?" he ask you shook his head "nope i just wanted to spend time with my lovely boyfriend" you said he nodded start looking at the menu

"are you ready to order?" he ask after a few minutes you nodded letting him call the waiter, you both said your order as the writer write down your order, you noticed Sanzu's order was a heavy meal he probably going to remove his mask

you smile to yourself before mentally patting yourself for coming up with this idea as soon as your food arrived you stare at Sanzu causing him to raise an eyebrow "whats up my love?" he ask you shook your head "nothing eat up" he nod "you too" you nod

you stare as he was about to remove his mask until your phone start ringing you look at the caller ID noticing it was your boss you look at Sanzu "eat first i have to answer this call" you said he nod as he watch your figure walking out from the restaurant

you listen to your boss rant about how her husband keep cancelling their date and how she think he was cheating on her while you were wondering why the hell your boss telling you all of this as she finally hang up you walk into the restaurant only to be greeted by Sanzu scrolling through his phone you blink

"oh baby! what took you too long? oh and im sorry i finished my food first i haven't eat since yesterday" he said giving you closed eyes smile you nod sitting "did you forgot to eat again?" you ask he nod "im very busy yesterday and just go to sleep as soon as i got home" he said you nod

attempt 1 : failed

"want some?" you ask offering your food he shook his head "im full already" he said you nodded visibly deflated "whats up pretty girl? you were all cheerful a while ago" he said chuckling you shook your head from side to side finding a reason and decided to use your boss phone call as your reason "she did it again" you said he pat your head

"did she start ranting to you again? what was is about?" he ask you sigh "about her husband this and that you know the usual why don't they just divorce?" you said leaning to your chair

"maybe you should find a new job if you were that sick of your boss personal life rant" he said you nodded "yeah i should" you said

the second attempt might make him mad but what is life without a little thrill and spice right? right.

you took a deep breath before apologizing gripping the tray in your hand you walk inside the room smiling at Sanzu you walk toward him then purposely trip yourself

you watch everything happen in slow motion how the juice flew and wetting his mask you cheer silently before your face kiss the floor you groan but being muffled by your carpet Sanzu gasp ignoring his wet clothes and mask

"y/n?! are you okay? oh my why are you suddenly become clumsy?" he ask as he help you to get up you have to swallow your image its not even 6 month into your relationship here you are doing stupid things just to what behind his mask

he hiss when he saw your red forehead with a little bloody lips "we should get that lips treated" he suggest you nodded "let me put this away your hoodie was in my closet along with extra mask" you said silently before walking out from the room leaving a little space for you to peak in

you feel your cheeks heat up as you watch his half naked body you silently cheer as he was about to remove his mask when your doorbell rang causing you to curse silent

you keep debating either to look and discover what behind your boyfriend mask or to answer the door you were deep in thought when Sanzu clear his throat his cheeks tinted with rosy pink just like his hair

"i didn't know you're that type of person" he said clearing his throat again you look up before cursing yourself "oh no you got the wrong idea let me go and answer the door ok?" you said walking a little bit too faster "be careful!" Sanzu called as he look you who almost tripped twice

attempt 2 : failed

you look at Sanzu as you keep following—more like stalking—him you tried to make sure you didn't lost him maybe he would remove his mask at the most random time especially when he's alone? yeah thats what you think ,you were now dressed in all black outfit paired with black cap and black mask

yup much like a stalker

you watch him keep turning and leading you to a dark hallways wondering what he was doing here, little did you know he noticed you following him but didn't have any idea it was his girlfriend

"fuck" you curse silently as you lost him you were about to take another turn when someone pull you to opposite turn you yelped both in suprise and pain when your back make a harsh contact to the cold and dirty wall you hiss from how strong someone's grip on your hands is

"who are you and why are you following me?" he ask you stay silent too scared to answer him, Sanzu chuckle "why are you all silent? acting all scared are we?" he said you shiver under his sharp gaze

"i ask you questions" he said you shut your eyes he sigh annoyed and start to loose his patients then decided to remove both your mask and cap you felt his grip on your hands loosening

"y/n?" he said in softer voice than earlier you still shut your eyes tightly slightly trembling "darling look at me" he said as one of hand slither to your waist while the other cup your cheeks thumb caressing your cheeks "open your eyes my love im not going to hurt you" he said you open your eyes slowly meeting his soften gaze

"why are you following me like that? i thought you were one of those people who tried to get me again" he said chuckling you didn't answer instead hugging him burying your face into his chest

"did i scare you that much?" he ask you shook your head as a no, you were actually embarassed of yourself for doing dumb thing to get him to remove his mask

"then why?" he ask hugging you close to him "im sorry" you said he raise an eyebrow "why?" "im sorry for doing dumb thing lately and following you like earlier" you said he chuckled you look up to him

"i get it now" he said removing you from him gently then cup your cheeks with both of his hands "you know you can just ask right?" you pout "i just dont want to make you feel uncomfortable" he shook his head

"you will never im actually waiting for you to ask me by yourself" he said you nodded "then can i uh you know" he nod letting you remove his mask

heart beating loudly Sanzu was prepared from any insult from you yet nothing came our from your mouth, does he freak you out? he was about to apologize when you whispered out a very unexpected word he expects you to say

"beautiful" you said he froze not believing what he just heard "what?" he ask for confirmation "i said beautiful" you repeat before caressing his scars with both of your thumb he sigh in relief

"really? i thought you were going to freaked out" he said you shook your head with confused face while your attention was still on his face "why would i?" you ask

"people always told me its disgusting i thought you would too but apparently not im relieved" you heart broke a little from his words "who the hell said your scars is disgusting?! let me beat them up" you said with determination he shook his head "its okay you were an absolute angel i cant imagine you beating people up" he said pressing a kiss on your forehead

"you look hotter without mask" you whisper he smile "is that so?" he ask you nodded then cover his face with his mask "and only me can see you my beautiful and handsome and hot boyfriend without his mask no one can see your full face they would fall for you" you said he chuckled before ruffling your hair

"whatever you say angel" he said you smile as he lead you out from the hallway just so your know he would use your silly attempt to tease you in the future

attempt 3 : successfully failed

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers headcanons #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo manji gang #tokyo revengers fluff #sanzu haruchiyo #sanzu x reader #tokyo revengers sanzu #sanzu headcanons #sanzu haruchiyo x reader

