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jenn-ieverse · 2 months ago

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୨ৎ. 🎧 𝇃𝄄ㅤ ઈㅤֵㅤN I K I ‹ ENHYPEN › ๋ ࣭ ⭑

AFTER HOURS

PAIRING ʬʬ badboy¡niki + femalereader

TROUPE ʬʬ badboy x class president

LIST ʬʬ prologue, 01, 02

WARNINGS ʬʬ (for this chapter) just Niki being a subtle asshole, implied toxic friendship, toxic family (mentions of child endangerment and abuse).

A/N ʬʬ I am glad to see that there are people who are actually liking this fic that I started on a whim also this chapter might feel like a filler but it'll get better I swear ♡ If you want to be a part of the unofficial taglist, comment ♡ Do read the previous chapters before reading this!!

AFTER HOURS

“I heard they brought in new snacks in the cafeteria.” Areum has her arm slinged around yours as you involuntarily made your way through the hallways to get to the cafeteria on the ground floor. With your selective hearing technique at its finest, you were barely paying attention to what she was saying. And then you saw him, making his way through the students scattered chatting in the hallway. There were small things that you were starting to notice, how he had always parted a crowd every time he walked, the looks he would get, judgemental ones from the boys and affectionate ones from the girls.

As Niki walked past you, his stare went back and forth between you and Areum with a sign of discontentment. You turn around to watch his back as he walks away, a scene you had become used to seeing. “What's the deal with him?” Areum seemed to have noticed. “I don't know.” you shrugged it off. “You know the word that's been going around?” Areum leans in the whisper as you both climb down the stairs, occasionally waving at familiar faces. “Apparently Niki has submitted all his due assignments and it's because of you.” if you were drinking or eating something, you would've choked. “What? That's ridiculous.” you look around, your tone unstable.

“I know! A smart girl like you will never intentionally get involved with a guy like him. He is trouble.” you nod, not necessarily in agreement but more so to avoid further arguments. “You know why he was transferred from his school in Japan right?” Yes you knew, it was a stupid rumor that he chopped off the hands of a student who touched his school back, ridiculous. No student is capable of something like that, especially Niki.

The reality was that it's been a week since you've talked to each other, the last time was in the infirmary. Since then he treated you like you didn't exist, except times like just now when he'd pass by you, little too close than necessary, your shoulders brushing each time. On the other hand for you, Niki had somehow become highlighted, in a sense that you would always feel his presence, it was weird really. You'd spot him smoking by the school backyard with the other delinquents or walking into a cyber café with them. Sometimes even sitting by himself with a cigarette in hand outside the convenience store.

Each time you didn't have it in yourself to approach him. “But really, don't you find it weird that Niki has started to actually show up in class instead of loitering around.” Areum speculates as both of you walk into the cafeteria. It was true that Niki was starting to be present in the classroom, even though he would sit in the corner most chair by the window, mostly sleeping the whole time. “Minjun oppa!” Areum lets go of your arm and runs to her boyfriend, you scoff. Both of them are literally in the same grade (different classrooms) but she calls him oppa because he is a few months older than her. Cringe.

Do boys really like being called that? “Depends to be honest.” you turn around to see Heesung standing behind you. “Did I say that out loud?” you let out an awkward chuckle to which he smiles, “It's mostly because it gives them a sense of masculinity and superiority.” Heesung says as he buys two cream buns and hands you one. “Thanks.” you smile, peeling the wrapper off the bread as he escorts you back to class. On your way back, you wonder why you never considered Heesung a potential love interest. He's smart, good-looking, self aware (very rare for teenage school boys going through puberty).

Lost in your thoughts you walk into the class, Heesung following closely behind you. “Damn, my bad.” you turn around to see Heesung looking at Niki who was standing by the class’ entrance door. It seems like Heesung had bumped into him, Niki looks at you staring at him and gets inside the class, walking right past you to get to his seat. The teacher enters the class and you take your place in the middle column of the front row. Mrs. Sung takes the podium, “Alright students, have you decided your partners for the project I discussed last week?” She scans the classroom and all the students nod.

The partners were to be selected for this project for this class which was Culture and Heritage. Every duo has to visit a popular tourist site in Seoul and research its impact on increasing international awareness of Korean culture. “Y/N, make a list of the duos and get it to me.” you nod. “Who are you pairing up with?”she asks, “Kang Areum.” you motion to her, “Here!” She raises her hand from the second row. “Areum? How's that possible?” the teacher frowns. “Choi Minjun from class B submitted your name as his partner.” she announces, making the whole class break into hoots, whistling and teasing a now blushing Areum.

You should have seen this coming, knowing that the same project was given to class B, there's no way it wouldn't turn out this way. It's your fault this time, you were too naïve. You turn around to look at Areum who mouths ‘sorry’ with an apologetic pout. “It's alright, I'll do it by myself.” you said with a controlled smile earning a sympathetic look from the teacher, “Isn't there anyone who's left to be paired up?” Mrs. Sung looks at the students hopefully. “Ma'am! Niki. He was not present last week.” a goddamn traitor speaks up, you turn around to see the imposter. Choi fucking Yeonjun. You glare at him but catch the sight of Niki sleeping with his head down, you quickly turn infront to look at the now content teacher.

“Very well then!” she clasps her hands together, “Niki!” she calls out and he sits up, “You are paired with Y/N for the project.” she says before going back to teaching where she last left off. You just now Niki is looking at you right now but there is no way in hell you are going to look back right now. “Fuck my life.” you mumble to yourself.

“I am so sorry Y/N, I had now idea!” As soon as the teacher had left, Areum had walked up to your desk. “A heads up would have been nice, you know.” you said with a sigh. “I swear! I told him I'd do the project with you. I don't know why he told the teacher without asking me first.” her tone had fake perplexity, how could she not know? “I'll buy you your favorite cream buns, you are not mad at me right?” Areum grabs your hands, pouting. You look away feeling awkward in the situation and unintentionally catch a sight of Niki looking at you then turning away scoffing.

“It's fine really. You don't have to, I am not mad at you so don't worry about it.” you slowly pull your hand out of her grip. “Alright, I gotta go talk to Minjun.” the moment you nod, she's out of the door. You turn around to look at Niki who was again staring with the most displeased look on his face. You motion him towards the door and get up to walk out.

When you enter the rooftop, a soft breeze hits your face, you slowly walk towards the guardrails along the edge and lean over. “What?” you turn around to the very familiar voice. Niki stood with his hands pushed inside his pocket, this hair moving subtly with the soft monsoon breeze. “About the project…” he doesn't let you finish, “Cut me out.” he says, his tone leveled and uninterested. As he turns around to leave, you are face to face with him walking away, a very familiar scene indeed.

୨ ₊ ┈ ⪩⪨ ┈ ₊ ୧

With your school bag slumped over your shoulder you enter the basement unit that is supposed to be ‘home'. Before you shut the rusted door, you throw a glance at the dimly lit alley that you walked through to get to your home, the blinking street light about to be exhausted any minute. Monsoon is going to be difficult this year, you think to yourself closing the door.

As soon as you enter the small unit, you notice the scattered glass bottles of soju on the floor. You put your bag down and start by picking up the bottles and collecting them in a corner. Most of the items in the unit were packed into boxes, the remaining place mostly empty due to lack of furniture. While you are cleaning the dishes in the rundown sink, the front door opens. You turn around to look, “Mother, you are back.” the woman in her late 40s stumbles into the floor, another bottle of soju in her hand.

You quickly turn off the water and turn to her, “Mother, we are out of groceries. I don't have anything to make dinner with.” You try to take the bottle from her hand. She jerks away and smashes the bottle into the wall, “All you do is ask for money! You ungrateful bitch!” she yells, her words jumbled due to her drunk state. “It's okay mother, I'll just boil some leftover rice for you.” you quickly move to clean up the shattered glass.

“You should have left with your father, god why didn't he take you away with him!” she wails to the ceiling. You let out a sarcastic laugh, “You think I wanna live here like this?” your mothers eyes widen at your response. “It's suffocating, your voice messes up with my head!” you yell back, heat rising to your face. “How long mother? How long are you going to dwell in the past? He left!” you grab the woman by her forearm, giving her a firm shake.

“He left, and he isn't coming back!” as soon as those words leave your mouth you feel a sharp impact on your cheek. You look at your mother, tears pooling at your eyes, “I didn't have to carry you for nine months. God knows why I did.” her words hurted more than the slap. You search her eyes for some emotion, regret for what she said, shock for what she just did, instead there's just void. Hope feels difficult. You get up, grab your bag and walk out the door wishing to never come back but you know you will.

Hours pass by and you keep mindlessly walking until you are in front of the forest trail. You wonder if you should go back home now but there is not one motivating factor that would drive you to do so. The sun was about to set, an orangish hue spread over the sky reflecting a subtle cast over the tall trees of the forest. Perhaps it's the serenity that pulls you in, you walk into the forest. It's not the first time you've tried to find peace amidst nature so you make your way through the similar trail.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice how deep you were into the forest or how the light of the day had dimmed away. You only notice when a drop of water falls on your head and you look up at the sky. The water droplets start falling faster as you look around frantically, in the haze of your sight you catch a dark wooden cabin and run towards it. “Is this the beginning of a thriller movie?” you whisper to yourself, hesitating to open the door. Shaking away your thoughts you pull the door open.

It all happens within minutes, you are pulled in and pinned against the door, a sharp object pushed against your neck. You don't even get the time to adjust to the darkness when the lights are switched on. “What the fuck?” Niki frowns, backing away. “What the fuck?” you mirror his words, wondering if your prolonged hunger is now leading to hallucinations. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, his face twisting in a displeasing scowl. “I could ask you the same.” you counter attack, “You are trespassing.” you accuse him, “Aren't you too?” he questions, “No- Not really.” you shrug with a fake nonchalance.

“I… I am just taking shelter from the rain.” you say as a matter of fact. Looking around you notice a part of the floor is elevated to make a loft which had a mattress enclosed with simple wooden railing. There was a short staircase adjacent to the wall through which the loft bed was accessible. The lower area has a kitchen with dark cabinets, a sink, and a stovetop, along with countertop space extending beneath the loft. It was clear that someone used to live here. “Leave after the rain stops.” Niki says with simple directness before climbing up to the loft and laying down on the mattress.

“This isn't your place, you can't ask me to leave.” you sit down at a chair that was kept against a small table just beside the entrance door. “Then you'll be just as much as trespassing as I am.” he says with his eyes closed. “Whatever.” you mumble with annoyance, “What were you doing with the lights off anyway?” you question, “Uh, sleeping?” he says in a sarcastic tone which makes you roll your eyes. “What are you doing in the woods at night in pouring rain?” he slightly sits up, his upper body pushed up on his elbows, if he were to sit up straight, he would hit his head, that's how close the ceiling was to the loft.

“Witchcraft.” you replied with a shrug, pulling out your notebook from your bag and going through the assignments for today. You hear him scoff, followed by a rustling indicating that he went back to sleep and so you get to study. Hours go by and you occasionally turn around to look up at the loft to see Niki sleeping with his back facing you. For the first time in years you could study in peace, without the noise of glasses shattering or chain of drunken slurs instead the soft pouring of rain and Niki's occasional shuffles.

ʬʬ Taglist ʬʬ @d-dilemma @onementally-unstabel-kid @shi-toshi @xienoe @reiminder @starfallia @tya0 thank you lovelies, hope you like it!

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drdemonprince · 10 months ago

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Is "safe sex" even real? Never done it so idk but you mentioned risk profiles once. I feel like demographically I've got a higher risk profile and the anxiety about that really prevents me from going and trying anything. Do you think that's overly anxious in a negative way?

"safe sex" is a really misleading and binary term. There is never any guarantee of safety in anything we do. Every choice we make comes with risks. Hell, choosing not to connect with other people sexually (if you have any desire to) does ITSELF come with its own risks and costs over time.

The chase after perfect, guranteed safety will only lead to us feeling powerless and afraid, because it is an impossibility. All that we can do is inform ourselves of the risks, mitigate the risks we are the most concerned about and that affect others, and then knowingly accept what risks we still face as the cost of leading a full, enjoyable life.

When we inform ourselves about risk mitigation, we learn there are certain steps that we should probably take to protect ourselves and others if we are engaging in behavior that carries risk. If you're having sex with a complete stranger, it's probably smart to use a condom. If you have sex regularly you might want an HPV vaccine or to be on PreP to prevent HIV transmission. When you meet up with people you should get tested for COVID. You should get vaccinated against COVID. If you want to get suspended in rope from the ceiling don't use a hardware store $3 carabeener, get the good shit from the rock-climbing supply store. Things like that.

But even if you use a condom, you might get herpes or HPV or crabs or a yeast infection. Even if you never have sex, you might already have herpes or HPV or crabs or a yeast infection. I've had several of those things, including some of the "scarier" sounding ones, and they're really not that big a deal. They're just a thing that happens in life. Most people have them. You pop a Valtrex when you have symptoms, you shove a suppostiory up your vulva when it itches, you sleep without underwear on, you communicate with partners, you move on with your life.

Sure, I do what I can to avoid the risks I am most concerned about. I take PreP right now because not getting HIV would be preferable to me. But I could still live if I got it. I am informed about the realities of living with HIV today, which makes that fear more manageable. It is easier for me to make carefully considered and yet realistic decisions surrounding my risk profile because I can confront the realities that scare me and learn more about them.

The body is not separable form its environment. We are connected to our surroundings and the people around us, and our bodies get sick, catch viruses, grow old, get messy, and die inevitably and return to the earth. With our one life, we each have to choose what is most important to us and what potential costs we can stand. But with each year that passes, a cost to our bodies is already incurred, and there's nothing we can do to prevent aging and death from coming our way.

So what would you like to do while you are around? Would you like to have sex with condoms? Go on PreP? Get the HPV vaccine? Take random loads in a glory hole? Make out and dry hump with a cutie at a party and catch her cold sore? Cross the street in the dark after looking both ways? Go out dancing so late that your sleep is disrupted for the whole week? Get your heart broken? Have a great all-consuming love? Have children? Endure a torn labia while giving birth? Try psychedelics? Go on a swinger's cruise? Get a UTI from spermicide? Roleplay online instead of meeting in person? Fuck people with a strap-on?

The choice is yours. And no choice you make will be perfect or come without risk. No life is safe. Accepting loss is one of the necessary tasks of leading a life. But you can educate yourself, reflect on what you most want out of life and what you fear, and then take steps to demystefy your worst fears and mitigate the risks that loom largest to you and the people you care about.

Whatever you decide, I hope you have some fun.

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bluewxrld07 · 11 months ago

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It’s Always Been You (Ethan Edwards)

In honor of gaining 100 of you guys on my page, here it is!! The much needed part 2 to Hurt My Feelings you’ve all been waiting for. I’ve been taking the time to perfect it, but beware this one’s a long one. Thank you all for 100 followers!!!! I appreciate every single one of you, I cannot wait to share more. Enjoy :)

Ethan Edward’s X female!reader

Warning(s): mutual pining, angst, fluff, hints to smut

If there was one thing y/n was good at, it would be known as her future career and major in school. She was in the progress of becoming a sports social media manager, always locking some of the best shots and behind the scenes when necessary.

She was the one the Michigan athletic department could count on. They had put with the Football team during the fall, and Basketball during the winter. She would sometimes end up subbing in for other sports managers when they had other opportunities in place, or just plain out couldn't do the job at hand. She was the one to call.

If there was one thing she absolutely terrible at, it would be avoiding people.

Especially certain people.

The UMich Basketball team didn't go too far into the season which led to y/n's schedule being more open to doing whatever. Which led to her slowly becoming more involved with their University's Hockey team.

When she was asked to help out with the guys more, she was a bit hesitant. Yes she loved them all and adored getting to be behind the scenes. Especially when it came down to her being there instead of one of the other interns down the road. What wasn't great to deal with, was having to see Ethan more often than she was planning on.

Many of the boys on the team know about her current situation of avoiding Ethan. This was due to the word getting around about her and him's night on New Year's, thanks to Luca spilling the beans when Ethan told him.

The boys all knew to keep their mouths shut about it, due to Ethan still being with his girlfriend, as well as y/n already stressing out about having to work alongside Ethan the rest of the season.

For now, it would be put to the side strictly on the business part of things. Yet it was hard to just act like there wasn't a giant elephant in the room when the pair were in a room together. She did her best keeping it strictly professional and positive when he was around. It seemed to slowly get easier as time went on.

That was until the intern quit, opening the spot fully to y/n to take, which she could never say no to. It was opening an opportunity for her to work in the side of the sports media field she has been waiting for, for much too long.

Especially with the boys making it to the Frozen Four.

This 'avoiding Ethan' chapter really was not going to happen for her the way she wanted anymore. Which concluded of her just never seeing him and talking to him again after he left her there that night.

She could never fathom how hurt it made her. Sitting there for hours on end waiting for his door to finally open its him behind it.

She knew deep down that it wouldn't have happened so easily like that, but part of her couldn't help but hope it would turn out for the best for her.

Y/n tried avoiding Ethan as much as she could after that. It was hard to most days, as the pair had a few classes together, and hung out in the same friend group. The guys could never have stopped hanging out with her, it just wasn't right in their book. Ethan even agreed that it wasn't right.

Of course the two were hurting, they had been inseparable for years on end. It hurt more when y/n would be at games watching from afar, or when his mom would shoot her a text or call asking where she was.

That was until she finally caved and told her everything. She couldn't hold it in from the one other woman in her life that treated her like she was her own child. Y/n told her that even though they were going through, well, whatever this was, that Ethan shouldn't be frowned upon for it.

His mom had agreed with her statement, understanding that the pair of complicated best friends had to figure some things out. They both would find their way back to each some day, is similar to something his mom had told her.

So now here she was, coming off the bus in Florida with the boys for the Frozen Four. Her hair was a mess, the outfit being oversized sweatpants, that she was pretty sure were a certain guy's old pair of pants, and an oversized UMich hockey sweatshirt.

The group gathering around the coaches to hear the spiel, y/n walking into the hotel while having a conversation with Rutger. The group all tired and about ready to take the night to relax before more early mornings continue.

Once they were all given their room keys, they all scurried to their floors and rooms, y/n happy to be getting her own room to sprawl out and do what she wanted. Due to this mainly being because she was the only female besides the adult media manager on the trip.

As soon as her door shut she slumped back against the door, leaning her head against it. Being up at two in the morning for the flight was not ideal in her mind, but she knew that this opportunity would be worth the exhaustion she was feeling.

Y/n tossed her stuff on one of the open beds, stretching out her limbs before plopping herself back on the other free bed in the room.

