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luvlloyd · 26 days

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🌿 | 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔: drabbles

╰┈➤ how would the ninjas react to you telling them that you love them for the first time?

🍃 WARNINGS: fluff, sarcasm, minor wound (Jay), mentions of cursing and self doubt (Kai), nightmares (Lloyd)

🌳 CHARACTERS INCLUDED: Cole, Jay, Kai, Lloyd, Nya, Zane (separately), x (gender neutral) reader

🌴 AUTHORS NOTE: tehe first writing post, hi buddies!! :) A bit of OOC Nya but I still think what I wrote for her was too cute to change <3

˗ˏˋ〘 𝓒𝐎𝐋𝐄 〙ˎˊ˗

"Cole… That’s too much sugar-" You interjected, grasping your boyfriend’s arm before he could empty the sugar into the mixing bowl.

“Oh.. my bad, (Name)." Cole chuckled sheepishly, his smile betraying his embarrassment as he glanced at you, “Sorry,” He added.

With a playful roll of your eyes, you aided him in adjusting the sugar amount, "No wonder you’re a sucky chef, Cole," you teased, prompting a scoff from him.

“Me? A sucky chef, please!" He exaggerated the ‘please,’ earning a knowing look from you.

“What? Did you know I’m secretly Gordon Ramsey’s love child?" He grinned.

“In your dreams you probably are," you laughed, causing his face to drop in mock disbelief.

“How dare you? Take this." Cole took the flour that was laying on the counter, grabbed some from the packet and tossed it into your face.

“Cole..! Stop!" You squealed, shielding your face with your arms.

“Nuh uh, you are going to face my flour wrath, (Name)!" He persisted, continuing to shower you with flour until you managed to wrestle the packet from him. Soon, both of you were engaged in a flour war, filling the kitchen with laughter.

Eventually, his arms found their way around your hips, pulling you close as you leaned against his chest, both of you still giggling,

"Cole, I love you so much," you said playfully, feeling him freeze at your words. His pause prompted you to furrow your eyebrows and stare up at him. Cole gazed at you with eyes filled with passion and adoration before he leaned in to peck your lips,

“I love you too, (Name)."

He kissed you again, and again and again. Until you both were just contently sitting in each other’s arms, embraced within the euphoria.

Unfortunately for the two of you, the euphoria was to be put on hold—You both had a bit of some cleaning up to do…

˗ˏˋ〘 𝓙𝐀𝐘 〙ˎˊ˗

The brown haired boy seemed to be bubbling with anxiety, fidgeting with his fingers as he kicked his feet against the medical bed. You grabbed the first aid kit, placing it beside him with a huff, meeting Jay's eyes.

“Do we really have to do this?" he whined, but you reassured him with a smile.

“Of course, dear. We don't want your boo-boo to worsen, do we?" His ears turned pink at your pet name as you dabbed antiseptic on a cloth.

“It's just a cut, (Name)! I don't want to go through all this," Jay pleaded as you brought the cloth closer to him. You looked at him sympathetically,

“Exactly, it's just a cut, so why are you so scared?" You paused, a playful glint in your eye, "Aren't you supposed to be my brave boyfriend?" Jay's expression softened, a grin spreading across his face,

“You're right! I am your brave boyfriend!" he proclaimed proudly. You grinned as you brought the cloth to his cheek.

He winced softly at the burning sensation before the feeling got replaced with your delicate fingers. You applied a Thomas the Train band-aid to his cut and swiftly placed a small kiss on your boyfriend’s cheek, “There you go, your boo-boo is all better now,”

“Thanks doc,” Jay said, his smile cheesy and so incredibly contagious that it brought a smile to your own lips. His bright brown eyes staring into yours as though you were a delicately painted painting, simply a work of art for him to stare at. You cusp his cheek as you both continue staring at each other, you caressed his soft yet warm skin under your fingertips,

“I love you, Jay," you spoke softly. He grinned cheekily, his cheeks lightly dusted pink at your words.

"Well, I love you more!" he retorted playfully.

“No, I love you more," you countered.

“Nope! I love you the most mostful and mostest!" he declared, pulling you into a tight hug and nuzzling his head into your neck. As you let out a small giggle he whispered into your ear,

“I love you, (Name), forever."

˗ˏˋ〘 𝓚𝐀𝐈 〙ˎˊ˗

After enduring the agonizing training, you found yourself sprawled on the floor, Kai, your boyfriend of two months, grinning down at you, his weapon by his side.

His sweat-dampened hairs framed his face as he leaned closer to tease you, but suddenly, his playful smirk fell. He tumbled forward, landing directly on top of you. He muttered a curse as his eyes locked with yours, and your breath hitched. You both were merely centimeters between each other and in that moment, you swore the world seemed to stand still.