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amysteriousmessenger · 3 years

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‘Oh, to serve a Princess’ - Ray x Reader NSFW fanfiction

Pairing: Ray x implied female reader CW: Face-riding, fingering, slightly obsessive and a little more confident Ray who just wants to be used Word Count: 4.8k Rating: Explicit

You hadn’t seen Ray in a couple of days, almost a week actually. He said he’d been so busy doing another job for the Saviour that he hadn’t even had time to sleep and had been eating at his desk. He cried on the phone that every time he’d tried to sneak out to come and visit you, a Believer had been waiting outside for him to ask where was going. You missed him, that much was obvious from the ache in your heart, but the punch in your stomach was the worry you had for him. You’d been at Mint Eye for several months, but you had yet to see what tied him so subserviently to the Saviour, besides fear. You’d hoped that he’d at least been eating decently while at his desk, but the various candy bar wrapper sounds you had heard over the phone told you otherwise. You couldn’t help but sigh as you stared out of the window into the night sky. The garden was so beautiful, and you knew how much Ray cherished the flowers growing within it. And yet, it brought you little joy to be enjoying it without him.

Averting your gaze towards the small decorative birdcage that resided in the corner of your room, you couldn’t help but see Ray flash before your eyes again as you touched one of the thin metal bars. Even in the dark lighting of your room, the cage glinted a brilliant gold. You supposed that the cage was just like Magenta. It was so pretty and ornate that, surely, a bird would want to fly willingly towards the gilded embrace it to be loved safely from within its bars. A small bird that longed for protection, to live peacefully. However, it was only when that bird flew into the cage that they would realise it was exactly that: a cage. You felt sick, wiping your fingers against the fabric of your black dress. You’d previously been wearing the dresses that Ray had brought you but they were being cleaned and he’d told you he’d gotten you a new dress, but you hadn’t seen him since he mentioned it. So, you remained in the Mint Eye standard black dress, it was pretty, so you didn’t mind. You looked back between the cage and the garden and figured that the garden would be the lesser of two evils since you’d at least be able to get some fresh air. You grabbed your phone, ID card, and a light shawl just in case it was cold. You didn’t have many shoes with you, but the ground looked dry enough to just wear some light slip-on shoes.

You looked back at the cage once again before swiftly making your way to the door, pulling it open, and having your heart jump out of your chest immediately. Someone was on the other side. It took a second or two for your eyes to adjust and to realise that it was Ray. He hardly looked like Ray. His under-eyes looked practically bruised, he’d lost more weight and he was swaying slightly. He utterly looked exhausted.

‘Ray, are you okay?’ You asked, taking in his appearance. He had brought you a bouquet of gorgeous red roses, but you were more concerned about having him get a little bit of colour in his cheek than the deep rouge of the petals.

‘Yes! I am fine, please do not worry about me, my sweet flower. Might I come in? I know it’s late… I’ve only just finished my work.’

‘Of course, you can but… Ray, you should get some rest first.’ You replied, very much wanting him to get the sleep that he had been so deprived of.

‘A-ah, yes, of course… I did not mean to be a burden, I just hoped I could see you. I went to pick these flowers before I came here, to make up for not visiting’ His half-gloved hands moved the flowers towards you, a pleading look sneaking onto his face. He knew exactly how to have you putty in his hands.

‘Oh, Ray. You’re not a burden. Come in, please, sit down and eat something. They’re so pretty, you know that red roses are my favo- A-ah! Ow!’ you flinched, pulling your hand back from the roses. You’d pricked your finger on a rose thorn. It was only a small drop of blood and didn’t particularly hurt after the initial sting. It was just a tiny dot of blood but, to Ray, it was as though his love had directly hurt you. You didn’t think it was possible, but the colour seemed to drain from his face even more as you watched the panic strike across his features.

‘My princess, I’m so sorry! This is all my fault, I should have de-thorned the roses! I’m so stupid! Useless! I didn’t think and now you’re h-hurt!’ Tears began to well in his eyes, and you couldn’t help but think he looked beautiful, even then.

‘It’s okay, Ray! It’s just a little bit of blood, I just need to take the thorn out.’ You tried to console him as he blamed himself.

‘Please, allow me.’ Ray followed you into the room hurriedly, locking the door behind him. He took the roses from you and placed them on your vanity table. He knew his way around your room very well, since he had personally designed it, and retrieved a small first-aid box from your bathroom. You didn’t think he needed to go to such an effort for such a small, insignificant injury, but figured it would probably bring him a little bit of joy to let him care for you after not being able to see you for so long. He guided you towards your bed, as though you were mortally wounded, and sat down next to you as he fumbled through the small box. He set aside a small band-aid, disinfectant spray, tweezers, and cleaning wipe. You felt bad for worrying ray, especially since he’d had such a rough few days, so you wanted to try and lessen his emotional burden by taking the blame.

‘I’m so clumsy, I usually burn my hands a lot.’ You started before laughing and adding ‘Maybe I should get a pair of gloves like yours, so I stop hurting my fingers so much.’

‘My gloves stop me from biting my nails so much. I often don’t realise I’m doing it but sometimes I just get so anxious. My Saviour told me to wear them to stop biting at my nails and to hide them from her sight, she says my hands aren’t pretty to look at. That they’re a sign of my weakness… Maybe, when I get stronger, I’ll be okay without them. I’m sorry, I need to take the thorn out…’ He whispered as he used the tweezers to remove the thin spike from your skin, making the blood form in a little bubble on the surface of your skin. You could feel your heart clenching as you heard Ray speak about his gloves, and part of you wished you hadn’t mentioned it.

‘It’s okay. I like your gloves Ray, they make you look princely.’ You smiled, using your other hand to gently place your hand on his knee. You felt him tense up for a moment before ever-so-slightly moving closer into your touch.

‘Princely? I-I don’t think I’m good enough for that… but, I’d like to be your prince, if you’d let me, princess.’ Ray replied, averting his gaze back to your finger as he delicately wiped at your finger. Clearly, he was no stranger to disinfecting wounds.

‘You look just like a Prince. I was reading earlier, ‘The Happy Prince’ by Oscar Wilde specifically, and when I read about the Prince having sapphires for eyes, I pictured yours.’ You reached your hand up to stroke his cheek softly with the back of your fingers. You didn’t have the heart to tell him how sad the story of ‘The Happy Prince’ was.