As soon as her body landed on the comfy mattress, a knock was heard at her door. The girl instantly groaned, turning over to the opposite side to face away from the door.

"Y/n I know you're not sleeping yet open the door," Luca laughed on the other side.

"I'm dead." she groans back to him, her eyes closed while she soaked in the cozy covers.

Luca knocked again. "Y/n/n if you don't open this door I will go tell the front desk I lost my room key for this room," he trails off, her eyes opening with an eye roll.

As much as she would like to still have ignored him and say no, she knew he would absolutely go down to the front desk.

She lets out a puff of air before pulling herself off the bed and towards the door. When she swings it open, she makes sure to give him the harshest scowl she can muster.

"What could possibly be more important than sleep?" she asks, eyeing him as he walks into her room and shuts the door.

He launches himself on the bed she was just laying on making himself comfortable, y/n going to crawl in next to him with the scowl still on her face.

He was laying on his back with his arms crossed behind his head, her laying on her side with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

"The guys and I are all going to sneak into one of the clubs tonight if you want to join," he sits up with a finger pointing up. "Correction. You are joining us in going to the club tonight."

Y/n groans instantly, pulling a pillow to her face. "Luca no I want to sleep before the day we have tomorrow." she groans out with a long whine. Luca rolls his eyes at her playfully.

"Oh come on it would be so fun. Besides, this is basically the time we all are going to get to experience this together." He explains, trailing off in a tone to convince her. She shook her head behind the pillow while humming a 'no'.

"Y/n come on please?" he asks nicely, slowly pulling the pillow down from her face. "It's just there inner circle going tonight if that convinces you."

Y/n stays silent for a moment, letting it sit in her brain for the time being.

"If it's not me dragging you out, I'm making Ethan do it."

"You didn't even give me a chance to think Luca!"

"Well I know that face. It was your 'leaning towards a no' face." he says to her, a pillow being thrown at his face a second later.

"So is that a yes?" he asks, y/n getting off the bed with her hands on her hips. She looks back at him with a look. "I don't really have a choice do I," she retorts.

"Nope!" Luca laughs, clapping his hands together before getting off her bed and heading to the door.

"I'll come get you at nine, sunshine." he sings out while opening her door.

"I'm taking a nap before that then!"

. . . . . . . . . . .

Y/n was finishing up her makeup when she heard the soft knock on her door.

She shook her head at herself while she looked in the mirror. She loved the outfit she chose, going with her hair slicked back in a bun. She was awake, but was also still so exhausted from the morning. The nap not doing much to her energy tank.

She opened the door up to see not Luca, but Rutger standing there on his phone. When he looked up he smiled warmly at her, fanning her off and hyping her up for the night ahead. She blew him a playful kiss before the pair walked downstairs to join the rest of the group, her insides freezing at the sight of Ethan once again.

Sure she should be used to seeing him nowadays, but it was never something she could just get used to. He's been the one giving her butterflies since before she could remember, and the one who makes her heart stutter whenever they're in a room together.

From what she noticed, it was the inner circle as Luca promised.

He was currently smiling and talking with Mark when she walked up to the group, his eyes leaving Mark's as soon as Rutger announced their presence.

Ethan's smile immediately dropped, his mouth staying slightly ajar as his eyes took in her figure. She kept her eyes on his own while she watched him fully take her in, the boy's cheeks turning red when he catches her eyes.

He gives her a small smile, y/n instantly looking away from him and taking a deep breath as she followed the group out to the uber ordered by Luca.

The group all began to pile in, but slowly coming to a halt when it started to become full. "Luca you dumbass how're we all gonna fit into this one uber?" Luke asks as he tries to squeeze into the back.

"Couple of you will sit on the floor, and a couple in the trunk. Not that bad of an idea." Luca snorts, taking his seat in the front passenger side.

"Okay at least give y/n the front seat so she doesn't have to squeeze back here or sit on the floor." Rutger says, motioning to where Luca is sitting.

"Yeah, my dude you gotta be a gentlemen and give her the front seat. No wonder you're single." Mark retorts, earning a smack to the thigh from Luca. Y/n rolls her eyes, an amused look on her face as she hops into the small packed van.

"It's fine, I can sit on the floor. Luca's never changed his ways. Who says he will now?" she jokes, earning a whine from Luca and laughs from the guys.

"Watch it young lady, or I'm gonna kick you out." Luca says, making her eyes light up as he eyes her.

"That's all it takes for me to go back up to my warm and cozy bed? Say less," she says, Luca rolling his eyes with a sarcastic smile thrown her way.

"You wish it were that easy." he says before facing back to the front.

Y/n lets out a huff getting ready to sit on the ground behind Luca's seat, only to have arms slither around her waist and be pulled into a lap.

She lets out a shocked squeak and places her hands on the armrest to steady herself as the car takes off, feeling the hands place themselves on her hips with a squeeze. The hands were an oddly familiar pair she had grown to know all too well.

Y/n slowly turned her head and looked down, only to see the familiar head of brown hair she had been avoiding. He wasn't making eye contact with her, instead was looking over and talking to Mark next to him.

The girl kept her hands on her thighs, squeezing them tightly to keep herself together as she sat on Ethan's lap. His hands stayed on her hips, squeezing every so often which made her freeze and her insides warm each time he did so. It had been so long since she was this close to him at all. Her body didn't know how to react, her mind screaming alarms to her in the process of it.

What about his girlfriend?

Couldn't he just let her sit on the floor?

What would his girlfriend say right now?

Once they arrived to the destination, she had never been more relieved to open the door more than she was in that very moment. She hopped off of his lap as if it didn't happen, waiting for the rest of the boys to pop out one by one.

The group made their way up to the entrance, Luca doing some talking to the bouncer while they all talked amongst themselves for the time being.

A few seconds later Luca looked back to the group with a shit-eating grin, the bouncer opening the door to let them all in. Y/n looked up at the bouncer with a soft smile, thanking them for holding the door open as she walked inside.

As soon as she stepped in, the vibe was completely different. Strobe lights being seen from the hallway they walked through, The Weeknd playing in the background and the smell of marijuana wafting through her nose. Y/n kept herself close to the boys as she looked around the venue and overlooking the balcony they were now on, seeing the pile of bodies below on the dance floor.

All the guys immediately making their way down the stairs, hyped up and talking about what their plans were for the night.

Y/n was still super tired from the flight and already thinking about how early she had to be the following morning. More like counting down the hours till her alarm went off. Which wasn't many.

Luca found a couple of sofas for them to all chill on, announcing the first round of drinks were on him. Each guy listing their drink for him, Luca finally finding Y/n's gaze. She shook her head. "Not tonight. Busy day for me tomorrow." She declines, Luca pouting at her.

"ThO come on, have a few drinks and let loose before chaos begins! Technically I win the busy day argument. I play tomorrow, so it's automatic win for me. What're you having y/n/n? Besides I'm buying pretty girl," he asks, watching her roll her eyes and shrugs her shoulders.

"Tequila and sprite." she caves, waving him away as he pumps his fist in the air at her answer.

"He's ridiculous." she laughs at Mark, the boy nodding his head with a chuckle. "Trust me I know. Try being his roommate."

"I basically was for a year, remember?"

Mark rubs his hand over his face and nods. "How could I forget the year in sophomore house?" he trails off, making her shake her head with a sour face.

"Too much went down." Y/n grimaces, Mark bursting out a laugh at her reaction.

Mark's laughs quiet down a few seconds later, him finally turning his body to face her with a more serious look on his face. "So what's the word between you and Eddy now?" he says, her stomach tightening.

"Meaning what?" she asks, looking away from Mark. He snaps his fingers back at her to make her eyes look back into his own.

"Real shit," he says. "What's going on now? You two still not talking?"

Y/n shook her head, her fingers picking at her pants. "I can't Mark. Not after New Years." she admits.

"You mean when you two finally got into it?" he asks, her nodding with an eye roll.

"We shouldn't have done that Mark. He cheated on her with me. You know how I feel about that type of stuff." she admits, watching him purse his lips.

"Sorry sweetheart but one, you kissed him from my understanding. Two, so what? She's a puck bunny anyways, y/n. She wants nothing more than the attention that comes with dating Eddy," Mark admits, and Y/n puts her face in her hands. "Well I should say came with dating Eddy. Past tense." Mark slips out, y/n's hands leaving her face to look at him with a frown.

"What do you mean past tense?" she asks. Mark looks around them to see all the other guys in their own conversations. Then turns his attention back to her.

"The only other people that know is everyone in this club in our group. So don't say anything till he's ready to tell you," Mark starts, her face contorting to more confusion as he goes.

"She broke up with him the day you two saw each other at the library. The day you were leaving with Rut's girl." he explains, watching the girl's face turn from a frown to complete shock in a matter of milliseconds.

"Wait what? There's no way, they were kissing and being all lovey-"

"It was after you left she decided to do it. She saw how he looked at you when you were leaving, and knew right then and there she had no part of him to herself anymore. So she dumped him right then and there." he finishes, watching y/n's face fall as she facepalms.

"Mark that was weeks ago! I'm now just finding this out? Why now?" she stutters out, Mark putting his hands on her arms. He makes her look up at him.

"Because he said you deserved your space, especially after he left you there in his room that night. He said that wasn't something he should just drop on you when you were feeling so many different things."

"Goddammit Ethan." she mumbles out, her eyes looking over the boy her heart wanted so much, watching him laugh with Rutger and Luke.

"You can't tell him I said anything-"

"And I'm back with drinks! Let's get this shit going!" Luca announces out, walking back with two drinks in his own hands, a server next to him with a tray of their drinks to set down.

Luca picks up Y/n's drink, bowing towards her with a smirk. "You're drink m'lady." he says with a fake accent, making her smile at him.

"Why thank you kind sir." she chuckles, taking a sip.

"Alright, now that drinks are ll sorted out, let's go dance dudes! Plenty single ladies, and plenty of dance floor!" Luca hoots, fist-bumping his way into the crowds with the some of the other guys.

She gives Mark a knowing look, indicating she understood what he was going to finishing saying. He reached down and squeezed her hand before disappearing into the crowd.

Y/n was too tired to want to join, not wanting to be there in the first place. She sipped on her drink slowly, her eyes people watching as she sat there, music bumping loudly.

She would much rather be sleeping in her bed. She'd rather be decompressing and charging up for the busy days ahead she knew were going to be horrific.

Y/n let out a huff as she looked into the dancing crowd, seeing and spotting each boy doing their own thing.

Her eyes stopped when they found Ethan's. His eyes were already on her own. Their eyes like magnets to one another. It always felt like things were going so much slower when they locked eyes. Like it was just them in the room.

Y/n bit her lip, shaking her head slightly to herself and finally broke their staring contest. She looked down to her drink, gulping down what she could to help herself feel a bit more loose than she planned.

At this point in the night, she was avoiding his eyes, knowing they were constantly being put on her. She could sense it. Sense him. It was like a sixth sense almost.

During a certain point in the night, y/n made her way over to the bar to get herself another drink.

If she was going to be stuck here, thanks to Luca, she might as well not be sober and enjoy her time while it lasted. A hangover wouldn't be the worst thing for her after the last few weeks she's been dealing with.

She gives the bartender a warm smile, yelling out a 'thank you' over the loud music and turned away from the bar to lean back against it. She took a sip of her third glass of the evening, already feeling the oh so familiar buzz coming on. She let it take over her nervous system, closing her eyes and her head tilting back while blowing out some air.

House of Balloons played out, making y/n smile to herself as she began to sway to the music.

The girl began to sing out the lyrics, knowing the song all too well as it made her feel some type of way every time she heard it. It brought out something in her each time any music like this played, her actions becoming harder to control especially when intoxicated.

Which was where she was at right now.

When she opened her eyes to look at the crowd, biting her lip as she watched many people paired together dancing the night away, grinding bodies are the only thing to be seen on the dance floor.

The lights were dark, flashes of different shades of reds straying out every so often, those flashes being the only lights in the entire place.

As if she could feel it once more, she finally found the familiar eyes that had been finding her figure all night. This time it was making her heart race.

He slowly starts to make his way to her, y/n's heart rate picking up as he got closer.

Before she knew it, he was in front of her standing over her figure.

He reached his hands out to her as if asking her to join him, the girl's eye not leaving his own.

So instead of walking away like she wanted to, after all this time she spent avoiding him.

She gave in.

Y/n sat up straight, her empty glass long forgotten now on the table behind her. She had to still look up at him due to their height difference, but nonetheless had let her hands slide into his own.

He slowly backed his way into the crowd of dancing people, the music setting the vibe and pace for the pair on the floor.

They found a spot away from the other boys, secluded in the crowd surrounded but hundreds of strangers but only entranced in one another. Their eyes never left one another, no matter if they tripped of bumped into other people.

His forehead found her own, his hands still entwined with her own to show he wouldn't push unless she gave him the green light. He wanted to show her he would move at her own pace.

To Y/n, for the first time in weeks, wasn't scared of what would happen or what wouldn't happen. Ethan was taking the lead to show her he was still in it, but at the same time was taking it slow to not push her further.

He closed his eyes as the song played in the background, his mouth starting to sing along to the words.

Face it, you want it, you crave it

Believe when I say that you'll know once you taste it

Y/n watched his lips move, her heart pounding out of her chest as they had their moment. Like they were the only two existing in that room.

She was letting the alcohol take over her nerves, letting it do what she knew she wouldn't be able to do completely sober.

Y/n slipped her hands from Ethan's only to place them over the top of his hands to lead them onto her waist, hers going to slowly slither around his neck.

Ethan opened his eyes to look down into hers, his hands sliding down from her waist, wrapping low around her hips just above where her lower back met her backside.

Y/n took the opportunity to let her hands cup both sides of his jawline, looking up into his eyes then down to his mouth as she sang along to the song this time.

What the hell were we? Tell me we weren't just friends

This doesn't make much sense, but I'm not hurt I'm tense

Cause I'll be fine without you babe

Her eyes found his again, the two wrapped up in one another's company, tension building more by the minute. Y/n bit her bottom lip once again, trying to stop her thoughts from getting bigger and bigger as they sway with one another.

She snapped out of her daze when she felt his thumb slowly pulling her bottom lip free from her teeth, rubbing it slowly after. His eyes went down to her lips as he leaned in, but stopping just millimeters away to let their lips brush ever so slightly.

"Please," he says, his voice weak. Just wanting to finally have her to himself. "It's always been you, y/n. Always."

He put both of his hands on the crook of her neck where it met her jawline, her hands wrapping softly around his wrists. He could see her having an argument with herself, the boy saying her name to catch her attention. "I know I've been a fucking idiot and an asshole to you. You don't deserve any of it. Slap me, punch me, kick me in the nuts I don't care what. Just please don't push me away anymore." Her eyes lock with his once again.

"I won't hurt you," he assures her, shaking his head. "Not again. Not ever. Just please. Let me prove to you. Let me prove it's always been you." he begs her.

Y/n stills for a moment, knowing that she wants this just as bad as he does. Probably even more than he ever would.

"Eddy,"

"Yeah?"

"Kiss me. Please kiss me."

Ethan didn't even let her finish her sentence, immediately placing his lips over hers in a bruising kiss. Tongues and teeth clashing when they connected, immediately y/n sighs into his mouth. Her body calming instantly at the feelings of his lips on her once again after far too long.

It didn't take long for his hands to leave the sides of her face, wrap around her waist and pull her impossibly closer to his own body. Her hands finding the back of his neck, letting her elbows rest on his shoulders while her hands pulled at his hair.

Their lips moving in sync, things becoming more heated the more they kissed.

His lips finally broke from hers only to kiss down her jaw to her neck and collarbone, y/n moving her head to the side for him to gain more access as her hands pushed his head further into her. She was becoming more and more enticed by the feelings of his lips and touch on her, it was like a drug she couldn't escape.

When his lips latched on the all too familiar sweet spot she let out a breathless moan, feeling him chuckle in her neck. He broke his kisses for a second, only to bring his lips to her ear to whisper something.

"Only I will get to ever make you make those sounds. Not Luke, not anybody," he pants into her ear before leaving a soft kiss on it, going back to attacking her soft spot as she bit her lip to hide a smile.

"Still on that whole ordeal are you?" she chuckles but it's turned into another moan when his teeth bite on her neck, his hands moving down to her ass and squeezing at the same time.

"Don't get yourself into more trouble, brat." he tells her, his tone darker than usual. She just nods, taking his head away from her neck to bring his lips back to her own. "As long as you promise to never hurt me again, I think I can manage."

He smiles against her lips, placing a hand on her neck. "I've got lots of making up to do, don't you think pretty?" he mumbles in between kisses, hearing her hum with a nod.

"Let's get out of here shall we?" he says, placing one more kiss to her lips before looking down at her. Ethan had to bite his lip from going back in, seeing the marks littered on her neck and her swollen lips making his pants tighter.

He just about loses it right there when she bites her lip and pulls him closer by his waistband.

"Lead the way, baby."

#hockey boys #angst #y/n #ethan edwards x reader #umich hockey #fluff #Ethan Edwards fluff #Ethan Edwards imagine #Ethan Edwards #Luca fantilli #Luke hughes #mark estapa #umich blurbs #umich imagine

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aphroditelovesu · 5 months ago

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Kitten Pajamas

❝commission: a slightly angsty oneshot that incorporates the kitten pajamas somehow. I'm imagining a situation where Alexander sees them out and starts asking her (again) where she's from. Basically, something that shows she's managed to avoid telling him. — requested by 💻 anon.

❝ 📜 — lady l: I got a little emotional while writing this, don't ask me why, since I don't even know the answer, but I liked how it turned out. I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes! 🤎

❝tw: slight angst.

❝📜pairing: slight yandere!alexander the great x female!reader.

❝word count: 1,180.

You stared at the kitten pajamas with a soft smile curving your lips, your fingers sliding over the soft fabric, almost as if they were tracing every detail, every line of the embroidery that made up the kittens' faces. With each touch, it was as if the memories of home, tucked deep in your mind so that you wouldn't go completely crazy, began to infiltrate your mind, bringing with them a mixture of longing and comfort.

The truth is that you had completely forgotten about the existence of those pajamas. They were stored, well protected at the bottom of a trunk, inside your tent, along with other things that you, in your busy routine full of responsibilities, rarely allowed yourself to revisit. It was as if that small piece of clothing, with its slightly worn fabric, was the only physical reminder of a life that seemed increasingly distant, something almost untouchable.

You had no specific reason to go through the trunks that day. You were just bored, trying to shake off the monotony that surrounded you, when a sudden burst of energy made you decide that maybe it would be a good idea to explore those forgotten corners. Who knows what you might find?