"Hey, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice soft and gentle, “Seems like I fell for you,”

"Hi Kai," you snickered, finding his attempt at being flirty endearing. "Seems like I caught you."

"Sorry about that," Kai chuckled, rolling off to lie beside you on the dojo floor. Together, you gazed up at the ceiling, embracing the silence in the room, until you couldn't resist stealing a glance at his side profile. Holding back the urge to caress his face, you traced the features with your eyes. You met his gaze as his smirked, his eyes staring into yours knowingly.

He wiggled his eyebrows playfully as he teased you, "Like what you see, sweetheart?"

"I love it," you whispered sweetly, brushing a strand of his hair before meeting his eyes again. "I love all of you."

Kai froze, his confident demeanor crumbling as a blush painted his cheeks. His face turning as bright as his gi. His face faltering into a slight frown.

“You don't mean that," his voice dropped low into a whisper, insecurity lacing his words. You could tell he was feeling incredibly vulnerable.

"Of course I do," you promised him, a gentle smile gracing your lips as you stare into his crestfallen eyes, “I love you Kai.”

He stared into your face, trying to decipher if you were truly being genuine with him. His face brightened up as he realized you were. A sly grin returned to Kai's face, but his eyes held a warmth that made your body melt. He grabbed your hand from your side and put it up to his lips,

“I love you too, sweetheart."

˗ˏˋ〘 𝓛𝐋𝐎𝐘𝐃 〙ˎˊ˗

Lloyd woke abruptly, his body drenched in sweat, heart pounding against his chest as his nightmare caught up to him. They’ve begun appearing more frequently the last couple of years… His eyes darted anxiously around the room, paranoia lingering in his gaze.

“Lloyd?” You whispered, concern lacing your voice, you could barely see him though the darkness.

"Sorry for waking you, darling," he murmured back, his voice quivering. Sitting up, you touch his trembling arm softly,

“Another bad dream?” you asked. The boy didn’t vocalize his thoughts but instead turned to you to nod his head at you like a sad puppy.

"You're okay, Lloyd," you reassured him soothingly, you brushed a strand of his sweat drenched hair away from his troubled face.

“You’re okay,” you repeated, wrapping your arms around him. You felt him crumble beneath your touch, he sunk into your chest as he stared into your eyes. Searching them for reassurance. You begun playing with his blonde locks, a soft hum escaping your lips. You stole a glance at him. The moonlight cast a gentle glow upon his face, revealing the subtle contours of his gentle features. His eyes closed, his breath steadying into a rhythmic pattern,

"Lloyd?" you whispered, uncertainty lacing your voice. There was no response, only the soft sound of his breathing filling the room. Did he already fall back to sleep? You paused, carefully staring down at his face,

“Well, good night Lloyd... I love you," you murmured softly, turning your gaze towards the window.

Unseen by you, a small smile graced his lips, a ghost of a whisper that you unfortunately didn’t pick up,

“I love you too,”

˗ˏˋ〘 𝓝𝐘𝐀 〙ˎˊ˗

You sighed softly as you slipped into your gi, the weight of your mission pressing against your shoulders even before the sun had fully risen. With your weapon at your side, you gazed out at the horizon, thinking about the mission you had to do. It was a task that demanded your immediate attention, one that couldn't wait for the rest of the ninja to stir from their slumber.

As you prepared to summon your elemental dragon, a familiar voice yelled out to you,

"(Name)! Wait!" Your girlfriend, Nya, still in her Spiderman pajamas, dashed towards you with urgency in her step,

“Nya? What’s wrong?" you asked, concern knitting your brow.

"Nothing! I just wanted to say goodbye to you before you left," she replied, quickly kissing you on the cheek. A warmth spread through you at her touch, a feeling of comfort and belonging that only she could ignite.

"Bye (Name)," she said, her smile gentle, but then she hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features.

“What’s up?” you prompted, curious about the sudden change in her facial expression.

With a sheepish grin, Nya shook her head and presented you with a basket of food. "I um... I also wanted to give you this basket of food. I didn’t want you to be hungry while on your mission, so take it as your breakfast... I mean it’s obviously not going to be as great as Zane’s cooking, I’m sure—"

You interrupted her rambling by accepting the basket with gratitude, your heart swelling with affection for her thoughtful gesture,

“Thank you, Nya,” You stared into her eyes in adoration. Sincerity seeping through your words.

"Of course! Stay safe, (Name)!" Nya beamed, her happiness contagious as she pulled you into a quick one-armed hug.

"Bye Nya, love you," you said absentmindedly, your focus already shifting towards the task at hand as you climbed onto your dragon's back. You weren’t paying attention to her flustered behavior.