‘Ah… I don’t really know what to say.’ Ray focused on cleaning your finger, his face growing warm under your affection. He couldn’t have hidden the light dusting of a blush even if he had tried.

‘Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to embarrass you… Your eyes are just pretty.’ You added, worried that you had somehow made him uncomfortable. It was unlike you to be so upfront with Ray, but you just had a pull, a need, to make sure he knew how precious he truly was. He’d never think it for himself, so you wanted to make sure someone told him, at the very least, that he was cherished.

‘P-pretty? I’ve never considered myself pretty, but I like pretty things, like you, and flowers, and the sky… Will you allow me to do something a little bolder than usual?’ He asked, pulling his icy eyes up to meet your gaze for a moment.

‘Of course.’ You knew he’d never do anything without your consent, and you trusted Ray to always treat you with tenderness, so even his ‘boldness’ was sweet. He took a quick intake of breath before bringing your fingertip up to his lips and placing the softest kiss upon where the small prick of blood had begun to reappear, leaving a tiny dot of red on his lips when they left your flesh.

‘I want to… be a Prince for you. They kiss their beloved’s hands, right? And uhm, they- they kiss their love to break the spell.’ He spoke, looking back at your hand as he cupped it with both of his own.

‘True Love’s first kiss? But we’ve kissed before.’ You added, a little confused. You’d done more than kiss before, you’d been with Ray for a few months and the intimacy had been forthcoming. Ray’s adoration was obsessive and, whilst he struggled to accept it, no amount of physical affection was ever enough. He always craved more from the second it was over. But he was uncertain and shy, so sometimes he didn’t know how to ask for more and would, in turn, suffer until you next bestowed it upon him.

‘I wasn’t a Prince then… I want to look after you and treat you like a Princess.’ He said, wrapping the band-aid around your finger and only released your hand to tidy the first-aid box away. You noticed that he hadn’t wiped the blood from his lips despite there being no way that he wasn’t aware of its presence. It was probably the most colour he had on his face at that moment, even in the dim lighting of your bedroom. Ray was almost ghostly in appearance, and yet, so beautiful. It pained you that he couldn’t see that in himself.

‘Okay, you can be my Prince, Ray.’ You whispered. It took a moment for him to hesitate before he tentatively pressed his lips against yours. You hadn’t seen Ray for so long, you had almost forgotten how much you craved his touch. His lips were cold and chapped, more so than usual because of having not looked after himself properly. There was a small tinge from the metallic taste of blood before it quickly vanished, and you could taste the hint of all the sugary snacks that Ray had been subsisting on in his IT room. He was quicker to deepen the kiss than usual, not that you were complaining, but at some point or another: you needed to stop to breathe. It was painfully obvious by the darkening look in Ray’s eyes that he’d have much rather given you his last breath than to pull apart for just a moment longer because as soon as he could, he was back to steal intoxicating kisses from you. You supposed it was due to the lengthy separation that had made Ray be this needy, almost to the point of obsessive , but his kisses were like a drunken summer’s evening: warm and yearning. Yearning for the heat he was so constantly deprived of.

This wasn’t your first time together, so Ray knew what you liked. He knew you liked when he kissed down your neck, when his fingertips danced along your bare shoulders, or when you could feel him whispering into your ear. He was always so meticulously focused on pleasing you that always knew what to do even if he didn’t always have the confidence to execute it without coaxing. This was not one of those times. Ray felt this hunger for you each time, but this time, he didn’t feel the same level of uncertainty that he usually did. Perhaps it was the sleep deprivation, or maybe it was having not had his hands on you in almost a week, but at that moment: you were the drug that Ray was the most addicted to. As he kissed along your neck, your hands found their way into his soft, white hair. Without either of you mentioning it, you both fell back onto the bed together, with Ray leaning over you to continue kissing the sensitive skin on your throat. You couldn’t help but let out small gasps and whimpers under his touch, you really had missed him, after all.

‘Ray…’ You half said, half-moaned. You could feel yourself getting turned on, but the rational part of your brain was reminding you that Ray should get some sleep after having worked for such a long period of time. You wanted him to look after himself, even though that clearly wasn’t at the forefront of his own mind in that moment.

‘Yes, my Princess?’ He pulled away from your neck to ask, looking down into your face from above. He was panting slightly, and you didn’t think it was just from the kissing. Like you, he was flushed in the face and his eyes were half-lidded from sheer hunger.

‘Don’t you think… that you should get some sleep? You were working for so long.’ You said, reaching a hand down from his head to cup his face.

‘D-do you want me to stop?’ Ray asked quickly, a moment of panic flashing that perhaps he had gotten too ahead of himself, that you didn’t want his touch.

‘No, but you’re tired and-’

‘This…is nothing. What kind of Prince doesn’t give his Princess the attention that she deserves, especially after he’s neglected her all week? I-I’ll do anything you ask of me, since it’s you.’ Ray was relieved that it wasn’t him misreading the situation, and you were just concerned for his wellbeing. This wasn’t the lost endurance test he’d had; he could stay awake a little bit longer if it meant getting to be in your company. That much he could manage.

‘A-ah…’ You gasped as he turned to kiss along your bare shoulder. You had missed the sensation of being underneath him like this. His cravat was lightly tickling your chest and you laughed involuntarily. He didn’t take his mouth off of you, but you felt him reach up to his neck with one hand and tug the cravat loose, so it didn’t tickle you as much. He also undid his top button, probably to allow himself to breathe better.

‘H-how do you want me to please you?’ Ray asked, still looking for the confidence to be bolder with verbalising what he wanted to say.

‘Mhm, touch me… Ray.’ You moaned into his ear. You decided that if he really wanted to spend the night with his first moment of freedom, who were you to deny the both of you that enjoyment?

‘Like- like this?’ He asked as he tentatively laid on the bed, half next to you and half on top of you. His gloved hand slowly moved up towards your inner thigh as you parted them to grant him access. Ray’s hand disappeared underneath the hem of your black dress as his fingers found the fabric of your underwear. His confidence seemed to falter for a moment of uncertainty until your own hands found their way into his hair again and you pressed a few butterfly kisses against his sharp jawline.