It was like that, amidst the dust and the smell of things stored away for a long time, that you found the pajamas. Cleaning had never been your favorite activity, but at that moment, as you held that small piece of clothing, you felt an unexpected joy. It was as if, for a moment, you had returned home, and the kitten pajamas were the thread that connected the future to the present.

A feeling of melancholy took hold of you, like a slow and inevitable wave, as your eyes traveled over every detail of the pajamas. Your fingers, once delicate, now gripped the fabric with more force than necessary, as if they wanted to extract more than just memories from that worn-out piece.

Home.

Such a simple word, yet so powerful at the same time. It echoed within you, awakening an emptiness that, although familiar, seemed to deepen with each passing day. Longing was something you had learned to carry, but at that moment, you felt its weight more than ever. The pain of being away, of feeling increasingly disconnected from everything you knew and loved, tightened your chest with an almost suffocating intensity.

You realized that, over time, you had begun to think less and less about home. When you first arrived here, the memories of your family and friends had been vivid, constant. But now, almost without realizing it, those memories were becoming hazy, distant, as if time was slowly erasing their faces, their voices, their smells. This was even more painful. The idea that you might be forgetting, that those people who had once meant so much to you were turning into shadows, filled you with a deep, painful sadness.

It was as if, in trying to adapt to this new place, you were leaving behind parts of yourself, parts you didn’t want to lose. And now, holding your pajamas, you realized that those parts were fading away, becoming nothing more than memories. The idea that your home, your real home, was becoming a distant memory was an unbearable thought.

You didn't even notice when the tears you were holding back started to run down your face, but you did notice when you heard a voice that haunted you as much as it comforted you echo in the silence of the tent.

"Why are you crying?" Alexander's voice rang out, filled with a concern he rarely showed. He approached you with barely audible steps, his calloused hands gently touching your shoulders, trying to offer some comfort, even without knowing the exact cause of your sadness.

Instinctively, you wiped the tears with the palm of your hand, trying to disguise the pain that still throbbed in your chest. Shaking your head in a gesture of denial, you looked up to meet his eyes, while still holding your pajamas tightly, as if they could anchor you to reality.

"Just some memories." You murmured, your voice low and heavy with emotion. Your eyes reflected a quiet sadness. Alexander, noticing the fragility of the moment, did something unusual for him: he didn’t insist, didn’t press you to explain further. Instead, he remained by your side, his gaze now fixed on the pajamas in your hands.

"This fabric..." He began, his voice hesitant as he tried to piece together a vague memory. Your eyes narrowed in concentration. "I’ve seen it before, haven’t I?"

Your hands began to sweat, as a slight panic settled over your body. You needed a good excuse, and fast. The last thing you wanted was for him to start questioning you incessantly, like he always did, with that relentless way that seemed to see through any disguise.

"Now I remember, you were wearing this when I first met you." Alexander spoke, his voice slightly accusatory but curious.

"Yes, I was wearing this." You mumbled, sighing.

Alexander took the pajamas in his hands, examining the fabric and the designs curiously. ''I've never seen anything like this before. Where is this from, exactly?''

"From the same place I came from, Alexander." You replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "It's pretty far away, you know? This fabric is common where I'm from. Everyone has something like this, it's very... Common and normal." You could feel your own hesitation showing in your words, and you mentally cursed yourself for sounding so anxious. You couldn't let him see how uncomfortable you were.

Alexander continued to stare at the pajamas for a few more seconds, as if he was trying to absorb every detail, searching for some hidden meaning. You knew you needed to change the subject of the conversation before he started questioning you more deeply.

"It's a simple piece, but it has sentimental value." You added, trying to sound casual. "That's all. Maybe we can put it back in the trunk and you can tell me about some of the new spoils of war?" You gave him a half-hearted smile, trying to direct his attention elsewhere.

Alexander looked up at you, and for a moment, he seemed to consider your words. He wasn’t one to leave questions unanswered, but perhaps he realized that this wasn’t the time to press. With one last glance at the pajamas, he finally handed them back to you, shrugging.

As he stepped aside to make room for you to put them away, you let out a sigh of relief. For now, you had managed to divert his attention, but you knew he wouldn’t forget so easily. Alexander was persistent, and that meant that sooner or later, you would have to deal with these issues again. But for now, the comforting silence of the tent reigned once more, and you put the pajamas away at the bottom of the trunk, trying to let the painful memories lie dormant for a little while longer.

#history #x reader #yandere history #yandere historical characters #yandere alexander the great #yandere alexander the great x reader #alexander the great x reader #the lost queen #tlq #commission #💻 anon

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jazzyblusnowflake · 10 months ago

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Alright, we've had Nuzi headcanons. We've now had Vuzi headcanons... Let's heart it, you're Violent Biting Biscuits headcanons, N x Uzi x V... Or if you'd rather complete the set, eNVy headcanons. I am curious of both. (Your headcannons are just super cute)

Holy hecc, I'm so sorry for answering these asks so late but i'm gonna be honest- I just never think anyone likes my writings or ever reads them XD

okay then lets see- my ViolentBitingBiscuits headcanons- i will put eNVy for the next ask because someone else asked for it too and they wont all fit here lol.

My NUziV headcanons ovo<3 :

[once again these are only the drone versions, the human versions aren't involved / also i may add some 🔞🔞🔞 ones this time lol >:3 also uhhh apologies in advance but this one is long as all hell so....um]

K we know the drill, they are all together- hopefully in the future- even if any of them dies i'm gonna pretend i do not see 🙄 deadass gonna treat this like the jjba fandom- my faves are ALIVE AND WELL SHUT UP ARAKI-

Okay so there's some things that we have already mentioned in the previous headcanons- ill try to not repeat them unless they are necessary but ill also try to treat this as its own post and lightly repeat them real quick too-

N and V started out fighting over Uzi, and Uzi obviously was mostly into N at first- but after a while i guess Vs advances got to her- especially since she was- in a way- so desperate for attention/affection, so it felt a little overwhelming to her but in a good way. they very obviously flirted with her which got them silently treating it as a challenge- and Uzi being Uzi obviously loved the attention she got out of it- opting to let this just... kinda continue lmao. she didn't expect to let it go far enough for her to end up with both of them but here we are XD

We slightly touched this topic before about V but to reiterate- all of them have different levels of trauma that they all deal with and currently V has gone through the worst of it, both having to endure Cyn's torture in her mindspace and also having to watch N get slaughtered in front of her and possibly even having a hand in it. She fears losing people that mean to her so she became avoidant with a difficult personality to guard whatever's left of her. It took a really long time for her to decide to be with the two and to protect them and not run away from her feelings for anyone or anything. but some days its still difficult for her so sometimes N and Uzi have to literally trap her into a wrestling cuddle pile or something to get her to just... exist, without feeling like the whole universe is weighing her down. N and Uzi want her to know they are there to protect HER from those inner demons too.

sometimes the cuddle piles end up with N and V once again trying to get Uzi's attention lmao which ends up with them being a little too horny on main- whoops :) - everything starts with a little nibble here, a small bite there - maybe some pillow fights and climbing over eachother or holding one another down in different positions- aaaand then they wake up a few hours later with Uzi having regrets cuz these two are horny as f-

ANYWAY- N is probably the most patient of the 3, and although he usually never breaks up fights because he trusts the other two to handle their own problems without him needing to mom them, sometimes Uzi and V go a lil too far and he gets very tired of dealing with this kind of behavior. he never blows up at them- but he usually goes away to take a breather- sometimes hanging out with Thad or the other drones- and during this time Uzi and V kinda feel bad- but then they would think of stuff like maybe planning dates or getting food for him, draw stuff on cards and etc- or go around trying to find gifts to make him happy<3 sometimes they might add some extra kisses and unwinding sessions in the end as an extra treat :p N always forgives them obviously, he just needs some guys night out every once in a while or something lmao-

Getting close to Uzi became an excuse for N and V to get closer to eachother too. ironically, it first started with them bantering about who is better at what- but then it turned into unironically flirting and teasing eachother- but after a while they realized their relationship isn't going to ever be the same as what it was back in their old days but its also something completely new, so they become more willing to accept one another and explore their newer dynamic.

they all love being coddled and pampered every now and then. Uzi and V may not outright admit it- but they really do too. so they take turns with who they put in the middle of receiving affection :p

N and V are VERYYYYYY over protective of Uzi. to the point that they wouldn't even let the doctor [for tech repair obviously] check Uzi or touch her in any way when she had a small virus case lol. Khan had to pay the poor doctor extra for that.... deciding to leave his daughter in her room in a cuddle pile of two murderous demons that have glowing cat eyes every time he comes in the room smh.

V and N really like cuddling Uzi and sticking their hands under her clothes. or sometimes just flat out sleeping or cuddling naked. its less of a sexual thing and more so to do with the fact that the two MD's have higher body temperature and a less efficiant body for cooling- since they have a more compact torso and a lot less oil and coolant fluids going through them [since they need to consume it continuously] and having a bunch of working nanobots and nanites shoved into them to turn into weapons/wings/etc- and Uzi- although having the AS- is still very much less in need of cooling due to still having a more efficient body design for a "exoplanetary worker unit", with a still functioning cooling system inside that doesn't necessarily need extra oil to make it work unless under stressful conditions.... even if she probably does have worms and fleshy tentacles inside her now lmao. But either way Uzi's body is still a lot colder than the others so she's usually shared in the middle and at this point Uzi cant even be embarrassed when they slide their hands under her clothes and grab her wherever smh..... although V also does it as a semi possessive thing so there's that pfft. she was especially handsy after that doctor left XDDD.

Yes Uzi has very much in fact ended up at the medical/tech repair unit multiple times because N and V have sometimes ended up being a bit too much for her to handle- and the doctor [a character yall shall meet later] has absolutely had it. She had to literally sit the 3 down, explain to them their body differences via scans and the damages they may cause Uzi and it was basically the robot version of having "the talk" with your child- and Uzi wanted to die there and then.

Uzi sometimes just tells the two to drink blood from her- the first time they wanted to share oil they were scared about accidentally causing Uzi to overheat- but after a few times of trying it, they continued doing it more frequently either by kissing and regurgitating or taking turns to bite Uzi or vice versa. N and V typically don't use one another's oil because they already have high usage as it is, it wouldn't be efficient. admittedly N and V always have concerns when it came to biting Uzi- but somehow they found out Uzi actually enjoys it a little when they do it and well...they get ideas lmao- they just make sure to lick her indents clean with their regenerative saliva to make the AS work as little as possible on Uzi's body.

N really enjoys seeing his partners smooch..... for study purposes ofc lmao- actually he uses his visor to take pictures sometimes- let the man be a little horny in peace smh. and don't worry Uzi and V know all this- they just wanna tease him a little bit :p

Uzi and N usually chit chat while they are in the bed until they fall asleep- but V prefers to just hug Uzi on the side listening to them while they talk until she falls asleep too

they love going around in human based areas with shops and stuff to find books to read together or any other fun human stuff they can find- maybe table top games? lol- V goes for the sports stuff. she kinda wanna try hitting something with a bat...

[okayyyy so tumblr doesn't let me write any more XD i def have more ideas but oh well. also ill save the eNVy for another ask that i have in my inbox so you'll get that soon too :p]

#murder drones #nuzi #vuzi #nuziv #nuvi #biscuitbites #violetviolence #eNVy #envy murder drones #violentbitingbiscuits #enzi #snowballflo #serial designation n #serial designation v #uzi doorman

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bloomingkyras · 16 days ago

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Travelogue Journey with Shawn Takahashi a Bachelorette Challenge

I'm back.. with a new Bachelor..

In this season, we will go travel with Shawn and get to know him or 😉. That not just travel but there will be a challenge that the contestant have to compete.

But let's meet the Bachelor.

Meet Shawn Takahashi, age 32, A freelance painter and A traveler. He Asian Mix America which his mum are from MT.Komorebi and His dad from San Myshuno. He is the only child and very closed to his parent. Since he too busy with his job and sometime travel, he never had a chance to find love. He only had a crush when in Senior years.

And now he ready to meet and mingle with new people. More detail about his BC are under the cut.

Who is He looking for?

Ladies only (he's straight btw) | Background stories are welcome.

U can give any traits (but please give 1 negative traits and avoid using love bug, romantic & romantically reserved if u have lovestruck) aspiration, skill (please have ur sims a skill minimum level 4), like & dislike or if ur sims had a job then it's ok, so we can continue her job if she win later.

if u have Lovestruck u can set ur sims their turn on and turn off but if u don't have that pack u can let me know what her turn on and turn off.

human only (occult next time ok)

To be fair since my sim had cc on him, u guy also can use cc for cloth or either way but Maxis match / Maxis mix are ok but no alpha hair. I have all the pack.

Regarding this BC gonna be some kind of globetrotter, some adventure activities and also there will be a party, please give ur ladies a proper outfit (if u want me to put them the outfit also can)

Don't worry about skin default or eye default I won't be touching any of ur ladies genetic. I will only change,if the item on her missing or broken.

How and where was the challenge gonna happen? or are there's a challenge they have to join? (😈)

This is the house where some of the event will happen and some of them will be outside MT.Komorebi.

There will be a challenge after or before the group party (i'm still drafting the challenge when this post up and will be update once the BC start)

If u are my former BC or have being in my BC before, u know that I use a lot of pose mod and script but this time I'm gonna take a break from it. and use the pose mod when necessary. Wicked whim? hmm...if it's happen then I just let its happen but no 18+ post 😎.

All the impression are from Lovestruck ep and 1st impression mods

All ladies will have their solo date with Shawn before they compete into a challenge. And the winner of the challenge each week will have a special treat from Shawn.

Just like My previous BC challenge, If any of the ladies being caught have a feeling toward other contestant, they will get eliminate but I'm not that cruel, I will check their challenge point that they collect and if the point lower, she will be in the list of elimination. And there will be for the 1st time in my BC, we will have Rose ceremony.

And here come the part where's how many ladies will be taken.. For this event there's will be 2 group. Means, there will be 10 ladies in the house. (I will post more detail once the BC start cause it's will impact the challenge too)

How to submit?

Since there will be a holiday, event and I'm also will be flying back to my country. I will not put any date of sims submission. U can just drop ur sims tray file to my messages (i will set the chat for everyone) once u done with them or u can post ur sims and tag me #TJ With Shawn, so I can drop by to pick ur sims up, if u can't reach my chat. Yes u can reserve, if u really want to join. I will only close the submission after I have all the 10 ladies and the post will be live after that.

what else...hmm..10 ladies for future kyra to handle...I think that it's. And I'm proudly welcome to everyone with 10 of their Ladies to join this BC and have fun with Shawn. So that it from me and if u have any question feel free to sent an ask. -Love kyra -

i forgot, I want to say thanks to my mutual who inspired me to do this challenge again and letting me get some idea from u ❤️

#TJ with Shawn #the sims 4 #the sims 4 bachelor challenge #sims 4 challenge #Sims: Shawn #the sims 4 gameplay #ts 4 bachelor challenge #ts4 gameplay #sorry if my english and typing error #i post this BC early so u guys can take ur time to plan what sims u want to sent.#spread this news for anyone who wants to join this BC.#tq i love u guys 💜#show us your sims

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frogthane · 21 days ago

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I’ve got some thoughts on Mouthwashing. Unsurprising, really. The developer did an excellent job with the unique style of the game as well as its themes (shoutout Wrong Organ!). Anywho, I wanted to focus on everyone’s struggles and how they all remain so human despite what circumstances threw their way. Except Jimmy. Fuck you, you were a monster before the ship crashed.

Daisuke is a sweet kid, still struggling to figure out what path he should head down and feeling the pressure from his parents. Despite his internal struggle, he’s still hardworking at everything he tries, even if he may not be the best at it, and naturally brightens those around him. During the rough months that followed the crash, leading to his easily avoidable death, he may have gotten sucked into the mouthwash, but he still cared for his crew mates and tried his best.

Swansea. A man dragged back to his addiction in trying times, sucked to the bottom of a bottle. Swansea had known difficult times before boarding the ship. He’s been an alcoholic, but turned his life around to become a better father and play into the world’s capitalistic tendencies. And yet, he still thinks back on his days blackout drunk as the best days of his life. He knew what his greatest problem was. Now, there was a role he was meant to follow along with the rest of society. Get a job. Have a family. Pay your taxes. Work diligently until retirement. His days of alcoholism were controlled by the drink. The days that followed were controlled by a government that couldn’t give less of a shit about him as an individual. So yes, he was bitter. He noticed the cogs of the world and became a grumpy old man. But, he was made more human when working with Daisuke. He still saw the innocence within the boy, the innocence he once possessed before descending down a cold endless road. He could be condescending at times, but I sort of interpreted their relationship as found family. Swansea took Daisuke under his wing and guided him through the work, protected him from danger. Until he witnessed innocence stolen once more, and from there, there was no going back. The cryopod he had so desperately been saving for this young boy was a waste, he had to spare Daisuke from agony and end it then and there, and he turned his rage on the one that took it all.

Anya. A poor girl who struggled in med school, now scared of the place she had come to consider her new home and family. “I have to believe that our worst moments don’t make us monsters, Jim.” “Why does the infirmary have locks but not our sleeping quarters?” A girl also stripped of her innocence by the very same man responsible for Daisuke’s demise. Alone in her quarters, no one heard her pleas for help when someone slipped into her room. No one listened to her pleas when she confessed to the captain she was pregnant. And no one understood the danger she tried to protect them all from by hiding the gun. She was all alone aboard that shop, despite being surrounded by people. Despite her attacker’s attempts to diminish her abilities as inferior, Anya was capable. She single handed lay kept the captain alive in unsanitary conditions, with few supplies and a stressful environment. She knew that even if she ever did get off this ship, her life was over. It would have been difficult enough finding another job with her education, but now she would have a child to look after too with critique from the media. Through it all, Anya did what she thought was necessary.

Curly. Captain Curly. The alleged perpetrator of crashing the ship into a meteor. Of all his flaws and faults, this was the one action he was innocent of. This doesn’t make him a nice guy. He may have seemed like a jolly fellow, solely interested in holding his crew together and making the best of their life, but to do so, he believed he first had to ignore the negative. So no, his friend wasn’t a bad guy, he just made a mistake, but he could talk this out, figure out what really happened, because they’d been together for a while, and so he would listen. Curly had his chance to take action. He could have eased Anya’s worries and reprimanded his friend, taken action to make sure he’d stay far away from Anya. He could have prevented this crash and done something when his friend said, “I’ll take care of it.” His end was fitting. Stuck on a table, watching his crew fall apart. He had his chance to take action, and so now he would see what it was to be truly incapable.