You soared into the sky, leaving Nya behind on the ground. Little did you know, as you flew off into the distance, Nya was left beaming with joy, her heart bursting with the simple yet profound words you had spoken.

"I love you too, (Name)!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with happiness as she watched you disappear into the horizon.

With a gleeful bounce, she couldn't contain her excitement any longer. "THEY SAID THEY LOVE ME—“ She quickly scowled to herself,

“Control yourself, Nya, but still!! They said they loved me!!" she squealed, her laughter echoing in the quiet morning air. Most likely awaking most of the Monastery.

˗ˏˋ〘 𝓩𝐀𝐍𝐄 〙ˎˊ˗

You sighed in frustration, your forehead meeting the cool surface of your desk with a dull thud. The blinking cursor on your computer screen taunted you as you tried to summon the words for your research paper. Procrastination had led you to this point, with the deadline looming close.

Lost in your thoughts, you barely registered the muffled noise at your door until it creaked open, revealing the analytical gaze of the ice ninja, Zane,

"Forgive me for interrupting, but I heard sounds of frustration and thought I would offer my assistance," he said, his voice calm and measured.

You managed a weak smile at his considerate gesture. "It's not a problem, I've just hit a roadblock," you admitted, gesturing helplessly towards the computer screen.

"I see no genuine roadblock, do you perhaps mean that figuratively?" Zane inquired, his literal interpretation of your words drawing a chuckle from you. As he approached your desk and effortlessly began typing away at the keyboard, you watched in awe as he swiftly completed the research paper that had been taunting you for hours,

"I believe this should suffice in terms of information. All that's left is to write your conclusion," he remarked, turning towards you with a straightforward expression.

You were dumbfounded by his efficiency, unable to believe he had solved your problem in mere minutes,

“You didn't have to do that!" you exclaimed, your gratitude tinged with surprise.

"I was simply assisting you," Zane replied, his tone neutral, mistaking your reaction for displeasure. You rose from your seat suddenly and enveloped him in a grateful hug,

"Thank you, Zane. I love you," you murmured against his shoulder.

For a moment, there was silence as Zane processed your words, his expression unreadable. Slowly, he brought his arms back up to exchange the hug,

"(Name), you are the optimal configuration for my circuits, the irreplaceable code for my function. To put it in simpler terms, I love you too," he finally responded, his words tinged with a hint of warmth that belied his nindroid nature.

TAGLIST: n/a if interested in getting tag for when I post a specific character lmk!!

©LUVLLOYD | please do not plagiarize, repost, or translate my work anywhere without my consent.

Thank you for reading! If you like or reblog or even decide to follow me, thank you sm! And if you don’t do any of those things, it’s all good! You spending your time to read this makes my day better nonetheless, so have a good one and drink lots of water and just know that I love you! (and so do these lego characters)

#🌿 luvlloyds drabbles #lego ninjago x reader #ninjago x reader #cole brookstone x reader #jay walker x reader #jay x reader #kai smith x reader #lloyd garmadon x reader #nya smith x reader #zane julien x reader #ninjago lloyd x reader #ninjago jay x reader #ninjago nya x reader #ninjago kai x reader #ninjago zane x reader #ninjago cole x reader #ninjago

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wh0re43van · 5 months

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Baby Fever pt2 (Evan Peters X Reader)

Summary: After returning your niece to her home, you and Evan go back to your own house to start you own family ;)

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex

Pt1 Pt3

A/n: I was going to throw a daddy kink in here, but I’m not too sure if that would be a turn off for people?? Let me know what you guys think! As always thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy!

Ellie ended up staying with us for close to a week, but fortunately, her grandmother is doing much better. Andrew has come home to take care of Ellie while his wife stays to take care of her mother.

We pull into Andrews driveway, returning his daughter and all of the presents that Evan insisted we buy her; I figured out why Ellie likes her uncle so much now. He bought her every single one of the Monster High dolls because he loves how her eyes light up every time she gets one.

“Thank you guys so much,” Andrew yawns as he pries a whining Ellie out of Evans arms.

“No! No! I wanna stay with them!” She screams and kicks her feet, her new sparkly paw patrol sneakers- courtesy of Evan of course- glinting in the morning sunlight peaking through the porch.

“Now that’s enough Ellie. I know your uncle has spoiled you, but it’s time to come home and unpack now. You’ll see them again soon,” Andrew explains with little patience. He looks exhausted.

“Not fair!” Ellie cries crocodile tears as Andrew opens the front door, ushering her inside.

“Let us know if you need anything else, man,” Evan smiles, pulling his brother into a hug.

•

After parking his car in the garage, Evan walks around the vehicle to open the door for me.