Usually, Ray took his gloves off to touch you since you wouldn’t actually see his hands in the darkness, but this time he kept them on, primarily because you said that you liked them, and secondly because he wanted to live up to the princely imagery you had described to him. His fingers pressed against you gently, moving in small circular motions up and down the length of you. He’d occasionally vary the pressure depending on which spot he was touching, since he didn’t want to accidentally hurt you. He was teasing you and he didn’t even realise he was doing it. Ray quickly found the spot which made you moan the most. Since he was wearing his gloves, he couldn’t physically feel how turned on you were, so he relied on the mewls you emitted to know that he was doing a good job.

‘More… please.’ You sighed underneath his touch. Ray’s hand found its way into your underwear and you moaned into his mouth as you continued to kiss him, It was safe to say that the situation that definitely gotten heated, but you couldn’t tell from whose face the heat radiated the most, ‘Yeah, just like that…’ You affirmed as his fingers circled around your folds, occasionally teasing at your clit. You briefly wondered why he’d didn’t keep his gloves on for this more often, it felt so good. It carried a certain emotion, being touched with leather gloves, that was making you physically weak at the knees. As much as you enjoyed the feeling of his skin on you, you couldn’t deny that the gloves were definitely doing it for you too. He could feel the slickness of your arousal as his gloved fingers slid along your folds until you were melting against his chest. Ray liked that he was in a position to be able to continuously kiss you as he stroked you, he needed all of you at once. He wanted to be in every single one of your senses, the same way that you were all-encompassing to his. His fingers left you briefly, and you mourned for the sudden lost sensation.

‘My princess, would you mind, uhm, lifting your hips up for me?’ He asked in a husky manner that was almost unlike him. He sounded so needy, you immediately complied and helped him to remove your underwear. While you were there, you also kicked off the slipped that you had put on for your long-forgotten walk into the garden. Once you laid back down, Ray’s obsessive hands soon found their way back to your body.

After another minute or so of circling your clit, his fingers lowered themselves to your entrance. He waited, asking for permission, before slowly entering you with his hand. As always, he was patient with your body, especially after having not touched you for a while. He added one finger at first, moving it slowly to let you adjust, before quickly adding another. You had missed the feeling of having him inside you like this. Ray had to adjust his wrist slightly before he continued to let him curl his finger against you, rubbing along your wall in a ‘come hither’ motion. While you had some lube in your bedside table, you didn’t think there’d be a need for it, since you could feel how turned on you were from the cool air hitting the wetness on your thighs. You moaned out affection and affirmations to Ray as he increased his speed as he let you pull him into kisses at will or held his head against your chest. However you wanted to hold him, he’d happily go along with it.

‘It’s so good, Ray- ah, right there!’ You choked as he hit the spot that made you almost see stars. He tried to focus on hitting that spot, again and again, his hand becoming wetter and wetter which each passing tap on your g-spot. You were somewhat embarrassed that you could actually hear the motion of Ray’s fingers moving in and out of you but it just seemed to spur him on more. He really was talented with those fingers.

‘I want... more. I saw something that I want to try. I-I promise I’ll do my best to make it feel good… I don’t quite know how to phrase it. I want to taste you, from above-’ He explained, slightly haphazardly.

‘Are you sure? Won’t I be too heavy?’ You questioned; a little bit uncertain of his request.

‘Of course not. In the video I saw, they used a pillow to support their neck and-’ He started, but you couldn’t help interject with laughter.

‘Ray, were you watching porn?’ It just seemed so out of character for him.

‘No! I mean, technically, yes. It wasn’t mine… I was checking that none of the Believers were trying to look at stuff they shouldn’t be and I… found a video. I thought it looked like you might enjoy it. I found that I… wanted to please you like that.’ His face flushed with embarrassment, even after everything that had just happened, he was suddenly embarrassed that he stumbled across and watched a porn video.

‘We can try it, if you want.’ The embarrassment spread from Ray to you, realising that you were, in fact, going to be sitting on his face. You were a little bit self-conscious about your body, so you said you wanted to keep your dress on, and Ray replied that thought you were beautiful, but he understood body issues and wouldn’t push you since this was already out of your comfort zone. Ray removed his fingers from you again and, with his other hand, he laid a pillow flat on the bed and positioned it so his neck was supported at a slight angle. You were a little nervous about hurting him, but since he wanted to try it, you were willing to give it a try.

You sat up, unsure how to how exactly you were supposed to get on his face without crushing him, but still equally as desperate for stimulation. You lifted your dress up and bunched it at your hips, throwing one leg over Ray’s chest so you were almost straddling him at the next. You waited for him to give the okay to move closer and put yourself in his mouth. You felt his hands steady your thighs as he nudged you close to him, clearly equally as eager to use his mouth on you as you were to have him do it.

Ray started with a few small, sensitive kisses along your folds, earning small shudders from above. You felt a little scared to move, in case you fell and hurt him, so you intended to just let him take his time in what he was doing, he was going you so much attention after all. You felt him stick out his tongue and run it in a line up and down you, your breath hitching in your throat when he grazed it over your clit again and again. And then, almost all at once, Ray pushed your hips into your face, so you were completely on his mouth. It was as though something took over him, a hungry desire that he didn’t verbalise, but you could see burning in his eyes as he took mouthful after mouthful of you, You threw your head back in pleasure and choked out his name in broken moans. You hadn’t expected Ray to be so upfront with wanting to do something like this, and then actually taking control with it.

His gloved hands were on your hips, moving you over his mouth with speed. He was practically begging you to use him, to let him make you feel good. Ray wanted nothing more than to be useful to you, especially like this. He needed that useless body of his to be good for something, to be good for you. He’d never want for anything ever again if you were to, at the very least, allow him to stay by your side like this. This much he could do. Was it selfish of him to think such a thing? Perhaps. But he decided that, with everything he’d endured in his life, he was allowed to keep that one selfish thought close to his heart. It was a little difficult for him to manage while you were obstructing his view, but Ray undid his trousers and began lightly touching his own erection since it had become uncomfortable to ignore, using your own arousal on his gloves as a lubricant. He was already painfully hard from pleasuring you, but he didn’t need any of the attention to be on him tonight, he wanted to be there just to please you, to serve you.

He stroked himself with one hand and continued to guide you over his face with the other. He particularly liked it when you found the confidence to grip your hands in his hair and start moving yourself against his tongue, using him in the way he wanted you to. You had already been starting to get close to an orgasm when Ray had had his hands inside of you, so it didn’t take very long for the sensation to start building once again. Personally, Ray didn’t have too much stamina so he had to delay his own orgasm for as long as possible to be able to continue watching the show above him to his utmost benefit. He preferred watching you as you moved against him, and he felt drunk when you made eye contact with him whilst you did it. He was the only one who got to see you like this, the only one. He didn’t care what he had to do to keep it that way, he’d be possessive, obsessive, compulsive if needs be to ensure that that would remain the case.