Jimmy. Friend. Team member. Copilot. Rap*st. Crasher. Liar. Coward. Murderer. But certainly not a hero, no matter what end he desired. He was the catalyst for it all. Jimmy urged Daisuke to crawl through that vent. Jimmy drove Anya to commit suic*de. Jimmy shot Swansea in the head. But hey, at least he took responsibility, right? He stepped up, led the crew, found codes, obtained medical supplies, kept the peace. As long as he took responsibility, right? He oh so bravely sacrificed himself and saved Curly, dying as a hero. Sorry. He uttered those words to one being, and you know who it was? A fucking pony. He views Swansea as the drunk, Daisuke as a worthless kid, Anya as an inferior being, Curly as someone he’s placed on a pedestal, a god. And only he and Curly can fix this now. Take responsibility.

It’s a devastating story about how a situation can introduce an individual’s demons. And I can’t help but feel bad for Swansea and Daisuke, two members who just happened to be on the ship when the other three became involved in a horrible situation (I say became involved in instead of cause because Anya is a victim and in no way caused any of it by speaking up). The wails of Anya’s unborn infant that rang through the halls as the ship first collided at the beginning will continue ringing through my ears for a little while, and I will not soon forget this game.

#mouthwashing #video games #analysis #indie #indie games #psychological horror #anya mouthwashing #swansea mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing #captain curly

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winterarmyy · 1 year ago

Text

Promise Me | Part II

When he was sent out for war, Bucky made a promise to his lover that might just last through several lifetimes.

Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end)

Words: 5.2k++

Pairing: 40s!bucky / eventually tfatws!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: little angst, melancholy but fluffy stuff, we have bucky's pov in this one, lovers who missed each other very much, emotional reunion, probably bad writing of fighting scenes (sorry guys), mentions of suicide, mentions of sexy times, death of main character (y/n' s past life), another attempt to follow mcu timeline, otherwise, nothing that's too heavy/sensitive for anyone to read.

P/S: Thanks so much for the feedbacks in previous chapters! Here's the new update, guys! I hope you enjoy your reading!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Brooklyn, 2024 – Glimpses of the past

"So, Mr. Barnes, are you still having nightmares?" Dr. Raynor asked as she leaned leisurely on her chair. However long it had been since the first time she met Bucky on their first therapy session, she still couldn't crack the man to talk more than he deemed necessary.

Bucky sat silently on the sofa that was certainly big enough to fit three people with its size; he stared blankly at the door behind Dr. Raynor, wanting to avoid eye contact with the woman.

"James, I asked you a question." She prompted as she crosses her legs together. "Are you still having nightmares?"

If he wanted to be truthful, then his answer would've been yes, however he decided to test if she managed to see through him, "No." He replied with a convincing tone.

Dr. Raynor paused for a moment as she eyed his behaviour, "We’ve been doing this long enough that I can tell when you’re lying." She quirked her eyebrow as if she was non-verbally asked him to cut the crap.

"Well, you seem a little off today. Did something happen recently?"

Yes. Something did happened recently.

Sure, there was the horrid nightmare that had been haunting him in his sleep most of the nights, but lately there was something else that's been making unannounced appearance in his dreams. Something much older than his memories of the Winter Soldier.

They were glimpses of the past where he was but a man in his mid 20's living his best life with a woman he thought he was going to end up growing old with.

Bucky saw images of his younger, undamaged self tangled up in bed with that woman. His hands raking through the softness her hair as he pushed the mess away from her face. And when she whined in her sleep he would let out a soft chuckle as he lovingly stroke his thumb across her cheek.

He remembered feeling the tug in his chest when the morning light touches her bright eyes as she peeled them open. He remembered the sweet smile she graced upon him as she pulled him in for an innocent kiss. He remembered the warmth of her naked skin rubbing against his own when she snuggled back into his body.

Those were always a pleasant dream to have during his sleepless nights. However rare it was to have them; he found himself spared in the gentle grace that she left behind from those loose pieces of memories. He realized that his broken soul yearns for her peace more than his will longs for his freedom.

"No." He lied again.

"You’re a civilian now. With your history, the government needs to know that you’re not gonna…" Dr. Raynor gestured her hands as if there was an invisible knife in her grasp as she motioned a stabbing movement.

Bucky let out a silent sigh, nodding his head with a somewhat forced derpy smile as she continued to explain, "It’s a condition of your pardon. So, tell me about your most recent nightmare."

However, Bucky remained stubborn on keeping the memories of his past lover to himself. He simply shook his head as he briefly looked to the side and out the window, before coming back and confessed, "I didn’t have a nightmare."

Dr. Raynor breathed deeply, letting the air out through her nose as she clicked on the mechanical pen. The pointer latched on the surface of the lined papers as she started to write down her observation.

Bucky who was sitting on the opposite side only scoffed in respond to her petty attempt of threat, "Oh, come on. Really?" He taunted, "You’re gonna do the notebook thing?"

Rolling his eyes in annoyance as he commented his thoughts outspokenly, "Why? It’s passive aggressive."

"You don’t talk. I write." The therapist replied with a short comeback.

Bucky glared intensely at her before letting out a sigh, "Okay. Okay."

His flesh fingers started to fiddle with his metal ones, a habit which he noticed he recently picked up after getting used to the high-tech vibranium arm.

"It wasn't a nightmare. It's just..." Bucky didn't know how to put it in words other than, "...a good dream."

It was in the peak of witching hours, when Y/N stood in the middle of the tiny kitchen section of her lover's humble apartment. The quiet of the night sometimes interrupted by the sound of the droplets trickling from the faucet.

There was a luminating light of the full moon that leaks through the open window, granting enough of a vision to see the layout of the kitchen. The stillness of the air made Y/N wonder if this is what she would need to go through soon.

Just an empty life without the presence of her lover.

And there she goes again, wondering in the seemingly endless darkness, thinking of the worst things that could possibly happen.

She had been staring unblinkingly at the counter top for who knows how long since she was woken up from her slumber.

Y/N couldn't go back sleep even if she wanted to. Not when tomorrow is the day that she dreaded the most. The day Bucky was going on his first call, to be sent away to England first thing morning.

"Missed you in bed, y'know?" The huskiness of Bucky's voice broke her from the gloomy thoughts.

Y/N turned around to first see the bare shape of her lover's body, lean and slightly muscular, then trailed up to his sleepy grin, barely opened eyes and the mess of his bed hair sticking out all over the place.

She had to admit, partially, it was her fault for constantly pulling on them when he went down on her. But it was also important to note that it was entirely his fault for being so damn good at it.

Bucky's hum was hoarse when he walked towards her, "What are you doing up, doll?" While Y/N watched his naked figure moved closer.

Bucky Barnes is a beautiful man.

She knew that even before they started dating but it is a wonder that his beauty still to manage to catch her off guard sometimes.

The moment he engulfed her into his arms, she whispered onto his skin, "Can't sleep." She kept it short and ambiguous but that only became the biggest giveaway to Bucky.

Bucky effortlessly lifted her up on the counter as he settled comfortably in between her legs. His hands trailed along the side of her thighs, casually lifting up the thin material of her night gown before going under it to gently fondle with the flesh of her hips.

He leaned upwards, placing the softest kiss on her lips as he murmured, "Everything's going to be alright, y/n." He kissed her again for a good measure, "I'll be home to you before you know it."

Y/N wrapped arms around his neck, pulling him closer until their forehead touches each other's, "You must write me, always." She spoke quietly; as if it was a secret she wanted to keep from the world.

"You must tell me everything, James. Don't hide anything from me; every blood, sweat and tears. I want to know all of it." Her eyes pleaded desperately, "You must be safe." Their lips hovered over each others; so close, barely even touching, "And come home."

The blue of his eyes were glazed with so much love and adoration as he whispered, "I promise, doll. I'm not going to die before I meet you at the end of the isle."

Somehow, Bucky always knew what to say to make her crack a smile, "I love you, James. Too much for my own good." She pulled him as she kissed his soft lips, "I love you too, y/n. More than anything." He grabbed her by the head, latching his mouth on hers as if it was their last kiss.

Before she knew it, Bucky swiftly pulled her off from the counter and threw her over his shoulder, causing her to yelp in surprise. "Oh my god, Bucky! Put me down right now!" The brunette simply laugh as she shriek his name, "James!"

"James!" Dr. Raynor managed to pull Bucky out of his thoughts. "You're clearly out of it today." She remarked before continuing, "And so, this woman in your dreams... Is she someone you knew back in the 40's?"

Bucky replied, "Most probably." He hesitated as he thought thoroughly, "Or it could just be a made up character that only exists in my dreams."

"Does she perhaps, have a name?" Dr. Raynor asked, in which he simply answered, "She does."

There was brief silence of unbroken eye-contact between them, before Bucky realized that the therapist was silently enquiring her name.

Bucky straightened his position in his seat as blatantly stated, "I'm not telling you her name." That was where he drew the line. Therapist or not; she didn't need to know his lover's identity.

Dr. Raynor hanged her hands up as a sign of defeat, "Okay, okay. That's fair." That was when the timer on her phone went off, "Oh, time's up." She reached for her phone and slide across the screen.

She quickly stood on her feet as soon as Bucky did on his own, "That would be all for this session. Thank you for coming in today, Mr. Barnes."

He had to let out a sarcastic chuckle when he said, "It's not that I want to anyway. It's mandatory." He walked towards the door but before he could turn the knob, Dr. Raynor spoke.

"Outside of this 'mandatory' session, I'd say my advice to you as a friend, is to maybe find her. Or her family." She suggested, "And if you're lucky..." She briefly paused, "...maybe she's out there, somewhere."

Bucky remained static for a moment before he spoke, "Thanks, Doc." He didn't look back to face her, instead he simply walked out the room; unfortunately feeling much more burdened than he did entering it.

Dr. Raynor's advice soon turned out to be a constant dilemma to him more than he anticipated.

Virginia, 1991 – The man she once loved

Y/N panicked. She didn't think the appearance of that metal-armed man will trigger a deep-rooted memories she was desperately trying to forget; spiralling her back into old chapters of her previous life.

It was the year of 1991 and Y/N was in her sixth life. She was a black widow that went rogue after managed on escaping the Red Room program about a few years prior. She was drunk on hatred and vengeance that she almost recklessly killed half of the people in her facility on the day she escaped.

It's not to say that she came out uncut, it was quite the opposite really. Y/N had left the grounds with multiple holes on her body and a deep wound on her beautiful face; a cut from the inner edge of her right brow all the way across her left cheek.

And that left her with a very prominent and unforgettable scar. Though she couldn't care less about it, especially when she knew Hydra was out there still thriving under another intellegence organization like some kind of parasite.

After she heard the news that Howard Stark has successfully replicate the super soldier serum, she is now somewhere in Virginia, trying to hijack the products before it falls in the hands of the Pentagon or worst, Hydra.

Unfortunately for her, the worst thing that could happen, happened.

Someone from Hydra managed to get their hands on them before she could, leaving the corpses of Howard Stark and his wife in the broken down car, posing it as a road accident.

The bodies was still warm and she knew the culprit won't be far from the crime scene, so she rode on forward until managed to catch up with him. She never intended to confront him head on. She was planning to follow him to the meeting point where they will transfer the products to another Hydra agent, like they always do.

But he certainly didn't care about her plan when he changed his route to a different location. She didn't even realized that her incognito was useless when he nearly shot her in the head.

Now, with her cover blown, it was just him and her alone at the gate of an abandoned building. "Well, shit." Y/N cursed.

She could feel the heavy tension from the atmosphere. Silence from the wordless man were screaming louder than her pumping heartbeat.

There were only two of those run-down street lamp that helped to brigthen up the battlefield. But even in the dying light, Y/N could see the silver of left his arms, a red star on the upper side, black mask covering lower half of his face and a messy black shadow all over his eyes.

She knew who he was; though most of the intelligence community doesn't believe he exists. The ones that do call him the Winter Soldier. Hydra's most prized asset from the Winter Soldier program that Y/N had been trying to track for months.

Maybe it was a careless greed, or maybe she was just tired of living. But, Y/N dared herself to fight the against super soldier. It was intense but completely one-sided as the soldier managed to counter most her punches and kicks.

There were times that she felt like he was simply playing around with her; and that riled Y/N to the core. If it wasn't enough for God to toy with her life, now this weapon of Hydra is joining the fun.

She was sick of it; and it got her to be impatient. That, however, was a mistake that she shouldn't have done especially during a hand-to-hand combat with the Winter Soldier himself.

Y/N ducked down from his swinging arm as she surged her own towards him but the man could see her moves from a mile away, so he dropped his knife to his other hand and managed to strike the blade right into where her pulsing heart resides.

All the times she had ripped her own life, it seemed that her soul was used to the pain that it took a few moments of time to register the sharpness of the blade, glinding through her heart.

"Ah, this is truly exhausting." She thought to herself.

She wanted it to end.

She wanted to rest. For good.

In her hazy vision, she looked up at the soldier and noticed that he had been staring blankly into her eyes; like a curious predator watching his dying prey.

She knew it was wrong, but looking closer at the shade of blue in his dead and frozen eyes, she couldn't help to find the resemblance in the man she once loved.

It was cruel to find the semblance of her lover in the eyes of her killer, but that tends to happen when one's soul longed for someone so much that everything and anything around became the reminder of them.

Streams of tears trickled down into her ears as her blood seeped through her clothes, staining the fabric and the ground under her.

Instead of hearing the sound of the soldier's footstep walking away, all she could hear was the vivid memories of Bucky's laughter, "I miss you, James."

She truly did.

She missed him so much that she wished that she can finally die this time around, praying for a chance to meet him once more.

But alas, that's not gonna happen anytime soon. Not when the God hates her now.

"I miss you so much." her voice shivered as she whispered her last breath.

Madripoor, 2024 – Long-lost lover

Easy to say, Y/N was furious that she let the memories of her past, the appearance of the winter soldier, distract her focus for her mission. She was furious that she didn't manage to get into Wilfred's lab before someone else did.

Don't get her wrong, though.

She was somewhat grateful when she found him dead, because that's means there's one less parasite that could potentially revive Hydra from the recreation of super soldier serum. But, she was pissed that she wasn't able to dig for more information about his research and the people he was affiliated with.

She knew he was recruited by the CIA before the blip but seeing that his lab is now basically a cargo, located in Madripoor, she doubt that he has anything to do with CIA now.

He's probably working with someone else in the underground scene.

Y/N sat leg-crossed on stacks of cargo, as she watched the scene from afar. The bounty hunters were ruthlessly attacking a group of criminals that attacked Shelby last night; they were completely out-numbered.

She heard from the bar that it was considerably a high pay for the rewards especially when the targets were consists of the runaway prisoner, Zemo, Hydra's weapon, the Winter Soldier and the member of Avenger, the Falcon.

It was indeed an odd group of people but she couldn't care less about how that came to be. What caught her attention was the fact that the Falcon, who is a member of the Avenger, was affiliated with the Winter Soldier, who is an asset of Hydra.

And the fact that they were digging their feet in the underground world for the super soldier serum, making the trio combination even more concerning.

She knew it was the best bet to approach the Falcon for information rather than going for the other two, so when the group split up during their fight, she quietly followed the Falcon.

He was a bit clumsy when fighting alone; or maybe it was because the hunters kept streaming in non-stop. Nonetheless, one by one, eventually the Falcon managed to take them down.

Y/N lurked at the corner, quietly observing his fighting style as he struggled with the few that was left.

"He's going to run out of ammo." She thought to herself.

And two shots later, he did.

There were two hunters left and he had no choice but to use his fists. Looking at him now, maybe he suited the hand-to-hand combat style more than gun combat. Y/N noticed his moves are more seamless than when he fight with a gun a few seconds ago.

The Falcon breathed heavily as the last hunter was tackled down. She decided that it had to be now or never, at least before the winter soldier came to the scene to regroup. When she stepped out of her camouflage, the Falcon only noticed her presence that he missed the red dot on his chest.

But, Y/N saw it, "Fuck! He can't die. Not now." She couldn't let him go without getting information she needed from him.

In mere seconds, she jumped towards him and managed to pulled him away from the target. However, it was not far enough, that was when the bullet grazed on his side. Y/N quickly grabbed her throwing knife and land it right into the hunter's head.

The Falcon staggered backwards, meeting his back on the side of a cargo as he groaned in pain. His eyes scanned the appearance of his potential saviour; hooded figure, mask-covered face, assassin-like dressed – he realized that she matched the description of what Sharon had warned him before.

"So before we move, this might be unrelated, but I gotta warn you guys about someone." Sharon spoke as she equipped herself.

The three men looked over her as they gave their undivided attention, "While last night was hectic with the return of the Winter Soldier." She briefly looked over at Bucky, "But, there was also another person that made an appearance."

"She's known as the Deathstalker." She paused. "What I can say about her is she's a basically mystery; appeared out of thin air a few months into the blip." Sharon explained, earning a couple of nods from Sam and the signature frown from Bucky.

However, Zemo simply smiled and commented, "Ah, the pretty little Deathstalker." The mannerism of his speech was thick with Sokovian accent.

"You know her?" Sharon quirked.

Zemo smiled again, this time a little bit too smug, "We might have once crossed our path." He kept it ambiguous.

"When? You were in the prison years before the blip." Sam frowned as he questioned.

Sipping on the glass of liquor, Zemo answered, "She may or may not have 'visited' me to get some information about Hydra."

The mention of Hydra caught Bucky's attention but he kept it well hidden under his stoic expression. Noticing Sam's confusion with Zemo's insinuating answer, Bucky simply laid it out for him, "It means, she broke into the prison, Sam." he simply sighed.

Sam jutted his lips as he shrugged, "Guess you're not the only one who's insane here, Buck." He teased as he poked fun of Bucky's decision of 'breaking into the prison' to let Zemo out.

"You said, 'pretty little Deathstalker'. So you've seen her face?" Sharon asked curiously as she crossed her arms to her chest. No one had seen the assassin's face before, so she could help but to ask.

Zemo shook his head, "No. But that signature mask of hers cannot hide the beauty within." He smirked as he recalled the look in the Deathstalker's eyes; she had that obsession for vengeance. As he did when he broke the Avengers apart .

"You see, I've always had the eyes for beautiful things." He explained as if it was a natural thing to say.

Sharon knew shouldn't let herself expect too much from Zemo, especially when he had that attitude. She simply rolled her eyes and walked towards the seat next to Sam.

Bucky leaned his back into the sofa, spreading his legs apart as he asked, "Is she gonna be a problem?" An assassin that's been breaking into prison to ask Zemo about Hydra. That doesn't seem like a casual information to overlook.