“Well, that was an exhausting week,” I smile as I step out onto the concrete. “I can’t wait to go to sleep,” I yawn as Evan opens the door to our house. I love Ellie dearly, but Evan has got to learn to not wind her up or give her soda before bedtime.

“We have one last thing to do before you have your nap, my love,” Evan chuckles before picking me up bridal style, carrying me off to our bedroom. He lays me on our unmade bed onto my back, crawling on top of me, placing a tender kiss on my lips.

“Ev,” I giggle. “Don’t you want me to shower first? It’s been like two days,” I say slightly embarrassed, knowing exactly where this is heading.

“Now what’s the point of that?” My husband asks in between each kiss he peppers down my neck and across my collarbone. “You’re just going to have to shower again once I’m done with you,” he raises his head to look into my eyes, making me blush a bit. I just giggle and wrap my arms around his neck, pulling his lips back to mine. We’ve been together for years, yet I still get butterflies every time he kisses me. His rough hands still leave goosebumps on my bare skin.

“Lets get this off of you,” he says softly, tugging on my oversized sweater. I lift my hands so he can pull it over my head, I lay back down as he scans my bare torso up and down. His eyes still glinting with adoration the same way they did the very first time we were intimate so long ago. His large hands softly slide over my hips and up towards my breasts.

“You’re such a work of art,” he says lowly, still simply admiring my body. “Y/n, you’ve truly made me the luckiest man alive,” he places a kiss on my nose, then pulls his black t-shirt over his head. I quickly pull his lips back to mine, desperate to taste him again.

“I love you so much Evan,” I swoon against his lips, entangling my fingers into the curls on the back of his head. Evans hands find their way to my breasts, as he works his lips passionately on mine. I trail my hands down his back to pull him closer to me, needing to feel his skin on mine. With our chests pressed flush together, I raise my feet up to the waistband of his sweats, pushing them down his legs. This earns a chuckle from Evan as he pulls away to further remove the pants and his boxers.

“That was kind of impressive,” he grins as he scoots further down the bed.

“Thank you,” I giggle while he pulls my leggings and underwear off. Evan settles between my legs, placing them on his shoulders before grabbing my hips to pull me closer to him. He uses a finger to spread my slick up to my clit, taking a moment to cherish the sight of my dripping core. “So pretty,” he says to himself before licking a strip from my entrance to my bundle of nerves, where he stops to kitten lick.

“You always make me feel so good baby,” I hum as I melt into his touch. His expert tongue works at my clit as he pushes two fingers into me, curling into the perfect spot, making me moan out his name. I feel him smile against me as he picks up speed. His fingers pumping into me at just the right pace, curling into my g-spot every time as he sucks and laps at my clit quickly creates a knot in my stomach. The room is filled with the sound of him pumping in and out of me and my loud moans as my legs begin to shake on either side of his head.

“Do you wanna cum for me, baby?” Evan smirks

“Yes,” I moan. “Please-fuck,” I squeal as my walls throb around his fingers. With Evans tongue hard at work and a steady pace I feel myself unravel. The unholiest of sounds leave my trembling lips as I release into his hand over his face. The orgasm courses through me, leaving my skin tingling. Evan crawls up to press a very wet kiss on my lips. He never wipes my release off his face, wearing it with pride as it drips down and beads in his beard.

“You taste so good baby,” he pants through the rough kiss as he wedges himself between my legs again. “I can never get enough of you,” he groans against my lips. He instinctively reaches to our nightstand to retrieve a condom.

“Have you changed your mind?” I giggle. He raises an eye brow then quickly realizes the reason for tonight’s event.

“How could I forget,” he chuckles lining himself up with my entrance, using his thumb to rub my clit. “I get to cum in this perfect pussy,” he groans against my lips making my stomach do a flip. He pulls his head back, gentle grabbing my face to look at him. His eyes pierce mine as I feel him slide in slowly, more gentle than usual, but so much more erotic. A low groan leaves Evans throat

“Fuck you feel so good,” he breaths, still staring directly into my eyes, his nose almost brushing against mine. his hand moves from my jaw to my hips so he can hold me in place while he bottoms out inside of me, making me arch my back and curl my toes.

“Oh my god Ev,” I moan, loving how deep he fills me. Evan sits up straight so he can properly thrust into me, pulling my hips flush to his every time he pushes into me, making sure to bury every inch of himself into me.

He begins to pick up speed, getting more desperate every time he rocks his hips into mine. He brings a thumb up to my mouth, pulling his lip between his teeth as I take it into my mouth, swirling my tongue a couple times.