Above, you felt the pressure of an orgasm building quickly under the merciless assault of Ray’s tongue. You could feel that Ray was picking up his own pace and moaning onto you, which felt fucking great. He was starting to get close too, which made sense because of how aroused he had been just from touching you. Besides, he definitely hadn’t had any time to release himself all week, he was probably just a bit pent up too. His lips were pursed over your clit, swapping between kissing it and sucking on it and then using his tongue when you picked up speed in order to let you fuck yourself on it, praises and prayers falling freely from your mouth.

‘Fuc- Ray! I think I’m gonna-’ You didn’t even have a chance to finish your statement before Ray picked up the speed he was moving your hips at, quickly sending you over the edge in his mouth. Did he stop moving you, just because you’d climaxed? Absolutely not. Through the blinding pleasure, Ray continued to use his mouth on you until your legs started to twitch from the overstimulation. It was watching you writhe above him, knowing that he’d done such a good job that allowed him to find his own orgasm too, quickly releasing over his hand. He touched himself through his peak, mentally visualising how both of your arousals must look mixed between his fingertips. He closed his eyes, feeling lost in the moment where all of his pent-up frustrations from the last week came crumbling down into a moment of practical peace.

When he was done, you removed yourself from his mouth and collapsed on the bed next to him. You were both panting heavily as you crawled to his side, placing exhausted kisses along his jaw and temple. His hair was a mess from where you’d run your hands through it, but you thought it just made him look cute. You weren’t surprised to see how quickly the exhaustion took over Ray after he caught his breath and you convinced him to take the risk and sleep in your room for the night, since you weren’t entirely certain he’d made it all of the way back to his own room without passing out. You took turns in the bathroom, cleaning yourselves up from the unfolded events of the night, and crawled into bed together.

‘I love you, Ray. I really do.’ You said, embraced in one another’s arms in the darkness.

‘I love you too, my sweet Princess.’ He replied, clearly trying to fight off the sleep to continue talking to you.

You pressed one more kiss into his pale cheek, ‘I wish you’d know how precious you were to me.’ You whispered, but he was already unconscious.

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger x reader #mystic messenger reader insert #saeran choi #saeran choi x reader #ray mystic messenger #ray x reader #ray mystic messenger x reader #mystic messenger headcanons #mystic messenger headcanon #mystic messenger hcs #mystic messenger hc #mysme fanfiction #mysme fanfic

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batsandbugs · 3 years

Text

The Great IKEA Game

Chapter 4: The Three Stooges

AN: At least it hasn’t been two months again 😅. Let’s check in with the other batboys and see how they’re handling Damian and Marinette’s chaos.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Tim wondered when his day took a solid dive off the cliffs of normal and into the waters of weird.

It probably started when Dick dragged them out of bed at eight in the morning – on a Saturday – piled them into the car, and drove them an hour and a half out of the city to an IKEA. If they had actually been there to shop they would have either burned the store down or killed one another.

Not that those things were off the table yet.

Tim had work, actual work, that he could be doing. But no, instead he was playing a demented game of hide-and-go-seek, which was careening into an all-out war. The destroyed shelving units, shopping carts, and forklift were unmistakable evidence of that.

How had the demon spawn accomplished this in less than a minute?

Bruce would kill them, once he came back from off-world.

That is if Alfred didn’t get to them first.

“Uh, order 177? Shit, my pay isn't enough for this.”

The words shook Tim from his stupor. He walked over to the counter.

“Hi,” he said, flashing his most charming CEO grin. “I have a quick question?”

The server's fixed smile contrasted with his dull eyes.

“I need to know what way the boy who ordered this headed.”

“No.”

Tim sighed, “Look, it’s important. My brother-”

“I mean, no, it wasn’t a boy.”

Tim paused. “Huh?”

“It was a girl, a teen girl. Black hair, big blue eyes, French accent. She was sitting over there,” he waved at an empty table. “But I think she walked away before that happened.” Referring to the giant train wreck occurring a few aisles over.

“Oh,” said Tim. “Thanks.”

“Do you want the order?”

Tim held back an annoyed sigh.

“Sure.”

So that’s how he, Jason, and Dick, sat at the abandoned picnic table, staring at the abandoned meal bought with Damian’s credit card. Jason grabbed a couple of fries and shoved them in his mouth.

“That’s evidence, nitwit,” hissed Tim.

Jason ignored him, stabbing a meatball with the plastic fork. “What? It’s going to go to waste. Girlie obviously ain’t coming back for it.”

“We should be more worried about how a random girl used Damian’s credit card!”

“She could have stolen it?” offered Dick.

“Demon spawn would have broken her arm before getting pickpocketed,” countered Jason, eating another fry. Silence. A weird glint appeared in Jason's eye. He turned to Tim. “What did you say the girl looked like again?”

“Black hair, blue eyes, French accent.”

“Shit,” muttered Jason.

“What?”

“I think I ran into her earlier, about an hour and a half ago. Asked her if she had run into demon spawn – she sounded confused and tourist-like. But maybe…”

“Maybe she’s working with him?” offered Tim.

“Could be.”

“Damian? Working with another person? A stranger?” Dick shook his head. “Doesn’t sound like him.”

Jason shoved another fry into his mouth. “The brat’s a competitive little shit, if he thought teaming up would help him get ahead, he’d do it in a heartbeat.” He pointed a fry at Tim. “Can you look at the security footage?”

“I’m already two steps ahead of you,” Tim said, flashing his phone with the hacked in security camera footage on-screen. Jason and Dick huddled in close as a small girl walk on screen and stood at the counter.

“Yep, that’s her. Can you ID her, Timmy?”

Tim rolled his eyes, “This is a smartphone, Jay, not a laptop.”

“I thought Mr. World’s Second Greatest Detective would be prepared for anything.”

“Well excuse me for not having facial recognition software, on my phone.”

“Guys chill.”

“Shut up, Dick,” Jason and Tim said in unison.