Sharon shrugged as she continued, "Well, depends on your move. But, I'd advice you to never get on her bad side. People speculated that she's a rogue assassin turned bounty hunter but the thing is... she has never taken any job."

Bounty hunters get their money from jobs that's advertised all over the city. So, the Deathstalker couldn't be called a Bounty Hunter when she never take jobs before. If it were up to Sharon, the Deathstalker was much suited under the same category as Ronin, the masked vigilante who tracks down and slaughters criminals during the blip.

Sharon explained that, "She just stalks around the underground scene, and leave bodies behind for people to find."

Zemo interjected, "Hence, her name." Gaining a glare from Sharon, that translates to "Do you want to tell the story or what?"

"Right." Sam nodded as he takes in the information.

After earning a silent apology from Zemo, Sharon continued, "No one knows who she works for or what her aim is but there's rumours she's been hunting down Hydra, or anyone and anything affiliated to it."

Again, the Deathstalker's obsession with Hydra had caught Bucky's attention. A rogue assassin seemingly made it her mission to hunt down Hydra?

Bucky doesn't know what to make of that. So, he kept his questions to himself. Eitherway, if she gets in their way, he'd still need to fight her.

"Why are you telling us this again?" Sam asked as he didn't find the connection between their mission and the Deathstalker.

Sharon replied, "It's just worth to note that she might be hunting for Wilfred Nagel too." She paused as her gaze fell into Bucky's, "...since the super soldier serum had been Hydra's obsession for centuries."

Now that the Deathstalker technically saved Sam's life.

So, does that mean that she was not an enemy?

Sam was struggling between containing his pain and coming up with a plausible conclusion but Y/N's action quickly give him the answer he needed.

Within seconds, she had Sam pinned against the wall as the edge of her sharp blade dug into the skin of his neck, "What is an Avenger doing with the Asset?" Her voice sounded distorted through the voice-changing mask.

"Lady, I don't know what you're talking about!" He grunted in protest.

Sam was not used to Bucky being labeled as an "asset". Sure, he knew the name of Winter Soldier or Soldat. But, Bucky was never addressed as the Asset, at least not by the people around him.

Y/N grabbed him by the collar and harshly slammed him against the metal of the cargo behind him, causing him to curse as the pain struck on the side of his abdomen.

"Are you planning to revive Hydra?" Her menacing eyes searched into his, demanding for a truthful answer.

What kind of bullshit was she talking about?

Reviving Hydra?

Why the hell would he do that?

However, before Sam could retort to her accusation, Y/N was pulled back by an arm, wrapped around her neck from behind. She knew it was the Winter Soldier from the cold metal burning into her skin. The soldier's other hand grabbed onto her wielded hand, forcefully bending her wrist until the knife fell from her grasp.

He easily lifted her up in the air as he backed away, tightening the lock of his left arm around her neck while twisting her right hand to her back with his flesh hand. The smaller let out a robotic groan through her mask as she struggled in his chokehold.

While the two wrestled in between holding one down and freeing oneself, Sharon quickly ran to Sam's side, "Are you alright?" she prompted as she examined his wounds. The male simply nodded his head, "Yeah, it's just a graze." He explained before asking, "Is that the Deathstalker chick that you've been talking about?"

Sharon followed his gaze, and eyed the woman who was still struggling in Bucky's hold before she managed to land a particularly sharp strike right into Bucky's stomach, "Yeap, that would be her." Sharon answered.

Usually a few strikes by an elbow of a woman doesn't really hurt the super soldier but unfortunately for him, the elbows of the suit Y/N was wearing were armored with thin yet effective pad made of vibranium. Due to its ability is to absorb and dissipate shocks, it managed to push him back and simultaneously loosen his hold on her.

When his guard was down, Y/N took the opportunity to slightly twist her foot back around his and grab onto his left arm. She pushed her bottom into his hips as she bend over, pulling onto his arm as she flipped him forward.

Y/N stepped backwards, standing on guard as the soldier rolled over on the ground before finding a position to stop the inertia; one knee of the ground while the other leg paused at his foot with his back facing her.

Her hands reached to her back and pulled two knives from the holster on the belt, gripping them by the handle while the blades facing downwards. She bended her knees into stance, much like a panther ready to pounce.

But when the soldier stood on his feet and turned around, suddenly her defensive stance flatter and her breath were cut short. The battled-tensed surroundings did not matter when all she could see was the soldier's face.

He looked a bit aged from the last time she saw him but a lot younger considering it was decades ago.

How could she forget those ocean blue of his eyes beneath the deep frown he was wearing?

Or the softness of his pursed lips ghosting over her own?

Even if the smooth skin of his forehead were now decorated with thin lines of wrinkles, and the exhaustion in the discoloration under his eyes had overshadowed the playful glint he used to have; they could never fool her to believe that the man standing in front of her right now was not her long-lost lover.

"James?" Her voice was gentle but the voice changer behind her mask didn't quite conveyed her tone.

Suddenly, the high walls of her defenses begin to crumble into mere pieces of fragments like crushed dried leaves on autumn grounds. Time suspended, almost too still, as if it was trying to give her the luxury to cherish the revelation; to revel in the moment of joy and relief.

And there wasn't any thoughts formulated in the fog of her mind besides the need to melt in his arm. Somehow the dark side of her mind managed to trick her into believing that if she didn't touch him now, then she would perish in despair.

Her feet inches forward closer and closer, and her knives were long forgone, leaving clancking sounds on the surface of the ground.

When Bucky heard his name uttered by the woman, somehow it didn't sound foreign to him. It was as if he'd heard it before.

And when he saw the wet glaze in her bright eyes as she hesitantly walk towards him, he knew then that she was not approaching with an intent to kill him; he'd dare to say it was quite the opposite.

There were so much emotions in her gaze; grief, yearning, sorrow, need, joy – that he even his ex-assassin's skill couldn't possibly decipher them all. And that had impeccably managed froze every nerves in his body until he can only stood there, paralyzed on his spot.

With each hesitant step, more tears started to swell in her eyes. Step by step she took, hoping he wasn't another fragments of hallucination that she made up to ease her needs, until she finally stood close enough to him to realize he was real.

Bucky knew he should move. Reprimand her before she could land any sneak attack that he might not expect; but he couldn't. Not when she gaze up at him with that look in her eyes.

He unexpectedly drowned himself in those waves of emotions in her gaze, not realizing her actions until her shivering hands cupped his face.

Her fingers were cold as if they were soaked in ice.

Her voice slightly cracked when she spoke, "Is that really you, James?" Even if she was looking directly into his eyes, somehow the question sounded like it directed towards herself rather than to Bucky.

It's real.

He's real.

Her eyes casted down to where her skin met his warmth. There was a slight tingle when her thumbs rubbed against the stubble of his jaw, prickling her skin perfectly just as she remembered.

"It's you. James. It's really you." She mumbled under her breath, convincing herself over and over as if her brain refused to acknowledge it while her heart does otherwise.

Bucky, on the other hand, didn't know what to do or what to say. But, he hadn't heard anyone called him by that name so affectionately since Y/N. The lover he left behind during WWII, who's grave he had been visiting every Tuesday morning ever since that particular session with Dr. Raynor.

However, something in his guts were screaming at him to reach out to this woman's plea as she cried in his presence, lost in her own world as she muttered his name again and again.

But, why?

Why does he feel the need to cradle her body in his arms, and whisper the sweetest things to calm her down?

Why?

Bucky gulped as his eyes loomed over hers, "Who are you?"

<< Part I || Part III >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Feel free to leave feedbacks! I'd love to hear your thoughts! Until then, see you in the next part 🤍

#winterarmyyfics #promise me au #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x you #40s!bucky #tfatws!bucky #winter soldier!bucky #1940s!bucky

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lurkingshan · 10 months ago

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Thank you for leaving these tags @pharawee! Without getting into any speculation about how Dead Friend Forever will actually end, I do want to address your question and talk about why most of us want to see severe consequences for these boys. The short answer: it's about genre expectations and the psychological catharsis of a good revenge narrative.

To get down to the really basic point: people who love revenge thrillers love them because they are a fantasy construct in which good people survive and bad people get what they deserve. In a world where bad things happen and we rarely have any control, a good revenge story can be exhilarating, giving you the feeling that justice prevailed, villains received appropriate comeuppance for their wrongs, and the protagonist seized control back and experienced much needed catharsis for their suffering. Real life is very much not like this, which is why it's such an appealing genre of fiction.

So how do we calibrate what "appropriate comeuppance" means? This is where genre expectations become really important, because the genre the revenge narrative plays out in sets the terms for where that bar sits. In The Glory, a recent world class revenge drama, we were in the psychological thriller genre, so revenge came in the form of Dong Eun playing mind games with her bullies until they destroyed their own lives. No murder necessary. Dead Friend Forever, however, is in the horror genre, and specifically began its story by planting itself in the slasher subgenre, giving us a masked killer and setting up expectations that these boys are being hunted. When you watch a slasher, you come in with the mindset that most of the characters are going to die and begin rooting for it and looking for reasons why they "deserve" it. And typically, in a slasher, it takes very little for a character to "deserve" a death--you often see people die for the tiniest infractions, like making a rude comment, telling a bad joke, or having sex. But DFF went much farther than that and gave us a multi episode flashback in which we got a detailed accounting of every wrong this group of boys committed against Non, increasing the audience's bloodlust and conviction that these boys needed to pay.

So why do so many of us want the bullies to die? Because the genre demands it, and the story set the audience up to expect it from the outset. I have seen some discussion of the way the show is blending different horror subgenres and not sticking strictly to typical slasher conventions, and that's true, and expected. Slashers are usually two hours max, and this show needed to fill 10+ hours of content, so it's doing a really interesting blend of slasher, mystery, psychological thriller, and other horror subgenres. But the bones of the story still hold, and despite the storytelling choice to give the villains some nuance and fleshed out motivations for their behavior, they are still villains who destroyed Non's life. If you're feeling overly sympathetic to any of these boys at present, I encourage you to go back and remind yourself how they behaved in the early episodes of this story, which took place after the events of the flashbacks. These are not genuinely remorseful kids who made minor mistakes and then got their acts together and became upstanding citizens; they just want to move on and avoid blame and accountability for what they did, while Non's entire family was irrevocably destroyed by their actions.

If this story ends without Por, Tee, Top, Fluke, Jin, and Phee suffering genre appropriate consequences for their choices that harmed and betrayed Non, it will be a letdown and many will feel unsatisfied. In real life, we may believe that forgiveness is the right path, and we know that Buddhism teaches unconditional forgiveness. But this is not real life. This is a fantasy genre that is specifically meant to provide an escape from the constraints of real life morality and obligations. No one wants to show up to a fantasy party only to receive a moral scolding. The most disappointing thing a revenge narrative can do is wimp out on delivering the actual revenge.

#hope this helps!#i think folks coming to this show mostly from a bl lens and not grounded in horror genre might have a harder time with this #dead friend forever #dff the series #shan shouts into the void #thai bl

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shiorimakibawrites · 5 months ago

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Cat Man Do: Part 2 (Daredevil Fan Fic)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem! Reader Seconding Pairings: Foggy Nelson x Marci Stahl, implied Karen Page x Frank Castle Word Count: 11,000 Summary: It is a day of discovery for you. Warning(s): Swearing, sexual fantasies, referenced masturbation, kissing, dirty talk, referenced marking/hickies, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected P in V sex, referenced oral sex (male receiving), referenced animal abuse (not graphic) Series Masterlist Matt Murdock/Daredevil Masterlist General Masterlist Tag List: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @indestructeible, @what-i-call-men, @reblog-reblog666, @flynnethenerd, @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment, @yarrystyleeza, @bellaxgiornata, @reluctanthalfwayofoptimism, @bluerobin35 Also posted on AO3

Cat Man Do

Part 2 of 2

“And that’s the last of it,” you said to yourself as you put the last of the dishes into the drying rack. While you dried off your hands, you did a quick survey of your handiwork. The apartment was now back to its normal state of relative tidiness. The only remaining mess was the nest of blankets that Trouble had burrowed himself into and presumably napping it.

It had been tempting to peek. Very tempting. But you knew yourself. If you did that, you wouldn’t be able to resist petting him. Then you would probably give into the urge to see if he liked any of the cat toys you still had . . . then boom, the housework would be completely forgotten.

It wasn’t that you hated housework. It was just boring. Which made any number of procrastinating distractions rather appealing. Listening to music or podcast on your phone usually helped. Singing along with your favorite songs or learned something interesting made it feel like the dull but necessary work wasn’t taking so long. Thought you had to avoid certain ones while doing housework because sometimes they got you arguing with the people in the magic box instead of doing what you were supposed to. Like ironing your work clothes . . .

Other days, your brain decided to turn whatever was coming out of your phone into white noise and simply daydreamed. Today was one of those days. Fortunate for getting your work done, those daydreams stayed innocent. Imaging Matt having his way with you on your kitchen table, for example, would have been rather distracting. Case in point, even just the thought of that fantasy was making you squirm.

Keeping them sweet didn’t prevent Matt from taking the staring role. Far from it. Which was embarrassing for all different reasons. It was one thing to have sexual fantasies about an attractive man. Picturing that same man saying three little words with that deeply fond smile on his face had different implications.

Implications that made you feel stupid. You knew falling in love with your boss was a bad idea. The king of bad ideas. Mousy secretary falls in love with her incredibly attractive boss is the premise for a romance novel, not a recipe for true love forever. You were going to get your heart broken. Probably not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But someday.

You weren’t looking forward to it. Watching women hit on him already felt like a knife to your heart. Watching while he meet someone else and fall in love with them was going to be agony. Assuming you stayed around to watch. Which you likely wouldn’t do. You weren’t that much of masochist.

The worst part was that you wanted Matt to find his special someone. The person who would make him laugh and help him find joy. Someone who would comfort him when he was sad, take care of him when he was sick. For him to know that someone loved him, that they wanted to stay forever . . . you wanted that for him.

Maybe it was selfish but you just wished that special someone was you.

You knew it was unlikely. Matt had never stated an interest in you beyond friendship. Yes, he flirted. But Matt flirted with everyone. And yes, you had gone on all those outings with him. But those were friend outings, not dates. And yes, on those occasions when Matt asked him to guide him, it seemed like he was reluctant to let go of your arm afterward. Or how he kept holding your hands after they had gotten warmed up after forgetting your gloves last week, only dropping them when the office phone rang . . .

But he never said anything. Sometimes it seem liked he might. Moments where he said he had something to tell you, something that he wanted to ask, that seem like maybe . . . then nothing. Either the universe intervene – phone calls, fire alarm, sudden loud argument between two food truck drivers – or it wouldn’t be exactly what you were hoping for. Like asking if you would be his plus-one at some fancy party being thrown by Columbia Law alum next weekend. That wasn’t a date. It was just practical since he and Foggy had only gotten their invitations to said party this week . . . It was a very deliberate snub considering Marci had received hers month ago . . .

Granted, you hadn’t said anything to him either. In part because you wanted to avoid ruining what you already had. You genuinely liked being Matt’s friend. You valued that relationship and didn’t want to lose it. Or make things incredibly awkward. But big part of it was simply that you weren’t ready to hear ‘I’m flattered but . . .’

You’d probably never be ready. Because no matter how kindly someone tries to let you down, rejection always stung . . .

“Enough moping,” you told yourself sternly. You had a mystery to explore.

But first you were going to check on Trouble. He had been rather quiet. Too quiet. He might simply be asleep but your experience said that sometimes the too quiet cat was a cat getting into mischief. You walked over to the blanket cocoon and peeled back the layers until you found the lithe, brown form. A pair of yellow-green eyes blinked sleepily at you. You couldn’t resist. There were few things cuter than a drowsy cat. You reached over and started lightly scratching behind the ears. Trouble purred and bumped his head more firmly into your hands.

“Hey there, sleepy kitty,” you said. “Enjoy your nap?”

He made one of those trilling noises which only made your smile grow. And encouraged you to keep petting him. Which wasn’t a hardship.

“Your coat is so soft, Trouble,” you said. “Feels like velvet.”

Like your new dress, the one you had let Marci and Karen talked you into buying for the fancy party. You hadn’t intended to buy anything when you accompanied them to the stops. You had fully intended to just wear one of the dresses you already owned. But then you saw it.

A pretty black dress made of velvet that looked like it was your size. Curious, you had checked. It was. Moreover, it was marked off enough to within your limited budget. Which made it very tempting. A temptation that Marci enthusiastically enabled. Come on, at least see how it fits . . .

It fit perfectly, hugging your curves just right. Offered tantalizing glimpses of skin without showing off more than you were comfortable with. You had felt beautiful wearing it. Which meant Marci and Karen didn’t have to push very hard to convince you to buy it. Karen sweetened the deal by reminding you that Matt loved velvet. And that maybe feeling so pretty would give you the confidence boost you needed to tell him how you felt.

Something that both Karen and Marci seemed very certain would be received well. You weren’t nearly so sure but you brought the dress.

In the name of making you feel as pretty and confident as possible, Karen and Marci decided you also needed new shoes and underwear. When you objected that you couldn’t afford to do that, Marci countered that she would pay. Which was why you were now the proud owner of a pair of heels that cost a frankly ridiculous amount of money. Because when Marci decided to treat someone, she didn’t believe in going cheap.

The underwear set had been more reasonably priced but still seemed like a lot for a bra and panties. Even if they were made of high quality silk and lace. But they had looked good on you too and Karen had asked you to imagine if everything went well and the night ended with your dress on Matt’s bedroom floor . . .

You didn’t know what had flustered you more. Your own imagination or that evil, knowing grin on Karen’s face or Marci supplying lewd details of Matt’s sexual prowess. Not from her own experience but she knew people who had slept with him. People whose stories she trusted to be accurate.

Karen insisted that the underwear had to be dark red. Saying with a mysterious smile that Matt would find it hot. Which just confused you. For obvious reasons, purely visual elements like color didn’t hold any appeal for Matt . . .

“Why?” you mused out loud. But since Karen wasn’t here to pester, your only answer was a questioning meow from Trouble. Which probably had more to do with you getting so lost in your head that you had stopped petting him than anything else.

“Sorry, Trouble,” you said, resuming the pets. “Got distracted. Trying to figure out why Karen thinks Matt would find me wearing red silk underwear sexy.”

Trouble made the strangest sound you had ever heard from a cat. Like he couldn’t decide which cat noise to make and kept switching tracks part-way through each one. If he had been human, you would have said he was sputtering.

It was such a funny reaction that you couldn’t help giggling.

Matt’s current form prevented him from blushing. Which he supposed he should be thankful for. His sputtering already had you giggling. He could only imagine your reaction to seeing his cheeks go what he had been told was a lovely shade of dusty pink.