“Atta girl,” he smirks, his eyes glancing back and for the between my own and my mouth. He removes his thumb, using it to draw circles on my clit. The extra stimulation is exactly what I needed paired with the sight of my god of a husband pounding impossibly deep into me, his curls bouncing in sync with his thrusts, his head thrown back in pleasure as he hits the deepest parts of my body. The way his veins pop in his hands and arms as he grips onto my hips for dear life, and his moans. Fuck, his moans. The sounds this man makes as he’s buried inside of me could bring me to an orgasm all on their own.

“Fuck,” I squeal, my voice trembling. Evan moves his head to look down at me, smiling at the sight below him. “Goddamn you fuck me so good,” I praise as I feel myself nearing my second orgasm. “I want you to cum in me Ev,” I demand. “I want to feel your cum inside me while I cum around your cock, please baby,” I whine as I begin to pulse around his throbbing dick. Evan groans out a ’fuck’, reaching up to grab my face again.

“Look at me baby,” he growls, “look at me while I fill you up,” he brings his face so close to mine that his hair brushes my forehead as he rams himself as far into me as he possibly can. “Fuck!” I scream- much louder than intended- the curse punctuated with each thrust. Evan groans lowly as he shoots hot white cum against my cervix as I release around him, our intimate eye contact broken as mine roll back into my head while he mercilessly fucks his seed deeper into me. Evans thrusts slow and he releases his death grip from my face. I lay panting below him, a sweaty mess as every inch of my body trembles. I feel almost as If I’m floating.

Evan kisses my forehead then pulls himself out of me, scooching down to examine the mess he’s made inside of me.

“Fuck,” he groans at the sight his cum dripping out of my swollen pussy. He looks up me between my legs. “This is a really good look for you,” he smiles. I don’t even want to move my mouth to speak, still riding on cloud nine. “Lets get you cleaned up sweetie,” he chuckles. Picking me up bridal style, carrying me to the bathroom.

He sets me gently onto my shaky feet so he can draw me a bath.

“I love you,” I say, meaning every syllable of the sentence. He turns, flashing his dimples before picking up my hands to place a gentle kiss on each.

“And I, you,” he brushes my hair behind my ear.

As I sink into the much-needed bath, Evan asks,

“So, when can we take a pregnancy test?” making me giggle.

“We have to wait a couple weeks, Ev,” I smile.

“Oh,” he looks a bit disappointed, then after a beat he smirks. “I guess that means we’ll have to do that a couple more times until we can test,”

“I think that’s exactly what it means,” I laugh.

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pikatik · 4 months

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oh my gosh hello!!

sorry for all the spam likes haha- i’ve seen your art on my pinterest and i’m so happy i found you on here!! literally giggling and kicking my feet your art style is so nice i love it!! and your book omens designs are so bajdnwjw

your book! azi is my gender goals.

anyways!!! i love your art so much!! sorry i’m like fangirling ahskwjek

(p.s are you comfortable if i made a post on my own blog telling people to go check you out? i have a ton of gomens obsessed friends who would love you blog- if not that’s totally okay!!)

AHH THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :D

I'm so happy that you like the book omens designss :D

And yes, of course go ahead, mate!! :]

#sasha answers stuff #book omens #:>

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hexalianrebel-blackfeathers · 10 months

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Never Let 'Em Know Your Next Move

Panda's Notes: Hobie is the most Switch Spider there is. I don't take notes; I don't debate; I have decided. >w< Feel free to send all thanks/blame to @rosileeduckie for the ending, which was inspired by the very lovely art they made. >w< Special thanx also to @ssnicker-doodless for helping with beta reading.

[Ao3] || [Commissions] || [Ko-fi]

Gwen peered over the back of the long couch, resting her chin on her arms as she pouted a bit. Hobie was snoring faintly, one arm flopped across his face as he slept. It was just after ten o’clock, and, frankly, Gwen was getting a little impatient.

She slipped quietly around the couch, and, being as careful as possible, she lifted his head and climbed onto the couch, setting his head down on her crossed legs. He huffed softly, shifting slightly in his sleep and yawning.

Gwen smiled slightly, poking gently at his nose a few times to watch his face scrunch up before leaning over to wiggle her fingers against his ribcage.

Hobie huffed again and squirmed, a smile sneaking across his face as steady chuckles rolled out of him. Gwen snickered to herself, letting her hands crawl over his stomach and out to his sides. He started to laugh softly, rough bass-sounding giggles shaking his body as he started to move. His hands stretched out into the air before he pressed his palms against the arm of the couch on either side of Gwen’s body. He yawned softly before one of his eyes opened groggily.

“Oi, Gwenny…” He grumbled, glancing curiously at her hands for a moment.