The footage played out and they watched the girl order two meals and pay with Damian’s credit card. They switched to another camera when she left and sat at the picnic table. A few minutes later Jason and Tim walked into frame.

“Look, there! She tenses. Look at her body language, she’s panicking. She knows who you two are.” Dick looked shocked that, yes, Damian had teamed up with a partner.

They watched the girl panic, although she managed to keep her body from reacting too much. She placed her phone to her ear and walked away from her spot.

“Who is she talking to?”

“Maybe Damian was watching out of sight?”

“Shoot, Tim, she’s out of frame. Do we have another angle?”

It took another minute or so, but Tim found the right security camera catching the mysterious girl leaving the food court. As she walked away the image on the screen flickered, and a moment later the shelving units fell.

“Oh crap,” swore Jason. “Do you think she has magic? Fuck, it would be just our luck if demon spawn teamed up with someone dangerous.”

Dick shook his head. “It could be a coincidence. We didn’t see her do anything. The chaos could have been a coordinated effort between her and Damian.”

Tim wasn’t so sure. “Come on Dick, you’ve been in the game long enough to know just because something looks one way, doesn’t mean it's true.”

They watched the girl hurry out of sight, this time it was much more difficult to follow her progress through the store. She would randomly duck in and out of showrooms, coming out differently than how she came in. If the three boys hadn’t been trained in stealth and detection for years, they would have had a challenging time tracking her.

Jason whistled low. “Who is this chick? I’m impressed. She has serious skill.”

Finally, she ducked into a showroom and didn’t come out. Tim couldn’t find a camera giving them an unobstructed view, but it didn't matter. They had a destination.

“This was ten minutes ago, they could already be long gone,” said Dick.

“Or they could still be hiding there,” countered Jason.

“We’ll find out when we get there.” They walked out of the cafeteria and past the closed aisles. The forklift that had been buried under the collapsed shelving unit was being unearthed by a flock of bewildered employees.

“Ten bucks says she has magic,” said Jason.

“Yeah, no.” Tim was good at math and the odds of everything happening just as she left was too big to be a coincidence. “I’m not stupid enough to take that bet.”

“Come on you guys, let’s focus here,” chided Dick.

Walking back through the showrooms Tim kept an eye out for any sign of his brother or his accomplice, but it was as if they had disappeared into thin air. Arriving at the last location they had spotted the girl, they waited for a touring couple to leave before descending on the tiny, boxed room like the detectives they were trained to be.

It didn’t take long to discover the lasered off vent.

“Shit,” groaned Jason. “They could be anywhere by now.”

“Tim can you-”

Tim had his phone in hand, “I’m already on it. I’ll have the vent layout in a minute.” He felt insulted they even needed to ask.

Jason peered into the vent, “Damn, I think we’re too big to follow.”

Dick sighed. “I miss my vent crawling days; they just don’t make them as big as they used to.”

“That’s what she said,” snickered Jason.

“Focus you two,” Tim snapped. “I’ve pulled up the air duct plans.” He flashed the screen to his two brothers who settled down. “This particular vent runs a couple of places. We have one entrance at the back of the store in the storeroom. Then another veering off near the daycare center, and the last which comes out near the unloading dock.”

“I’ll take the one next to the daycare center,” said Dick. “I’m the only one who isn't demented,” pointing to Jason, “or sleep-deprived,” pointing to Tim.

“Hey!” exclaimed Jason.

Tim sneered, repressing a Damian-like growl, “I wouldn’t be so sleep deprived if you hadn’t dragged us out of the house at eight in the morning. I arrived in from patrol at three.” He hadn’t had coffee in hours, and the weight of his body pressed on him like a panini maker.

Dick ignored them. “Jason can take the one at the loading docks, and Tim you’ll be able to bypass security and get into the back the easiest.”

“Sounds good to me,” grunted Jason.

“Alright,” agreed Tim. “The second any of us spots them, text the group chat, will box them in from there.”

They nodded and headed off their separate ways. Despite the tiredness in Tim's bones, there was a heady rush of the hunt thrumming in his veins. Damian, and whoever he had decided to pair up with, were going down.

Tag List: (Closed, sorry!! I’m so glad you all like it though.)

@multplelifes @bluesimani @justhugefangirl @nik-nak-3@redscarlet95 @purplesundaze @incredulous-reader @k-poplunardreams @our-preciousss @blackmagicforever @vgirl-10123 @lozzybowe @wannajointhecrabcult @dast218 @chaotic-mess-of-a-life @fidget-eep @kawaiigiantjudgefish @queenmj10@tumbling-down-hills-and-stuff @crazylittlemunchkin @fandom-writer642 @nach0ava @ladybug-182 @sam-i-am-0222@spyofthenightcourt @how-to-fuction-properly@emotionalsupportginger @dreamykitty25 @tomanyfandomsonmy-mind @mystery-5-5 @theatreandcomicfreak @weird-pale-blonde-person @whatthechickenfriedfuck @myazael@pawsitivelymiraculous @urbanpineapplefarmer @karategirl119@consumeconstantly @hauntedstudent99 @ertyzeta @thornalchemist23 @iloveitwhen @animegirlweeb@byronsacademics @i-wanna-be-a-ninja @moonlitjiminie@iglowinggemma28 @constancetruggle @catgirlkittypryde @waffelyunsure @maskedpainter @lilkymilky @unhappyraspberry @avengerthewarrior @quotesandanime @tbehartoo @clumsy-owl-4178 @g-arya @chocolateherringtacofan @jalaluvsu @crazyrandomrebel @fatimaabbasrizvi @thenillabean @goblinwhoships @bluefyoto94 @nerinalith @loopingtangent @demonicbusiness @hecate-hallow @themcclan @tropestropestropes @paintedhope7 @whitetiger1249 @glitchon @vulpixmina @kitkat81804 @kissa-chan @beautiful-disasters-sunshine

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nanamikentoslutt · 3 years

Note

Hey I really like your writing so far! I saw you were open to asks and I was wondering if you could write one about Jean for me 🥺 Id love one where we lose our virginity together if that’s okay for you! I know he is a secret sweetheart with a horse cock!

OMG! Thank you so much, this is my first ever ask!! I hope you like it :) also I agree there is no doubt Jean has a horsecock 🥵

Word count is 2.9k sorry I got carried away lol

THIS IS 18+

Warnings; Oral, vaginal sex, fluff, smut

Jean x Fem!reader

“Shh, we have to be quiet, y/n.”