What was Karen up to? Telling you something like that?!

The fact that it was true was immaterial. Now he would have fantasies about running his hands over your curves, feeling your petal soft skin encased in silk . . . and the idea of you wearing Daredevil red immensely pleased that possessive streak that ran deep inside him . . .

But he didn’t need help coming up with impure thoughts about you. He already spent far too much time touching himself while imaging you spread out on his bed, exploring every inch with his hands and mouth, the sounds of your pleasure filling his ears . . . Fantasies that were going to be a lot more vivid now that he knew exactly what those noises sounded like and just how sweet your arousal tasted . . . even if tasting it from the air was a poor substitute for tasting it directly from the source . . .

Matt shook himself. He shouldn’t be thinking about that.

You turned your attention toward your pack and the mystery inside it. You moved the pack over to the couch and started pulling out the suit.

The red color was brighter than you expected, dark scarlet instead of the maroon it had looked under the dim light of your flashlight. The webbing between panels wasn’t black either. It was a deep, deep red that almost black. Like those really good cherries that you loved but could never remember what they were called. It was was just as heavy as you remembered, with the heft that reminded you of an old friend’s bulletproof vest. But more flexible . . . actually, looking at all of the webbing interwoven into it, you’d guess a lot more.

“It seems Daredevil is a bendy vigilante,” you mused outloud. “Probably not as bendy as Spider-Man but that guy is made out of silly-putty. Or at least his spine is.”

The suit was a little scuffed but otherwise looked fine. No holes, rips, or tears that you could find. No visible blood . . . you sniffed. You couldn’t smell any blood either. Just sweat. Something clean that you recognized as saddle soap. The fainter odor of plain soap along with something very familiar.

“Huh,” you said, eyeing the suit. “Daredevil and Matt wear the same cologne. Small world.”

Next, you checked the pouches on the belt. There weren’t that many. They contained a prepaid cell phone that you set aside to look at more closely later, zip ties, fold-up cash, and business cards. Curious, you shuffled through the cards. Nelson & Murdock, Alias Investigations, Chikara Dojo, FEAST, Helping Hands . . . . Each business or charity was separated by paper clips or rubber bands.

“Curious,” you murmured, wondering why . . . maybe he just didn’t want to spend time shuffling through them looking for a particular one? Or didn’t think he would always have time to do that? Maybe he had folded up the cash for the same reason. As long as he remembered how each card was bundled or bill folded, he could get out the right one without looking at them.

You turned your attention to the phone but was immediately stymied. The phone refused to turn on. It didn’t look broken. Which probably meant that it needed to be charged. Guess you weren’t the only one who forgot to put their phone on the charger. Or maybe Daredevil used a phone while fighting crime a lot more than anyone would expect. You grumbled as you got off the couch. You weren’t sure if your charger would work with this phone. Thankfully it did but the batteries were practically dead. Investigating the phone would have to wait.

In the meantime, you inspected the helmet. It was the same color as the suit but not the same materials, something more rigid. But it seemed to be in good shape. You couldn’t see or feel any cracks. You traced the edge of the characteristic horns and mask. You were unable to resist to urge to put the helmet on your own head. It probably looked ridiculous. There was nothing superhero about your oversized tee shirt featuring a gray cat calling itself ‘purr-fect’ and sweat pants. But you were curious. What did the world look like to the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen?

The answer was very red. You had expected a reddish tint from the color of the lenses. But it was more intense than you expected. It was also less . . . clear than you would have thought. The lenses weren’t opaque – you could see through them. But tinted dark like a pair of sunglasses.

“Odd,” you said, wondering why Daredevil had what was effectively sunglasses built into his helmet. It seemed peculiar. Especially for a vigilante that operated almost exclusively at night. And had a known habit of cutting lights to places before going in. The consensus in the hero forums was that Daredevil must be able to see in the dark. But, you frowned, even the best night vision still needed some light . . . even nocturnal animals couldn’t see in total darkness . . .

“If he has superhuman night vision,” you thought outloud, pulling off the helmet. “Maybe his eyes are really light sensitive?”

Trouble meowed loudly. It sounded almost like a no.

“Vetoing that theory, Trouble?” You asked, glancing over at him. He had crawled out of the blanket cocoon and was doing the big stretch. Which, by the rules of cat companions everywhere, you had to comment on. “Ohhh, big stretch!”

He meowed again. You laughed. It was almost like he was answering you.

You smiled and shook your head. Despite Trouble’s rejection, the theory was plausible. Someone whose eyes worked very well at low light could very well be someone that found bright light painful. And while he worked at night, New York City wasn’t all that dark after sundown. Nowhere near as dark as it was out in the forest.

Granted, Hell’s Kitchen was darker at night than most of the city. Streets lights and other sources of lighting that had gotten damaged in the Incident still hadn’t been repaired or replaced. Somehow there was never enough money in the budget. At least not for something like street lights. Some of the landlords were similarly disinclined. Others had died during the aforementioned alien invasion and similar attacks on the city. And many of those estates were a byzantine nightmare of disputed wills, shell companies, and other assorted legal headaches.

You knew this because Nelson & Murdock was one of the many laws firms attempting untangle this particular Gordian knot. The progress had been slow and uneven. Matt and Foggy had muttered many unkind words about property law, estate law, the lawyers involved in creating this mess, and especially the lawyers trying to keep the knot intact because the mess benefited their clients . . . which yes, was their job. But they didn’t have be so smug about it . . .

The color of the lenses was another question mark. Why red? Then you remembered something you had read . . . red lenses or red lights helped people kept their eyes dark adapted or helped them adjust to low-light conditions quicker. Of course that little nugget had been discovered during a romp through Wikipedia Wonderland. So massive grain of salt . . .

Of course, it could simply be aesthetics. It fit with the Devil theme. You imagined that seeing the sudden glint of those red lenses from out of the shadows would be quite intimidating.

“Or maybe he just likes red,” you muttered to yourself, putting the helmet down on the coffee table.

You drummed your fingers against your thigh, staring at the suit . . . why? Why would Daredevil abandon his suit and (possibly) walk into the night wearing (possibly) only whatever was under the suit?

“Which couldn’t be much,” you mused, your face flushing at the thought. Most images of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen were either low-quality, out-of-focus, or too shadowy to make out much. But from what you could tell, the suit was close-fitting. No much room for anything but him in there. Or nothing at all. Which was an idea that made your flush worse.

Matt might have been the leading man in your fantasies but he wasn’t the only one to appear. You had entertained thoughts about Daredevil. Very dirty thoughts. Which was really saying something considering some of the ones involving Matt . . . but there was just something about the vigilante that could made you feel feral.

You had the feeling that those fantasies were about to get more vivid. Because now, you knew what the suit looked like up close. What it felt like under your hands. Granted what it felt like without Daredevil actually in it. Which was, if you were being perfectly honest, a little disappointing. You might be carrying the torch for Matt but that didn’t stop other men from being attractive. Or your mind from idly (and somewhat guiltily) wondering if Daredevil’s suit struggled to contain his muscles the same way Matt’s suits struggled to contain his . . .

Something touched your thigh. You jumped before realizing it was just Trouble putting one of his paws on your leg. Probably looking for attention. You reached down to start petting him, scratching him behind the ears. Which he seemed to enjoy, purring as he crawled onto your lap. You were easily tempted away from your mystery.

“You’re a total lap cat, aren’t you?” you asked. Your only answer was louder purring.

You were starting to feel almost sleepy, sitting here with a purring cat in your lap. Especially on a day like this, gray and unusually quiet for New York. Which made the notification chime from your phone inordinately loud. Checking it required disturbing Trouble. Which he made very clear that he didn’t like.

“I know, I know, you were comfortable,” you said, checking the notifications. Mostly text messages from friends and family making sure you were okay. You had just sent off a couple of replies when you caught something out of the corner of your eye.

Looking away from your phone, you peered at the suit. What . . . oh. There was something inside the crumpled suit, a bit of fabric peeking out. Curious, you sat down your phone and touched it. Silk. You gave it a gentle tug and the cloth came out.

Immediately, you felt your face flush again. It was underwear. Specifically a pair of men’s black boxers. Black silk boxers. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen wore black silk boxers. For reasons you couldn’t really explain, this made you giggle.

The universe was a peculiar place. One where a blind defense attorney and a vigilante had interesting things in common. They both liked silk. They wear the same cologne. And estimating from the suit, Daredevil and Matt were the same height and had a similar build.

And apparently knew a lot of the same people. Matt carried a lot of the same business cards, personally knew the owners. Though you were a little unclear on how he had met some of them. Jessica Jones, you could see. She lived and worked in Hell’s Kitchen and her zero-tolerance policy for assholes often got her trouble with the cops. But the others were less clear . . . It didn’t help that when you had asked, the story you had gotten had been rather vague.

It wasn’t the only story where Matt, Foggy, and Karen got evasive. Another sign that there were secrets in the office of Nelson & Murdock. And not the normal client-confidentiality type secrets . . .

Glancing back at the suit, you noticed something else. Something you couldn’t believe you had missed. It didn’t look like it had been stripped off. None of the zippers or other fasteners were undone. You frowned, looking closely at it again. How could he have gotten it off without undoing any of the fasteners?

All thoughts of Daredevil were driven out of your head when Trouble let out a pained yowl. You snapped your head up to see him fall off the couch, writhing and twisting like he was having a seizure. You rushed toward him but then something weird happened. Trouble began to grow and swell, becoming bigger and bigger . . . body twisting and jerking the entire time . . . until what was laying on your floor wasn’t a cat. It was a man.

A very familiar man. Matt Murdock lay there, his body still twitching and spasming. His chest heaved and his forehead was beaded with sweat.

You couldn’t believe your own eyes. Had that really just happened? You pinched yourself. It hurt. So not a dream. You reached out and touched Matt’s shoulder. It was solid and warm under your hand. The muscles still twitching from . . . whatever that was. But gradually the twitching stopped and the tension in Matt’s jaw eased.

“Sorry,” he said. His voice was strained. “Didn’t want you to find out this way.”

Find out what? That he turned into a cat? Or . . . you looked at the suit. Then it clicked. All of the pieces suddenly made sense. Matt was Daredevil. The suit didn’t look like it had been stripped off because it hadn’t. The person wearing it had merely gotten much, much smaller.

“You’re Daredevil?” you asked, just to be sure.

“Yes.”

“And you turn into a cat?” you asked. You hoped not. He was a very cute cat but that transformation had looked like hideously painful.

His lips twitched into something like a smile. “Not usually. This was the first time.”

“Okay,” you said. You took a deep breath. Than another. Your boss was Daredevil. He had been turned into a cat. You had taken him to your apartment. He might have observed you having a dirty dream about him. This was fine. You were fine. Everything was fine.

Another breath. “Expected development?”

“No. Magic spell. I think.”

“Magic spell?” you repeated. “Like actual magic? You know, nevermind. Of course, magic is real. Why the hell not? We were invaded by aliens. There is a Norse God living uptown. Why wouldn’t magic be real?!”

You were babbling. But you couldn’t help it. It didn’t help that Matt was really smiling now. With the dimple and everything. Which had always left you flustered. Especially when combined with that fond look. Even if it almost immediately faded to something sober and tentative.

“Let me sit up and I’ll explain everything.”

“Okay,” you said. But as he started to push himself into a sitting position, you noticed something. Something that left you even more flustered. Matt was naked. Completely naked. Not a single stitch on him. You could see his . . . everything. Feeling your cheeks burn, you jerked back and whirled around to face the wall.

“Sweetheart?”

You felt your heart beat faster at the pet name. He had never called you that before. At work, he was entirely professional. And when you were at Josie’s or an outing, he just called you by your name.

“Clothes,” you said, feeling little frantic. You needed answers – to so many things – but you couldn’t have that conversation with him while he was naked. You would get . . . distracted. But none of your clothes would fit him . . . wait, the boxers! Where . . . you looked . . . there!

You scurried forward and snatched the boxers off the floor. Keeping your eyes firmly on his face, you went and dropped the underwear into what you hoped was his lap. “Your boxers. This isn’t a naked conversation.”

A soft huff of laughter. “No, it isn’t. Thank you, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart again? It wasn’t a slip of the tongue? Your cheeks couldn’t get any warmer but they sure tried.

You turned away again to give him some privacy while he dressed. For a given value of dressed. Considering it was only underwear. You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt and tried not to think about that. Or his . . . everything. You had limited success.

“I’m decent. You can look now.”

‘That’s debatable,’ you thought after you turned to face him. Yes, everything that needed covering was now covered. But the boxers fit him snugly enough that very little was left to the imagination. Not that you really needed your imagination anymore . . . . And that wasn’t even taking into account the rest of him.

You had known he had muscles. You just hadn’t realized he had quite so many muscles . . .

Matt realized that you had gotten distracted when it took a couple of times calling your name to get your attention. He was well aware that you were attracted to him but it was still gratifying to his ego to experience your body’s reaction to him. And the way the temperature and blood shifted to your face when you realized that you had been caught staring was rather cute.

But he soon sobered, remembering what you had just discovered. What he needed to explained. “Do you remember how I lost my eyesight?”

“I remember,” you said.

“Those chemicals didn’t just blind me,” he said. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He squared his shoulders, bracing himself for your inevitable reaction. Then he explained how his remaining senses had been enhanced to a superhuman degree. How he could hear everything happening around him, for several blocks. Further if he was focusing on someone he was familiar with. How he could very likely find Foggy, Karen, or you anywhere in this city if he needed to.

That his other senses were just as keen. Did his best to describe his world on fire. The others had poked fun of his metaphor but it was the best one he had found. He felt the usual frustration at not having the right words, the perfect words, to describe how he experienced the world. Words that help someone else understand his world without the misconceptions.

But such words didn’t seem to exist. He had to make do with the ones he had.

He took another deep breath, continuing in a very firm voice. “My senses do not change the fact that I cannot see. There are things my senses cannot tell me. Like what color anything is. Times when my world on fire isn’t as reliable as I would like such as when I’m tired or ill. My cane and other adaptive equipment aren’t props. I’m not pretending to be blind. I am blind.”

“Someone actually said that to you?” you said, sounding shocked. It was the first time you had spoken when he had started talking.

“Yes,” he said, trying not to remember how Foggy had spit out those words. Hardly the most painful thing that had been said that awful night . . . but the clear disgust in his voice had stayed with Matt for a long time . . .

“Who?” you demanded, your heartbeat sharply rising. He heard the shift of bone and muscle as your hands curled into fists. It was sweet that your first reaction was defend him. If it was completely unnecessary.

“Doesn’t matter,” Matt said, waving it off. “They didn’t really understand the explanation at first. Neither of us were in the right head space for the conversation. We’ve talked more since then and now they get it. And they apologized for that particular misunderstanding.”

You sighed.

You weren’t entirely surprised. Matt tended to be forgiving. Along with a rather concerning habit of ignoring or downplaying things when he was the one being treated poorly . . . And, as you silently reminded yourself, you didn’t know the whole story. That wouldn’t make what they said okay but it might make it understandable . . .

Regardless the decision to forgive or not to forgive was ultimately Matt’s, not yours. And he had obviously chosen to forgive whoever it was. Best to let it go and change the subject.

“Do you want some coffee?” you asked. “Or something else to drink?”

That bit of gravel in his voice might do all sorts of tingly stuff to your insides but he had been talking for a while. His mouth must be getting dry.

“As long you are making it anyway, coffee would be great,” Matt said.

“Coming right up,” you said and went into the kitchen. As you set up the coffee to brew, you did your best to process anything you had just learned.

Matt was Daredevil. It explained a lot. Foggy and Karen certainly knew. It was the only explanation for why they went along with Matt’s very obvious lies about how he had been injured. And why they didn’t seem . . . well, you couldn’t say that there was no concern. You had seen the pinched look of Foggy’s face when Matt was moving like it hurt him to breath. The worried, accessing look Karen gave particularly colorful bruises.

And yet, they had accepted every single one of his excuses from the plausible to the silly without question. Told you there was nothing to worry about when you expressed concern about Matt’s well-being. Even through sometimes neither looked like they really believed that . . .

Now you realized that they were concerned. It was just a different kind of concerned. Because they weren’t wondering how Matt kept getting hurt. They weren’t racking their brains trying to figure out who was hurting him or if all those worrying signs were related to some kind of health problem. Like maybe he was having seizures or something like that but was refusing to see the doctor . . .

But every theory you came up with kept hitting the wall for not being able to explain why Foggy and Karen didn’t seem to share your concerns. Why they clearly loved Matt but ignored that something troubling was obviously going on with him. . . . It hadn’t made any sense.

Now it did. Matt was Daredevil. They knew he was Daredevil. And knew his injuries were from fighting crime.

Matt had super senses. Which meant, you realized with a certain amount of horror, he had absolutely heard you moaning his name while touching yourself this morning. You buried your face in your hands with a soft groan. There was no hiding your non-platonic feelings anymore. The cat was out of the bag. Pun fully intended.

“What’s wrong?”

You jumped. You weren’t expecting his voice to be so close. He wasn’t crowding you or anything. His position by the edge of the counter that divided the kitchen from the living room was a couple feet away from where you were standing in front of the coffee pot. But you hadn’t heard him moving around. Apparently he didn’t need to be cat shaped to walk silently through walls.

“Sorry,” he said, though the little twitch of his lips belied that apology. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Somehow,” you said, willing your heart to slow back down. “I doubt that.”

“Do you?”

“I saw those lips twitch,” you pointed out. “You think making me jump is funny.”

“That is quite the accusation,” he said with mock seriousness. “Do you have any evidence?”

Using his courtroom voice was cheating. Especially when he was only wearing boxers. Pure cheating. You pulled out your stubborn streak, standing with your fists on your hips. “I know what I saw. I will not be fooled by your twisty-turny lawyer tricks into saying otherwise, Mr. Murdock.”

“That sounds like a challenge, sweetheart.”

The pet name said with that almost purring voice sent tingles down your spine. And brought renewed heat between your legs. Rather annoyingly the cocky smirk on his face did nothing to diminish that ardor. Maybe if he had been wearing more than boxers . . . or if he didn’t look so good half-naked . . .

A soft cough brought you back to the present. You felt your cheeks get warm again, realizing that you had been so busy staring at his abs that you hadn’t noticed him talking.

“Distracted?” he asked, a teasing grin spread wide across his face.

“No,” you said quickly, feeling the warmth in your cheeks intensify.

He hummed, tilting his head slightly to one side. “Lie.”

“What?”

“Oh, did I forget to mention that I can tell when someone is lying?” He said, feigning innocence. It wasn’t a very convincing performance. He was far too amused.