“Geez, I thought you’d never wake up.” She chuckled, starting to tickle him a bit more earnestly. She was shocked when he didn’t yell or push himself away from her. Instead, he let himself laugh, his voice tangled up in those giggles as her nails scribbled against his midriff.

“You’re not moving much, are you, tough guy?” She teased, sneakily tugging his shirt up a little. “You got a giggle bug in there or something?”

“You’re not funny—Gwen!” He barked out a louder laugh when she scribbled around his navel, one of his legs kicking at the other end of the couch.

“Yeah, that's my name; you need something?” She taunted, poking quickly up his torso and resting her hands on his elbows. She walked her fingers along his sleeves toward his armpits, grinning brighter at the way he shivered while keeping his hands in place. “Yeah…I’m starting to think that gigglebug is just you~”

Hobie snickered, smirking as he narrowed his eyes up at her. “Call me that again; see what ha—Ack!” He cried out as her fingers dug and scribbled into his armpits, his fingers curling slightly against the couch as he burst into cackles.

“Call you what, Hobie~? A cute, ticklish, wittle Giggleb—Ah! Wait, wait, wait!”

Like a trap snapping shut, Hobie’s hands suddenly attached themselves to Gwen’s sides, his thumbs pressing around her flanks while his long fingers wiggled over her sides toward her back. “What’s the matter, Gwenny? Always trying to start stuff you can’t finish with me, aren’t ya?” The smirk on his face shifted to a more genuine grin as he shoved his hands up into her armpits, chuckling as she squealed and tried to lean away from him. He let her go as she leaned back, dropping his hands to sneak scribbles at the soles of her feet and snickering as she nearly kicked him.

“That’s for stealing my Chucks, by the way.” He chuckled. “If you ain’t wearin’ ‘em, you ain’t safe.”

Gwen rolled her eyes and giggled, starting to pull her legs back when Hobie’s hands returned to their position on the arm of the couch.

“Ah, no, sorry, love; you’re not leaving yet.” He shrugged, smirking up at her.

“Aw, what?” She asked with a fake pout, returning her own hands to gently tickling along his arms. “Your gigglebug still hungry or something?”

Hobie somehow seemed to stifle an emotional response to that one, despite the giggles shaking him. “Oi, tell me: What’d I tell you about waking me up in the morning when I let you crash here?”

Gwen’s hands went still. Hobie kept laughing. She tried to scramble away from him, but he grabbed onto the jacket she was wearing as he sat up, dragging her into his lap and digging his hands back into her waist.

“The rule is NOT TO WAKE ME UP!” He barked over her laughter, grinning a bit deviously as he watched her flail.

-------------

“Hey, little man.” Hobie called, lightly tugging Miles’ headphones.

He had perched himself upside down on the ceiling, head buried in the sketchbook in his hand. He tipped his head, acknowledging him with a glance.

Hobie hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “You wanna grab some couch time with me real quick, mate?”

Miles hesitated a bit, but he closed the pencil into his sketchbook before placing his hand on the ceiling to swing himself down. Within a minute he was lying across Hobie’s lap, his headphones wrapped around his neck and Hobie tapping casually on his stomach.

Miles grinned warily. “Am I in trouble?”

“Only if you want to be.” Hobie teased, shrugging as he dragged Miles’ shirt up with one finger while his other hand pulled Miles’ hood over his face. “Count to three for me?”

“Shouldn’t you be the one to—Naah! I wasn’t ready!” His voice came out in a loud cackle as Hobie blew a raspberry against his stomach, and he grabbed at the arm holding his hood down.

“I heard ‘one, two’, mate; simple as.” Hobie said, the smirk clear in his voice while one of his fingers traced circles around Miles’ bellybutton.

“You know what I said.” He giggled helplessly. “I didn’t even say three—Hobie!” Another raspberry; another giggly screech as Miles’ legs flailed against the couch cushions.

“…You said three.” Hobie snickered, watching Miles try to wrestle his arm away before reaching one of his hands toward the floor and— “Hey, n-no, quit that!”

Miles had reached out, mostly blind, and tickled along the edge of his foot and up the back of his leg. Hobie quickly grabbed his arm, pinning it beside his head and scribbling under his arm with his free hand. Miles shrieked, cackling loudly and pawing at Hobie’s shoulder where he could.

“You tapping out already, Miles? Here I thought I trained you tougher than that.” Hobie gave an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head with a grin. “Or is it just because you got too many Squeak Spots?” His voice pitched hilariously toward the end, and he snatched the hand that was trying to crawl under his own arm to pin it over Miles’ head.

“Squeak Spots like that one?” Miles tried to tease as he caught his breath.