Jean giggles, pulling you into the sleeping quarters, vacant from the rest of the scouts being occupied either on duty or in the mess hall. He grabs you inside and pulls you close to him, eagerly kissing your lit up face which had turned red from all the laughing you two had been doing on your way there. He cupped your face in both hands, moving your lips together through a smile he slowly started to pace backwards further into the room, you eagerly followed, your bodies both moving in perfect unison with one another as you were excited to finally have your alone time with Jean.

You had been dating for a few months now and only became official within the last week or so, your fellow comrades teasing you both for not recognising everyone knew you were made for each other even before you guys did. You and Jean took it slow the first few weeks, getting to know each other but soon enough your primal instincts kicked in and whenever you got a moment alone you’d be all over each other. Jean found himself sneaking you into empty equipment rooms just to hungrily devour you, running his hands up your body with no sense of true direction, just desperate to feel your body on his. You also felt the same sense of urgency to feel Jean’s touch, his tall, broad frame wrapping himself around you as you would desperately rub between his thigh, working yourself up as your clumsy and greedy kisses turned your heated equipment room meetings into olympic style make-out sessions. You were both so desperate for each other and the pace at which you kept it was not only because of that, but mainly because you two never had time for this sort of stuff. With training and expeditions, as well as living and sleeping in a room with 20 other people, you never had the time, or more importantly you never had the privacy. Jean had no issue kissing or cuddling you in front of the other scouts, occasionally slipping his hand under the covers to rub your clothed cunt, watching you try and keep composed while mid conversation with Sasha. Jean loved to tease you like that. Seeing your innocent face start to grow hot with excitement and a hint of embarrassment. Jean would rub just deep enough that you started to get wet beneath your clothes but not fast enough so you’d actually cum in front of your friends, he knew not to take it that far, however many times he’d thought about that exact scenario when alone, rubbing his cock in a toilet stall somewhere.

Through your cautious acts and sneaky behaviour, you and Jean had done almost everything together you possibly could, except the big one. You’d never taken it far enough to actually fuck. That was something you both knew you wanted done right. Being a virgin you personally never felt too much sentiment towards “virginity” however after meeting Jean and falling in love with that big idiot you knew that even if it was something you’d feel indifferent about, you wanted it to be special, because it was with him. And Jean felt the same, he would act cocky in front of everyone when showing you off but deep down he was in love with you and being a virgin himself he held sex as something sacred. Jean liked to joke with Connie about how long he could go and how all the girls from his village called him “horse” for a reason. Connie would usually be skeptical about Jean’s big talk but after he landed you he considered he might not be a liar after all. You were good and kind to all the scouts and that's what everyone loved about you, but Jean was first hooked by the way you looked, he couldn’t deny confessing this to you once you’d been together for a while. He’d admit it was the way your hair flew past your neck when you used the ODM gear, embarrassingly crashing a few times from getting lost in a trance. Jean was fawning over you from the moment you two met, he’d stay awake at night going over each and every one of the small conversations you’d had that day, deciphering whether or not he’d come off too bold or too rash. Wanting to impress you but not wanting to scare you away.

Whatever it was that drew you to him was now the reason you two were pouncing on each other in the sleeping quarters. Your body follows Jeans as he slightly hunched over to accommodate your height and softly hold your face in his. The feeling of excitement exuding your body as your now wet lips crashed into each other, your heads occasionally moving from left to right to switch up the position of the kiss. Placing both hands on his chest you lightly push back to look up at him,

“I heard Captain Levi is holding a meeting in the mess hall…”

You say, a grin on your face that Jean is now trying to read, unsure of what you’re getting at. His half lidded eyes look down to your face, his lips slightly plump from where you’d both been so aggressive.

“Yeah, I don’t wanna go to that,” Jean pulls you back into him and starts moving his lips down your neck, his hands wrapped around your waist. You roll your eyes to yourself at your completely clueless boyfriend.

“Jean, I said the Captain is holding a meeting, meaning…”

The penny finally drops, Jean takes his wet mouth off your neck to look at you, his eyes widening.

“Meaning we have about thirty-five extra minutes?”

He smiles down at you, looking at his devious girlfriend with pure lust and motivation. Thinking about how you’d taken the time out to plan this particular meeting with Jean made his cock start to twitch, knowing how badly you wanted him only made him want you more, which was truly saying something.

“Yes, thirty-five or so minutes… Do you think that’s enough time for us to…”

Your voice trails off as Jean continues sucking on your neck, leaving little marks that make you whimper into him. His hefty palms running up and down the curves of your body. He caresses your ass in both hands and gives them a slight squeeze, keeping them there he leaves a trail of kisses from your neck moving down your chest, then navel and now on his knees looking up at you he worships your cunt over your uniform. Giving little pecks around your hips, lovingly rubbing his hands behind the back of your thighs.

“Come on baby, let’s take these off shall we?”

Getting flustered under Jean’s touch, you nod and let out a “mhmm” gesturing for him to remove the bottom half of your uniform.

He does so carefully, putting one hand out towards yours to help you step out of your trousers, moving the discarded piece of clothing to the side with your foot. Inspecting the wet patch that had now formed in your underwear, Jean grazed his lips over the fabric, causing you to whimper out his name. Not being able to wait any longer he used two fingers from either hand to pull the hem of your underwear all the way down, you cock your leg and allow him to place them to the side. Your now glistening pussy in eye view for Jean he soaks your body in. Putting both hands on either side of your thighs and grabbing the fat gingerly, eyes wide on your beautiful folds.

“Fuck…” He breathes over you, breath fanning your cunt. “Look at my pretty girl getting so wet for me.”

You bite your lower lip at the sensation of Jean calling you a pretty girl, always making you blush no matter how many times he’d tell you. You run your hands through his hair as he starts to slip his wet tongue between your slick, moving up and down in a slow motion a few times before coming to find your sensitive spot. Your grip on his hair starts to tighten as he circles your clit, compelling you to give out a low groan. Jean loved every inch of you but could spend hours just lapping up your cum his mouth, worshipping your delicate little cunt. Seeing how aroused just his tongue could make you made him pull his hand down his trousers to give some relief to his aching cock,grabbing the tip and slowly jerking himself underneath his clothes while the other hands keeps you in place for his now sped up tongue on your swollen bud.