“No, that detail hadn’t come up yet,” you said. “How?”

“Mostly your heartbeat. It changes when someone is lying.”

Suddenly, something you had observed at the office now made sense. Your job was more on the reception and secretarial side but sometimes you acted as their paralegal. When acting in that role, you had seen Foggy subtly nudge Matt who would give a little shake or nod of his head. You hadn’t know what to make of it at the time. Now you realized that Foggy was checking to see if their client or whoever else they were interviewing was telling the truth.

When you asked about your theory, Matt was quick to confirmed it. A moment later, the coffee finished brewing. You pulled down the two mugs, then doctored them to each of your coffee preferences.

“You seem to be taking this rather well,” he remarked, after taking a sip of his coffee.

You shrugged. “It’s not that surprising once I started thinking about it.”

“It’s not?”

“No.”

Matt chuckled. “What, you didn’t believe that I got that black eye tripping over a curb?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“Come on, I thought that one was very plausible.”

“Only for someone who doesn’t know you,” you said. “Or your friends pretending for the sake of your secret identity.”

He laughed. “Fair enough.”

You drank more of your coffee, enjoying the comfortable quiet. To avoid getting distracted by his half-naked body again, you kept your eyes on his face. Which probably wasn’t the best plan. Matt’s handsome face was a distraction in its own right. Especially when he wasn’t wearing his dark glasses. It wasn’t the first time you had seen him without them but the sight always pleased you. It meant Matt trusted you. Not with all of his secrets, obviously, but enough that he didn’t feel the need to hide himself.

Along with those lovely hazel eyes, there were further delights. The generous mouth, good cheekbones and that strong jaw dusted with facial hair. Heavily dusted today. He hadn’t shaved lately. So he had the very start of a beard. You had never seen Matt with a beard. You bet that he would look good with one . . .

“Penny for your thoughts?” Matt said, interrupting your attempts to imagine him with a beard.

“Nothing important,” you said. “Just noticed you hadn’t shave lately and was idly wondering if you were growing a beard.”

Matt made a thoughtful humming sound. “It is tempting this time of year but they get so itchy during the summer.”

“That sounds like the voice of experience,” you said.

“It is,” he said. “Wore one for a couple years during college. Shaved it off just after starting L1.”

“Any particular reason why?” you asked, making a mental note to ask Foggy if he had any pictures of bearded Matt. You needed to see them. For science. Or something.

“An especially muggy day in August when the air conditioners decided to stop working. And the girl I was seeing at the time liked me clean-shaven. Said my beard was too rough when I kissed her.”

A salacious grin spread across his face. “Among other activities.”

“Did she?” you said, trying and failing to sound nonchalant. Because your mind had immediately become consumed with imagining the delicious contrast between prickly beard on your thigh while his soft lips . . . warmth flooded your cheeks.

You saw Matt’s nostrils flare. Then the tip of his tongue slipped out to run across his lips. He made a soft moan that went straight to your cunt. It was impossible not to get worked up. Not with those images in your head. Not with that sound. You were equally unable to stop your breath from hitching as he stepped closer. And closer, stopping just shy of touching you.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked. His voice had always done things to you but that huskier timber really made you shudder. There was only one answer you could give.

“Yes.”

And he was kissing you. Gentle at first, a delicate press of the lips with your head cradled in his hands. But it didn’t remain that way for long. Not after all those months of pent-up desire. Now that you didn’t have to resist kissing him, you all but devoured his mouth.

Matt matched your eagerness, seemingly just hungry for your mouth as you were his. Even the need for air barely kept your lips apart. The entire world might as well have disappeared. You were aware of nothing else. Only that mouth kissing you and greedily swallowing every moan you made. Only those large, warm hands sliding down your body, skimming the sides of your breasts until coming to rest on your hips. Only his body against yours. The edge of the counter digging into your back barely even registered.

At least to you. Matt made some grumpy-sounding noise, then his hands were gripping your hips and lifting you up onto the counter. Your startled yelp turned into a moan when he slot himself between your legs. Any lingering doubts you had about him finding you physically attractive were dispelled at the feeling of his growing erection rubbing against your core. You couldn’t contain a second louder, stuttered moan. Even with too many clothes in the way, it felt incredible . . .

“If you want me to stop,” he rumbled, nuzzling your neck. “Tell me to stop. Tell me no.”

“Don’t stop,” you said, your voice dangerously close to begging. But you didn’t care. You had wanted this for so long. “Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t, sweetheart. Not unless you want me to.” he said, then one hand abandoned its place on your hip to tug lightly at your shirt. “May I?”

“Yes, yes,” you said, rising your arms to help Matt pull off your shirt. Despite the heater chugging away, your skin still immediately pebbled. Your nipples had already tightened into peaks. You kissed him again as your shirt was tossed . . . somewhere. You weren’t paying attention to your shirt. All of your attention was Matt and the hungry, almost feral look on his face.

Matt ran his hands over your body, exploring every inch of bare skin from the tips of your fingers to the waistband of your sweatpants. So soft, even softer than he had dreamed. Keeping his hands to himself the next time you were at work was going to take some serious self-discipline. He blazed a trail of kisses down your neck until he found a spot that had you shuddering.

There, he applied little nips and lathed at the skin until he was satisfied there would be a mark. One that by happy coincidence should peek out from behind the collar of your work blouses. Good. That should let any would-be suitors know that you were taken. It was selfish but he didn’t want share this delightfully soft skin with anyone.

Or how responsive you were. He greedily took in all your reactions. The dancing rhythm of your heart. The breathy moans as his mouth continued its downward journey. The gasps when he started lapping at one peaked nipple while squeezing the other breast in his hand. The way you cried out his name when he latched onto that nipple and sucked. The way you arched your back, begging for more. How your nails bit into his shoulder when he obliged, swirling his tongue around the hardened nipple. The whines when he removed his mouth from that breast . . . and how it turned into a wordless cry when he gave the other breast the same attention.

Best of all, the scent of your arousal soaking through your panties. All because of him. You smelled just as sweet as you had been this morning. Only this time he wasn’t a cat. Soon, he would be on his knees. Soon, his face would be buried in that wonderfully drenched pussy . . .

Soon . . .

You were burning. A fire that Matt had lit, then steadily built with his hands and mouth until you burned with need. An urgency that the man himself didn’t seem to feel. He moved at a speed that could be best described as languid.

“M-matt,” you whined.

“Yes?” he asked, lifting his head from your breast. Seeing his lust-darkened eyes and kiss-swollen lips made the growing ache in your cunt worse. “What does my sweet girl need?”

My sweet girl . . . . Your cunt clenched desperately around nothing. “Need you.”

“Gotta be more specific than that,” he said. “Tell me what you want.”

You were half naked on your kitchen counter and fully ready to have sex with this man and yet somehow that question still managed to fluster you. “Maattt.”

“I’m not a mind reader, sweetheart. You have to tell me what you want,” he said, sounding almost conversational. But his voice was too husky, his eyes too hungry, for that. The way his thumbs rubbed the skin just about the waistband of your sweatbands was another dead giveaway.

Your mouth opened, then closed.

“No need to be shy, sweet girl,” he continued, pausing to give another little nip to the top of your right breast. A spot that you hadn’t realized that so sensitive until he started lavishing it with attention. “No one but me will hear you.”

Biting your bottom lip, you considered that. He was right. It was just you and him. And you trusted him . . . Maybe you should start with something simple?

“My pants and underwear,” you said, managing to keep your voice steady. “I want them off.”

The smirk he flashed you was all kinds of wicked. “As you wish.”

His fingers hooked into the waistband of your pants and started tugging it down. Along with your panties. In a sharp contrast to his earlier leisurely pace, he quickly yanked down the clothes and tossed them aside. Like with your shirt, you found yourself too distracted to notice or care where your clothes went.

Matt gripped your knees and spread your legs wide. He then sank down to his knees, shifting forward until he was tantalizingly close to where you desperately wanted him. The sight once again had your cunt clenching around nothing. A deep rumble, almost like a growl, erupted from him. It matched the feral expression spreading across his face.

“Tell me what you need,” he demanded, his voice a growl full of gravel. You shuddered. You had never heard him speak like that. But it worked you up just as much as his courtroom voice. His hands tightened on your thighs. “My fingers?”

He lifted one hand away from your leg, then ran a single thick finger through your folds. You gasped when that finger brushed over your clit, then groaned with disappointment when that fleeting touch was all you got. Then felt your mouth go dry when he raised the finger to his mouth and licked off your slick. Especially when Matt let out a low moan, briefly closing his eyes in clear pleasure.

“Or my mouth,” Matt continued. You gasped when he leaned forward and gave the entire length of your cunt a single lick. You tried to lift your hips but Matt’s hands clamped down on your thighs and pinned you down to the counter.

“Matt!” you pleaded but the grip on your legs remained firm.

“Tell me,” He said, then blow a puff of air against your desperate cunt. He nuzzled your inner thigh, his rough stubble sending sparks down your spine. “What does this beautiful pussy want?”

“Maatt.”

“Tell me, sweet girl.” He kissed your inner thigh. Then another kiss. It rapidly became clear that your desperate cunt wasn’t going to get the attention it wanted unless you said the words.

“Matt!”

“Tell me.”

“Your mouth,” you begged. “Please, I need – fuck!”

Matt did another long, slow lick up your entire slit. After a teasing swipe across your clit, he turned his attention to your soaked entrance. There he lapped with soft, little licks which were obscenely loud. Like he was messily eating an ice cream cone. One that he clearly enjoyed, making a low noise that sounded remarkably like purring. The vibration contributed to making your own, much louder moans. Instinctively you tried to squirm but his hands kept you right where he wanted you. You could feel that familiar pressure start to build.

He pulled away. No! You started to protest but was cut off by Matt lifting your legs and throwing them over his shoulders. Then his mouth was back on you, his tongue circling your entrance before slipping inside you. Your hands scrambled for something to hold onto as his tongue fucked into you again and again

That something ended up being Matt’s hair. But he didn’t seem to mind, rewarding every tug on the hair twisted tightly in your fingers with a loud groan. Then his tongue slipped out of you, switching its attention to your clit. You cried out. He altered between teasing licks and stronger lapping as you chanted his name.

Matt wrapped his lips around your little bud and sucked. You almost screamed. Your legs began to tremble as you started hurling toward your peak. Then he thrust two thick fingers inside you. Your thighs squeezed his face between them. Close, you were so close . . . then his fingers curled. You fell over the edge calling out his name.

Your cunt clenched tightly around his fingers. Fingers that continued to work you through your orgasm. His mouth remained latched onto your clit, sending wave after wave of white-hot pleasure. Only you started to whimper from oversensitivity did he lift away from your clit. He withdrew his fingers, replacing them with his mouth. You let out warbling moan as he noisily lapped at your entrance.

By the time he pulled away, you were a limp puddle on your own kitchen counter. Despite your recent orgasm, your cunt clenched again. Because Matt looked thoroughly debauched. His hair mussed, eyes half-lidded, those pink lips swollen and glistening with your slick. While you watched, his tongue slide out and slowly licked it off.

Matt knew you were watching him. It was obvious from the way your heartbeat sped up. The hitch in your already heavy breathing. The fresh slick dripping out of your cunt, even more tempting now that he knew just how sweet you tasted. He settled for the slick clinging to his two fingers, putting them in his mouth and sucking them clean. Not as nearly as good as getting it directly from your cunt but the strangled groan you made watching him do it was its own reward.

Fingers now clean, he carefully lowered your legs from his shoulders and rose to his feet. Matt heard you shifting, pushing yourself back into an upright position. Then, your hands reached out and tugged his head down to kiss him. You moaned into his mouth at the taste of yourself.

But you didn’t stop there. Your hands leisurely made their way down his torso until you reached his boxers. Your fingers dipped under the waistband, then hesitated.

“May I?” you asked.

“Please,” he answered, eager to see what you would do.

Permission granted, you peeled his boxers down. His cock eagerly sprang free of its confines. As Matt finished pushing his boxers off, you felt a tinge of nerves. His cock hadn’t looked small during your brief glimpse earlier. But it had been flaccid then. Now that his cock was fully erect, you realized he was rather more . . . impressive than you had first thought. Or even imagined and Past You had been rather hopeful that he had a big dick . . .

“Sweetheart?”

The clear concern in Matt’s voice had your head snapping up. He was frowning at you, his brow furrowed with worry.

“You know you don’t have do anything, right?” he asked, his tone deadly serious. “If you want to stop right now, we will.”

“No,” you said, rapidly shaking your head. “I want to.”

He frowned, his head titling slightly to one side. Listening, you realized. Doing his human lie detector thing. “But?”

“I’m just a little nervous,” you said, tapping your fingers against your bare thigh.

“Why?” he asked.

You felt your cheeks warm. “It’s . . . um . . . you’re . . . ah . . . bigger. Than any . . . of my exes.”

“Is that so?” Matt looked distinctly smug. “I can be gentle. But if you’d like to wait –”

“No,” you interrupted. Because nerves wasn’t your only reaction to seeing his cock. Feeling suddenly bold, you reached over and wrapped your hand around his cock. And feel another tinge of nerves and anticipation at realizing that Matt wasn’t just long, he was thick. You started stroking him, slowly adjusting the firmness of your grip as you watched the reactions on his face. He moaned, his hands finding their way back to your hips.

You noted, with a certain amount of satisfaction, that he looked a lot less smug now.

Feeling more confident, you continued, “I don’t want to wait. I want this.” Your thumb swiped across the tip, smearing the weeping pre-cum. His hips jerked and out of his mouth came a beautiful groan that you immediately wanted him to make again. “Inside me.”

His hands tightened on your hips. That feral look was creeping back in. “I don’t – ah – have a condom.”

“Don’t want one,” you said. You knew it was a dumb thing to do. Reckless. But you were tired of all of the barriers that had been separating the two of you. The thought of another one just rubbed you the wrong way.

Your hand slide off of his cock. A faint whine escaped his throat. Tempting you to put your hand back. But it felt . . . coercive . . . to be giving him a handjob while asking him if he wanted a condom after you had just made it clear that you didn’t want one. Especially since you knew Matt had a people-pleasing streak.

“But I, um, have a box of condoms in my bedroom. If you’d rather wear one,” you offered, feeling renewed warmth in your cheeks. It had been an impulse purchase during one of those rare periods when you were both determined to tell him your feelings and confident it would go well . . . only to chicken out once you were actually in front of Matt.

“I don’t think many man would rather wear one,” he said. “As long as you were sure . . .”

“I am.��

“Okay,” he said. “When did you buy these condoms?”

There was a peculiar note in his voice. He sounded almost . . . jealous? But that couldn’t be right. Why would Matt be jealous?

“Last month,” you said. “Past Me, um, had a moment where she, ah, . . . was very confident that you’d agree to a date? And that sex might happen afterward?”

A smile spread across his face. “Past You would have been right. Past Matt would have agreed in a heartbeat.”

“What about Current Matt?” you asked, daring to hope.

“Current Matt agrees with Past Matt,” he said. “I would love to go on a date with you.”

Your heart gave a leap. “You would?!”

“Of course,” he said, utterly matter of fact. Like he was stating something obvious. The sky is blue. Grass is green. Matt Murdock wanted to go on a date with you. “I’ve wanted to ask you for a while.”

“Why didn’t you?” you asked.

“In part because you didn’t know about Daredevil,” he said. “Not telling a one-night stand is one thing. Not telling my girlfriend is something else.”

“Girlfriend?” you repeated.

“Yes,” he said. “If you would like to be.”

“I would like that,” you said, smiling.

“Good,” he said. Then he suddenly laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“All the ways I pictured asking you to be my girlfriend,” Matt said. “Standing in your kitchen naked wasn’t one of them.”

“Me neither.” You giggled. “We’ve done this all topsy-turvy.”

“We have,” he agreed. “Normally, I’d take you to dinner before burying my face in your sweet cunt.”

The reminder sent fresh arousal pooling between your legs. Despite that toe-curling orgasm, that particular body part was eager for more. A desire that only increased when his pink tongue darted out to slowly lick his lips. Then he made another soft moan. The same soft moans he had made while eating you out . . . your heart raced as something finally clicked together in your mind.

“Can you taste, um, . . ?” you trailed off, feeling your cheeks burn. You couldn’t say it.

“How wet that pussy is for me?” Matt said, his eyes darkening. “Yes. Having my mouth on you is better but from the air, the aroma of it, is still . . . intoxicating.”

Part of you was embarrassed. Especially when you thought about this morning, that Matt hadn’t just heard you touching yourself. But another, larger part of you was powerfully turned on. There was something very hot about knowing that just the taste of you, the smell of you, was putting that hungry look on his face.

You squirmed. Then something else occurred to you. “Technically you have taken me to dinner many times.”

“Very true,” Matt said, then chuckled. “Foggy has been saying that we’ve been dating for months.”

“Karen said the same thing,” you said. “Maybe they are right?”

“Definitely,” Matt said. “And we’ve been idiots.”

“Total idiots,” you agreed, then pulled him down for another kiss.

You could still faintly taste yourself in his mouth. Before you knew it, your hands were buried in his hair. Matt used his grip on your hips to pull you over to the counter’s edge. He pressed himself against you. Despite the intervening conversation, he was still hard. Feeling himself grind his cock against your cunt had felt good before. But now? Without any clothes in the way? It stoked that banked fire inside you into an inferno.

You wanted . . . no, you needed him. You didn’t care that you were in your kitchen. You needed that cock filling your achingly empty cut. You needed him to fuck you stupid.

“Matty,” you whimpered, breaking away from the kiss. “Need you.”

“What do you need, sweet girl?” He rumbled against your throat. “What does your pretty pussy need?”

This time you didn’t hesitate. “Needs your cock. Needs you to fuck me.”

He growled. You expected him to line himself up, to start fucking you right then and there. Instead he shifted his grip to your thighs and lifted you off the counter. Startled, your hands abandoned his hair in favor of his shoulders to steady yourself as he carried you out of the kitchen. Given the small size of your apartment, it didn’t take to figure out where he was taking you.

Sure enough, soon he was lowering you down onto your bed. He kissed you deeply as his knees encouraged your legs wider. Not that you needed much encouragement. He grinded against you, coating his cock in your slick. Sparks raced down your spine every time the head nudged your clit. It was so good. It was not enough. Your cunt clenched desperately around nothing.

“Stop teasing me,” you begged. “Please . . . fuck me.”

Which was apparently all he needed to hear. Matt took himself in hand, lining himself up with your entrance. Then, finally, he was inside you. You gasped, nails digging into his back. It was just the tip of him but the stretch was noticeable. Despite the clear hunger on his face, he didn’t move. Stayed right where he was while your cunt fluttered around him until you were ready for more. Slowly, he pressed in deeper and deeper. Until his cock was fully sheathed inside you.