Hobie chuckled, maintaining a calm smirk and pulling Miles’ hood over his face again. “Nah, man. Squeak Spots are like this—” Miles squeaked and flinched at a quick poke to his bellybutton. “—Or this—” A screech at two fingers being jabbed under both of his arms. “Definitely this one.” While Miles’ arms were clamped at his sides, Hobie’s hands slipped under his hood, fingers crawling along his neck and scratching behind his ears. His face shifted to a bit of a sneer as Miles cracked into noisy giggles, snorts and squeaks escaping between them as he grabbed loosely at Hobie’s sleeves and kicked against the couch.

“You sound like Mayday, bruv; this’ll get you done out.” He teased. “Some mook is gonna get hands ‘round your throat, and you’ll be bustin’ up like who knows what.”

“I-I don’t understand—” Miles was barely able to form words through the giggles, only to get cut off by Hobie pushing his head to one side and blowing a loud raspberry into his neck. The resulting squeal put all the others to shame.

“Understand that well enough, Smiles~?” Hobie smirked and lifted Miles enough to slip out from under his full—now basically dead—weight. He let the teen’s legs rest across his lap, tapping a rhythm as he caught his breath.

“Nooo, don’t call me that.” Miles practically whined, little giggles still slipping into his voice. “I couldn’t get my family to shake that off until I was, like, thirteen.”

“’S pretty recent. Bet I could bring it back.” Hobie lightly poked a few lines across Miles’ foot.

“Hobie…” Miles kicked gently, pushing himself to sit up.

“What? Your parents like me; I could slip some suggestion, easy. I’m magic like that.”

“My parents don’t even like the friends who live in my dimension.” He gave a bit of a stretch, pulling his arms across his chest. “And I would have to actually kill you.”

“Pfft, like you even could.”

“I dunno.” Miles eyed him for a moment before putting his hands up, and the tiniest sparks of electricity jumped between his fingers. “I think I could.”

Hobie’s face might have twitched a bit, and he crossed his arms as he stared the kid down. “Square up then.”

Miles visibly brightened, shifting quickly out of Hobie’s lap and grabbing at his side with tingly hands. Hobie prickled at the shock, but he hardly bothered holding back. He curled up slightly, laughing softly and trying to keep his arms still.

“No fair; this worked on you last time!” Miles giggled, poking small shocks up and down Hobie’s side and ribs.

“Wasn’t expecting it last time; not my fault if you turn yourself into a one-trick—pfft, HA!”

Miles had shoved Hobie over onto the couch, one hand switching between quick squeezes and scribbles on the softest part of his hip while the other crawled along his leg to scratch his knee.

“Oh, ticklish legs? Figures you’d have Tall People Problems.” Miles teased, kneading along the back of Hobie’s calf and under his knee.

“S-Shut up!” Hobie demanded through loud giggles, crossing his arms over his face. “You little brat!”

“Hey, uncalled for!” Miles smirked at him, fingers crawling down around his ankles and up his socked soles. “You talk awfully big for someone who likes being tickled so m—”

Miles yelped as Hobie suddenly kicked him in the ribs. It hardly even hurt, but it easily threw him over the arm of the couch, leaving him slightly breathless on the floor. He let out a sort of giggle, his head spinning a little from the fall.

Hobie chuckled, having caught his breath almost instantly. He loosely held Miles’ ankle where it remained from him falling over, leaning his weight on his leg and smirking down at him. “See, now you’re in trouble, mate.”

-------------

It was actually a little rare for Pavitr to come to Hobie’s dimension. Something about the near-constant, raging anarchy made Pavitr kinda nervous. Hobie could admit that the comparatively chill vibe of Mumbatten was cozy in a way, not even mentioning how pretty a city it was.

But sometimes, you just don’t want to leave your own couch; and thankfully, the area seemed chill enough lately. So, Pavitr sat cross-legged on Hobie’s couch, wildly hitting buttons on a game controller as he tried to fight a boss. Hobie leaned backwards over the back of the couch, glancing between the upside-down views of the television and Pavitr’s determined look. He smirked to himself, reaching to run his hand obnoxiously over the side of his face.

“Oi, Pavi.” He said in a whisper, poking Pavitr’s cheek. “Pav, hey.” He poked his neck, grinning as he flinched. So began a series of mixed whispers and pokes and pinches around Pavitr’s head, escalating quickly to lightly ruffling his hair and tickling purposefully under his chin.

“Hobie!” He finally caved to giggles and paused the game, flailing one hand at Hobie’s and curling slightly away from him. “What do you want?”

Hobie shrugged with a smirk, and Pavitr groaned, shaking his head with a smile and refocusing on the game. Hobie yawned and stretched his back over the couch, feeling his shoulders and spine pop after a second. He watched Pavitr kite and jab at the boss for at least a couple of minutes before he finally rolled over. He rested his chin on his arms, his elbow nudging against Pavitr’s shoulder.