Your moans help direct him into your core as he quickens the pace on his soaked muscle. Knowing exactly what you want and what you sound like when you’re close, Jean can feel you’re almost there. Your hands desperately grabbing and pulling at his hair while his head bobs up and down on your cunt, he takes his hand away from his cock to slip two of his digits inside your wanting hole.

“Fuck, Jean…”

You let out, being unable to keep your balance on the ground but his heavy capable hand keeping you in place. He curls his fingers to hit you in just the right spot, your body hunching over slightly you can feel the warm knot inside you begin to expel, out of nowhere your orgasm comes and a warm sensation runs to your head as Jean continues to finger fuck you with his mouth over your clit. He recognises the familiar reaction of your walls clenching in on him and moves his tongue down to lap up your juices.

“Fuck baby, did that feel good?”

Your cheeks now flustered and your neck damp from the sweat you’d worked up, you breathlessly nod, “Mmm, it felt so good, so good..”

Jean stands up, licking your cum from his fingers and using his thumb to wipe the corner of his mouth. He holds your trembling body in his, moving his hands down below your ass he hoists you up onto him and carries you over to the bed. Gently resting you on your back he comes up to the side of you and gives you a deep kiss. Slowly unbuttoning your shirt as he rests his head lazily on his hand, looking down at you he purrs “We don’t usually have this much time…” His fingers now on the final button, opening your shirt and revealing your bra, he unclasps the front and you adjust to help him take it off, now completely naked.

His gentle fingers run up and down your torso as he looms over you, causing goosebumps along his trail.

“Baby…” Jean whispers in your ear. “Do you want to?”

Without having to say, you already knew what he meant. You thought about it for a brief moment, thinking about how you’d never get another chance like this for a while and how even though this wasn’t the picture perfect place for losing your virginity, you hadn’t bought into those kinds of fantasies anyway. You knew what you wanted, it was what you’d wanted for weeks, you wanted Jean to be the first to fuck you.

“I’m ready, if you are?”

You ask, propping yourself up on your elbows to give yourself a better view of Jean’s face.

“Oh, I’ve been ready baby.”

Jean teases, grabbing onto your side to pull you in closer to him. You roll your eyes at him and laugh at his usual overconfident remark. Smiling into a kiss he pulls his shirt off and while still connected to your lips he moves his body off the bed to hastily remove his pants, not wanting to let go of your face on his he clumsily stumbled whilst getting the last leg of his trousers off his ankle.

Grabbing your hips and pulling you to the edge of the bed he glances down at your perfect body, getting lost in the thought of how someone like him could ever end up with someone like you and how lucky he was. His thoughts were soon clouded by the image of your sloppy cunt, your soft, sweet face below him, ready for him to take you.

Jean was taking in the sight of you beneath him, his thick, long member hard and leaking precum over the tip was almost painful. He lowered himself down onto your body and your legs naturally fell over his shoulders. Grabbing the tip of his cock you looked down and for the first time, you got nervous. You’d seen Jean’s cock before and knew exactly how big it was, but now you were nervous about it fitting inside you, you didn’t want to put him off by telling him just how scared you were so you flung your arms around him and landed your soft lips on his. Jean was rubbing the tip up and down your cunt, the sensation of your slick arousal was driving him insane, he wanted nothing more than to pin your legs back and have at you, but he was tensing hard enough to stop himself.

“You’re so wet for me baby, let’s just take it slow.”

You nod and slide your hands to cup his face. His tip finding its way to your entrance he slowly pushes himself inside and lets out a deep moan, clenching his eyes together.

Your walls instinctively tense up and you’re quick to grab Jean’s shoulders and use them for support. The stretching of your little cunt was getting slightly painful as your eyes started to water. From what feels like forever, his cock is still sliding inside, not even halfway yet, how fucking long was he?

“Fuck, Jean… fuck… just fuck me.”

You cry out as a desperate plea to get Jean to speed up.

Opening his eyes he looks down to see your tensed face, he listens to your orders and picks up the speed. Jean felt bad for feeling so good, your tight pussy clamping down on his cock. His thrusts keeping an even pace, he comes down to suck and lick the groove of your neck, your voice cracks as you try and let out a “Yes, fuck, yes, yes…”

Seeing your face now turn from whimpering to bliss he smiles at his perfect little baby and straightens his back to put your legs on his chest.

Thrusting in and out of your pussy, your cum coats jean’s thick and heavy cock, your moans sounding like sweet music to his ears. Holding your legs he passionately kisses the side of your calf. He pulls his hand down to your chin and holds it in place,

“Hey, look at me. I want you to look at me.”

Your head is foggy and vision slightly blurred but the sound of Jean’s loving voice brings you back to reality, you open your eyes and look directly at him, nothing but the sound of his skin on yours.

“Y/n, I love you.”

Your hand coming up to his on your chin, your eyes widen. You’d never heard him say that before and you just realised you’d never said it either. Which was crazy because without hesitation you knew how you felt when Jean said that,

“I love you too, Jean.”

Jean’s face softened, he looked down at you and smothered your face and neck with kisses that made your eyes roll to the back of your head. The sensation of Jean’s throbbing cock entering and exiting you as well as the attention he was now giving your upper half was driving you insane. The warm feeling returned to your stomach and a new sensation was flooding your insides, you felt like you were going to cum but you were sure you were going to piss yourself.

“Fuck, Jean, I think I’m gonna cum.”

Seeing how crazy his cock was driving you took him over the edge, seeing you all fucked out and in bliss over the fullness of him was just enough to bring him to climax.

“That’s it, fucking cum with me baby, cum on my cock.”

Getting faster you wrap your legs around his torso and let out a loud moan, your eyes wide and back arching you feel your wet cunt thump all over his cock, and just like that Jean wraps his arms around you and groans in your ear, breathy and low, his cock twitches inside of you. His cum empties in your tight hole as he catches his breath around you.

Now limp but still inside you, Jean places a small and delicate kiss on your forehead. Seeing your completely fucked out face he pulls you up and moves around the bed so your head is rested on his chest.

You both breathe in the air around you and take in what had just happened. Jean pulls your chin up with his thumb so you’re looking up at him,

“I do love you y/n, you know?”

Your tired eyes beam up at him and your mouth grows into a smile.

“I love you too, Jean.”

You still had a few minutes left before you had to put your clothes back on and get back out to your friends. So with the little time you had you remained in each other’s arms, just happy to be close.

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