You felt so good. So deliciously full. No one had ever filled you like this. Then Matt started to move, gently rocking his hips into you. Pleasure washed over you with each back and forth movement of his cock so deep inside you. You couldn’t stop moaning. You could feel yourself climbing back toward that precipice.

“Taking me so well,” Matt said, then groaned when your cunt clenched around him at the praise. “Ready for more, sweetheart?”

Your answer was another stuttered moan.

“Words, sweet girl. I need words.”

“More,” you managed to moan out. “More. Mo-”

You were cut off by sharp snap of his hips. His first real thrust into you. You cried out wordlessly. Cries that only got louder as the thrusts got faster and deeper. Instinctively, your hips began to move. You thought he couldn’t get any deeper. You were wrong. As soon as you matched his rhythm, you felt him sink just a little further inside you.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Matt grunted. “Just like that.”

Matt was always handsome. But there was something indescribably beautiful about how he looked now. The pull and flex of his muscles as he moved in and out of your body. Skin kissed with sweat. Hair, a fluffy chaotic mess. His face, for once, with no sign of worry or stress. Just pure pleasure. The grunts and moans spilling out of his mouth with each thrust only added to the beatific vision on top of you.

Your climax had been steadily building but now you were teetering on that edge. Just a little bit more . . .

Matt must have sensed it somehow because his next thrust was slower but impossibly deep and hard. You gasped, your back arching. He did it again. Your body began to shake, toes curling . . . Close, you were so close . . .!

“Matty,” you whimpered.

“Let it go, sweetheart,” Matt grunted. “Cum on my cock.”

Another impossibly deep thrust and you did.

Matt groaned as your cunt gripped his cock tightly as you cried out his name. He never stopped moving, drawing out your orgasm until you were a babbling, shaking mess underneath him.

Only then did he start chasing his release. He pumped into you hard and fast, his entire world narrowed down to you. The delightful pain of your nails raking up and down his back. Your heart pounding in his ears. The guttural noises you made as he fucked you. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin, the wet squelch of your cunt as he moved in and out . . . you were so fucking wet. All for him. Because of him.

He wasn’t going to last much longer. Not with the way your cunt kept clamping down on his cock like a vice. Feeling his balls start to draw up, he tried to withdraw. He intended to release himself on your stomach. But you loudly protested, back arching and frantic hands grabbing his ass in a bid to him keep inside you.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you begged. “Please, don’t stop.”

“Gonna cum,” he managed to grit out.

Your hands only gripped his ass tighter. “Cum inside me. Wanna feel it.”

Truth. “Sweetheart.”

“Matty, please.”

That did it. He couldn’t resist your begging. With one last hard thrust, he buried his cock deep inside you and came.

Breathing hard, it was tempting to collapse on top on you. But he couldn’t. He was too heavy. He carefully pulled out of you and collapsed next to you. Still catching his breath, he gathered you in his arms, pressing your back against his chest. Perfect. Matt liked a good cuddle afterward. Didn’t understand what some men had against it. Your soft, naked body against his, smelling like sex and his pheromones? Yes, please.

For a moment, Matt attributed your little restless movements as simply getting comfortable. But quickly he realized that wasn’t entirely it. He reached between your legs. Felt you jolt when his fingers found your clit. Then moaned as he started rubbing gentle circles. You were already very sensitive. It didn’t take long for you to reach your peak again.

Matt buried his nose in the back of your neck. In a little while, he’d need to get up and get a washcloth. Clean up the mess he had made between your legs. But not right now. Right now, he was just going to enjoy having you in his arms.

The storm broke that night, after dumping almost ten feet of snow on the Big Apple. The powers that be had crews out clearing the streets and restoring downed power lines bright and early the next morning but it took several days to get the city fully up and running again.

You and Matt weren’t trapped in your apartment the entire time. Just a couple days. Despite the fact that neither of you were used to living with anyone, it was . . . comfortable. You cooked together in your tiny kitchen without much trouble. He did his share of the housework without prompting or complaint. You discovered during the brief power outage that, in addition to being a lie detector, Matt was a human furnace. Also that he was cuddler.

Once his phone was charged enough, Matt called Foggy and let him know that he wasn’t dead. He made Matt put him on speaker-phone so he could tell you both ‘I told you so.’ A sentiment echoed by Marci and Karen. Among many, many others.

The sex continued to be mind-blowing. And frequent. Because you both were having a hard time keeping your hands to yourselves. A shower became Matt fingering you, then fucking you against the wall. Watching a movie turned you kneeling between his legs, taking his cock into your mouth. Blissful Puddle was a very good look on him.

By time Daredevil slipped out of your window on the third night, your cunt had been given quite the workout and you had lost track of your orgasms.

Life went back to normal. Well, as normal as dating a vigilante could be. You worked. Matt saved people, in and out of the courtroom. You and Matt still went on your outgoings together, only with a lot more hand-holding and kissing. And often followed by enthusiastic sex in either your places or his. Matt quickly fulfilled his promise to introduce you to his silk sheets. You were very happy.

Tonight as you headed up to Matt’s apartment, you were filled with curiosity. Matt told you that he had a surprise. Then you reached his door, he pulled his usual trick of opening the door just as you raised your hand to knock. Just to make you jump.

“Having fun, Trouble?” you asked, entering the apartment.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” he denied. But his eyes were too filled with mirth to make his protests believable.

“Lie.”

His lips twitched. But you were distracted away from whatever smartass remark that was about to come out of his mouth by movement behind Matt. You looked and to your surprise, it was a cat. A little brown-and-gray tabby standing in front of the slightly ajar bedroom door, its tail curled into a question mark.

“When did you get a cat?”

“I didn’t,” Matt said. “You did.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, assuming you want her.” He smiled. “I promise this one wouldn’t turn into a vigilante.”

“Certain of that?” You asked. The question was only partially teasing. The recent events had only cemented your desire for another feline companion. But, as much as you were happy with how things had worked out, starting to get attached to a cat only to discover that you couldn’t keep it wasn’t fun.

“Very. According to my magic expert, she’s just a cat.”

You filed away ‘magic expert’ as something to pester him about later. “Where did you find her?”

“Dumpster,” Matt answered, his expression turning grim. “Inside a knotted pillowcase.”

You stared at him in horrified disbelief. Not at Matt’s story. You believed him. But at the sheer cruelty. You knew people could be cruel. You weren’t that naive. But it still shocked you.

“Someone actually did that?”

“They did.” His voice reflected the same anger, the same horror, you were feeling. “Not the first time I’ve found something like that. Wouldn’t be the last.”

He took a deep breath. Visibly reigned in his temper, saving it for the streets or the heavy bag. “Normally I take the animals to an all-night shelter but they’re full right now. They’d still find somewhere for her with one of their fosters or something . . . but I found this one by the same dumpster where you found me. So I thought, maybe it was a sign.”

You smiled. The cat redistribution system at work. And that was that. The cat was officially yours.

You named her Blizzard.

END NOTES

Gordian knot is a legendary knot that became a metaphor for an intractable problem solved by bold stroke. Or in this particular case, one which Matt and Foggy dearly wish they could solve with one bold stroke.

That red light/red lenses thing comes from Wikipedia so treat it with the appropriate level of skepticism.

In Nelson vs Murdock, Foggy had every right to be hurt and angry with Matt. But even if it was deserved, doesn’t make what he said less painful to Matt. Personally, I think Foggy had hit that point of angry-hurt where you just want the other person to feel as badly as you do. And since Foggy is Matt’s best friend, he knows exactly which words will hurt the most. Moreover, I think he was too upset that tonight to really absorb Matt’s explanation about his senses. Hence some of his caustic comments during Season 2.

I have no proof that this incarnation of Matt has ever worn a beard. But shh, we’re having fun here.

It is my understanding that New York City during August is not only hot but miserably humid.

#fan fiction #fan fic #daredevil #mcu daredevil #netflix daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock smut #cat man do #ao3 link

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just-a-creep-babe · 2 years ago

Text

Graveyard Shift

Eyeless Jack x Reader

Commissioned by anonymous, thank you so much luv! ❣❤

Requests are closed but commissions are open!

Masterlist: x

The fluorescent lights hum overhead as (y/n) fills out the required paperwork

It’s only been a few weeks since she’s started the job, but working at the hospital has already become a sort of comforting routine

She knows what needs to be done, knows what her superiors want from her, and she’s even already befriended some of the longer-term patients along with her fellow coworkers

The work comes with its downsides, of course—hospitals aren’t exactly the happiest places in the world—but at least the night shifts aren’t all that bad; she can avoid grieving families, and most patients are usually fast asleep anyways

While most people would probably turn their noses up at this kind of job, (y/n) actually enjoyed it—especially compared to the stress and misery of med school

She finishes writing up the report, then turns to her coworker

“Hey, I think this was the last thing Hannah mentioned on the list. Do you know if there’s anything else left for me?”

Her coworker offers a half-hearted shrug, not once looking up from the front desk monitor

“There’s a clipboard next to the second computer with a list of meds some patients need to take. I can let Hannah know you’re on it, she’ll appreciate it”

“Of course,” (y/n) smiles

Even though he was sometimes a bit disinterested, (y/n) genuinely did enjoy working with James; things were always straight-forward and simple with him

She checks on the clipboard marked with the information, then turns toward James

“Hey, shouldn’t all of these be digitized?”

“Mmh, they are,” he answers, “but you know how Hannah is”

“Right,” she chuckles, shaking her head, “alright, well, I’ll be back in a few”

He gives a noncommittal hum, and then she leaves the front desk to get the necessary supplies

It’s a calm night, all things considered, but she doesn’t mind it

She much rather prefers these kinds of shifts over the more chaotic ones, anyways

She reaches the room marked “Employees Only,” flicks the lights on, and steps in

Filing cabinets carefully labeled with various drugs and an assortment of medical instruments are neatly stored in their respective places

(Y/n) makes her way through them, taking what she needs according to the papers

She finds the necessary pills and distributes them to their designated containers, then sets some additional supplies onto a cart to wheel out to the patients

She maneuvers the cart out of the room, letting the door close behind her with a resounding click as it locks automatically

And then she hums softly to herself as she makes her way through the mostly empty corridors

One by one, she visits the patients, gently wakes them up, and helps them take what they need

She's about halfway through delivering all of the prescriptions when she notices, out of the corner of her eyes, one of the lights down the hall is flickering

She glances up, and for a split second, her heart jumps to her throat when she notices it; a figure dressed in all black stands motionless beneath the malfunctioning light

She can only assume, judging by the height and broadness of the shoulders, that they're male, and the way he's gazing down combined with the unreliable lighting makes it basically impossible to discern any of his facial features

(Y/n) places a hand over her chest, feeling her frantic heartbeat returning to a more rhythmic tempo as the initial surprise wears off

Curiously, she tilts her head

The silhouette doesn't seem familiar, and he looks much too sturdy on his feet to be a sick patient

She considers whether or not she should call out to them

Do they need some kind of assistance? Are they maybe lost or something?

She doesn't want to raise her voice too loudly so as to not disturb the patients, so instead, she takes a step forwards, but then she finds herself hesitating

Something about this whole thing seems... off

Her teeth chew at her bottom lip in contemplation

And, for a few seconds, she stares at the figure, and even though she can't see his eyes, the figure seems to stare back at her

The hairs at the back of her neck stand stiff

Tension mounts with every passing breath

Until eventually, she can't stand waiting any longer

She abandons her cart to investigate further, taking a few steps on the tiled floor in his direction

But just when she's only a few feet away, the light gives out completely, and that section of the corridor is suddenly drenched in darkness

She gasps, adrenaline spiking in her system, but before she can call out, the light flickers back on, and where there was once a silhouette, there's now... nothing

No one

The woman furrows her brow in uncertainty

There's almost nowhere he could've gone so quickly undetected

A shiver crawls up her spine

Did she just imagine it?

She takes one last step forwards, carefully looking around behind some of the potted plants, but the hallway's empty

She shakes her head, trying to push away the mental image of that figure standing menacingly in front of her

Crick

She whips around, expecting the figure to somehow be behind her, but all she sees is her cart rolling a few inches forwards

She makes her way back towards it, her nerves still on edge as she reaches out to stop it from rolling into the wall

She swallows thickly

Is the floor uneven, and that's why it moved on its own?

She tells herself it is, mostly just because she doesn't want to consider any other possibilities, and she really just wants any excuse to get out of this corridor

With one last quick look over her shoulder, she shakes her head, and finishes distributing the medicine

She tells herself the feeling of being watched is just paranoia

It's only on her way back to the "Employees Only" room that she realizes something's wrong

The keycard she'd left on her cart is gone, but worse than that, a pit of dread knots in her stomach when she notices the door is open

It's open by just the faintest crack, but it's more than enough to set off alarm bells in her head

Not to mention, the light inside doesn't seem to be on, meaning it's probably not one of her coworkers

Why would anyone need to go in there in the dark?

She knows she shouldn't investigate on her own

But it's like she's lulled to the door, like curiosity or fate or some other inexplicable influence coaxes her into pressing her hand to the smooth surface, then slowly pushing it almost all the way open

It's too dark to see anything

She squints, her eyes unable to make out any concrete forms in the darkness

And it's silent inside, but the silence almost feels unnatural

It's deafening

She holds her breath, suddenly acutely aware of her own heart beating in her chest again

Slowly and quietly releasing a lungful of air, she reaches for the light switch

White light spills into the room in a sudden burst, and the intensity makes her recoil for a moment before her eyes finally adjust and she sees it—she sees him

The same figure from earlier stands with his back toward the door

A mess of medical supplies—various pills, bags of fluids, syringes and bandages—are splayed out on the counter next to a large duffel bag that looks half full

She doesn’t know how to react, doesn’t know what to say or what to do

She's completely shocked, frozen in place at the sight of this man before her

He’s easily over 6 feet tall, and he’s wearing a black hoodie, but even through it, she can tell he’s strong

He turns around, and that's when she finally sees his face

Or, at least, she would see his face, if the blue mask wasn't covering his identity

She gasps

She almost can't tell if it’s just some kind of special effect, but it looks like he has no eyes

Two black pits lie in the place of his ocular cavities, with streams of black liquid flowing freely down the front of his cheeks

Just like when she'd seen him down the hall, he doesn't move

He simply stands there, and for a few seconds, tension rises between them as neither say or do anything

The spell is only broken when, almost as if out of curiosity, he cocks his head to the side

And it’s like that simple movement is enough to snap her out of it

She runs

Her frantic steps echo down the hall, undoubtedly disturbing some of the patients, but at this point, she's beyond caring

She needs to find security, or James or Hannah—anyone!

Duffel bag slung over his shoulder, Jack watches from a distance as (y/n) reaches an emergency phone to call security

He was being sloppy, he knows he was, and while he'd usually be angry at himself, watching the rush of panic on the cute girl’s face somehow dissipates his anger

That’s cute, he thinks, she’s cute when she’s all flustered

He watches as she frantically scans down the hallway, almost like she's expecting him to chase after her

Part of him wants to

God, he really wants to

His instincts are clamoring to hunt her down, have the scent of her fear and adrenaline permeate the air as she tries to escape the inevitability of getting caught by him

He wants to give her a good scare, he wants to burn the image of him in her mind

The thought brings a mischievous grin to his face

He’s not usually one to play with his food, for lack of a better term, but something about this girl has just piqued his interest

He stays there, hidden just out of sight, watching until two security guards show up

They exchange a few quick words before she points in his direction, and they start walking toward him

Recognizing his cue to leave, he slips away in the midst of the chaos and confusion, his skill and experience making it a breeze to get away

But he knows that won’t be the last time he sees her

It takes a few days, but (y/n) eventually readjusts to working the graveyard shift at the hospital

She’d taken the rest of the week off after encountering the masked stranger, and even during the next couple of shifts, she was paranoid and on edge the entire time

However, things do settle back down, until she finds herself returning to routine not too long afterward

It’s a stormy Thursday night when she ends up back in the storage room, the room she'd come face-to-face with the intruder

She, admittedly, has been avoiding going back in, but tonight, she needs to restock some supplies, and she knows that she realistically can't avoid that room forever

It’s alright, she tells herself, nothing’s going to happen

The door unlocks with a swipe of her card; said card, of which, she now never leaves out of sight, and she opens the light as soon as she can reach for it

It feels like childish relief when she sees that the room truly is empty

No scary boogeyman hiding in the corner, peering out at her with an endless abysmal gaze

With her back to the door, she begins searching through cabinets and files to get the equipment she needs

And then she feels it; that familiar prickling sensation of being watched

She stiffens, suddenly feeling very exposed very alone and very vulnerable

It’s just paranoia, there’s nothing there, she tries to reassure herself

And she almost doesn’t want to turn around, doesn’t want to find out who—if anyone—is behind her

But alas, curiosity getting the better of her once more, she turns

A yelp escapes her, and the container she was holding falls out of her grasp, exploding in a mess of pills on the floor

The man, a tall and entirely too familiar figure dressed in all black, safe for that blue mask, seems unfazed by her reaction

He walks forwards in confident strides until he’s inches away from her

With her back pressing up against the counter, she flinches

He's towering over her

He raises a hand, and she squeezes her eyes shut, expecting him to hit her

But instead, his touch and slow and gentle as he caresses her face—like a lover’s embrace

He doesn’t speak, doesn’t say anything, but his chest vibrates with a hum, almost like a purr, at the sight of her fear

This close, she can see that it wasn’t just some special effect; he really doesn’t have eyes

Two gaping holes somehow peer into her, oozing that thick tar-like liquid

She feels sick

“What… what do you want?”

She manages to choke the words out, her voice quiet and shaky and utterly terrified

The man hums again

“Cute,” he says the word simply

His voice is a low, deep timbre, and it would be a soothing one at that, if she wasn’t so scared right now

Unease twists at her stomach like nausea

Her eyes dart behind the man, to the door leading out of the room, but she knows there’s no way she’d be able to get past him

Not judging by the size of the guy

Maybe if she buys more time, someone might pass down the hallway, and then she could call out for help or something

Taking in a shaky breath, she tries another question

“Are you… are you going to hurt me?”

She flinches again

Hearing herself say it out loud makes it all feel so much more real

But, at this question, the man appears amused

He makes a gravelly sound, one that she interprets as his laugh, and then he answers

“Hurt you, little morsel?”

He hums, tracing his fingertips along her cheekbone

“No, I’m not going to hurt you," he reassures, "I’m going to make you mine”

#creepypasta #eyeless Jack #eyeless jack x reader #creepypasta x reader #crp

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