“Oi, Pavi…” He barely kept a straight face when Pavitr slowly cringed away from him. Boss was at, maybe, ten percent health. “What’d you say if I asked you to tickle me, eh?”

A look of visible confusion cut through Pavitr’s ‘focused gamer’ face, which was a shame, because that crit he just got put the boss at five percent health. “You—Wait, what?” He glanced up for half a second, panicking a little when he almost got hit.

Hobie had already moved though, now leaning over the couch directly behind his guest-turned-prey. “Ooh, too slow, mate.” He sighed as if he were disappointed, and his hands suddenly appeared at Pavitr’s sides, squeezing up and down his flanks. He pressed his thumbs firmly into his hipbones, and he sneered as Pavitr practically fell to pieces with bright laughter.

“W-Wait, no; not now, Hobie, please!” He just barely managed to hit the pause button again, and Hobie lifted his hands away.

“What’d you pause it for? You’re close.” Hobie was grinning like a fiend, letting his hands hover tauntingly.

“I know what you’re doing.” Pavitr couldn’t keep the nervous giggles out of his voice, and he didn’t dare look back. “Not my first time around the block with you.”

“Aw, c’mon now; I’ll be nice.”

“No, you won’t…”

“Nah, I won’t.” He leaned and rested his hands on Pavitr’s legs. “I think you just need one more hit though. How about it?”

The pause lasted a bit longer; Pavitr whined, and Hobie smirked at the pout he could picture on his face. Without warning, the game started up again, and so, with equal warning, Hobie’s hands scribbled along Pavitr’s thighs and knees.

“Tricky little bastard.” Hobie teased, resting his chin on Pavitr’s shoulder as he giggled loudly. “Yeah, maybe stop missing the guy.”

“Shut up!” Pavitr giggled, and the game paused again. Hobie pat his thighs, chuckling softly. “Hobie…”

“It’s just one more hit, mate. Pretty sure, anyway.” He let his fingers walk, slowly, almost politely toward his knees again. “Waitin’ on you.”

Pavitr flicked through the pause menus, using a few items before, once again, dropping back into the game when he thought it was safest. Hobie let him have that one second of thinking he wasn’t paying attention before his hands scratched and scribbled at both of his feet, ripping an adorable shriek out of his mouth that was quickly followed by cackles.

“Oof, maybe someone should consider a costume that doesn’t go around barefoot.” He hummed, poking his fingers between Pavitr’s toes.

Suddenly: an explosion appeared on the screen, the boss keeled over with a roar before suddenly bursting in a cloud of smoke and random drops.

“Well, damn, Pav. Look at you!” Hobie chuckled, nuzzling playfully against his face, and giving a few more gentle scribbles at his feet. “Respect, really.”

Pavitr stonewalled him—Well, almost, scratching between his toes still made him squeak like a mouse—and he clicked through the menus to save the game without looking back at Hobie once. He leaned to slide the controller onto the table before sitting up; he rolled his shoulders for a moment and cracked his neck as he uncrossed his legs. Finally, he took a deep breath and let it back out.

And then he grabbed Hobie by his arm and the back of his shirt, heaving him over the couch and slamming him against the cushions harder than necessary. Hobie didn’t put up much of a fight, laughing softly as the wind was knocked out of him on impact. By the time he looked up, Pavitr had moved to perch on the couch arm, crossing his arms as he tried to glare down at him.

“Pavi?” Hobie asked casually, mimicking his crossed arms. Pavitr held up one finger, cringing a little as he stood up and stepped onto the back of the couch.

He crouched down again, smirking this time. “Every boss has a second phase, Hobie.” He quipped, snapping his fingers.

Hobie snorted, shaking his head. “Took ya a minute cookin’ that one up, eh?” He grinned as Pavitr sat on his legs and glared at him again. He grabbed Hobie’s wrist in one hand, drawing his fingers down his forearm and tracing the edge of his hand.

Hobie prickled, biting at his tongue and the piercing on his lip as his whole arm tingled under that touch. “Y-Y’know anything about palm readin’ yet, bruv?”

Pavitr gave him that look he kept specifically for people who tease him about the same old stereotypes. “I do actually!” He said brightly, the sarcasm probably indecipherable to someone who didn’t know him as well as Hobie did. “Like, this line right here tells me you’re super ticklish!” He scratched gingerly along the largest visible line on his hand.

“This line shows you’re prone to being really bratty if you don’t get enough tickles.” He traced the muscle around Hobie’s thumb.

“Each of these lines—” He traced up each of Hobie's fingers, the smile on his face still genuinely sweet. “—Represents every little tickle spot you like. And, yeah, there are a lot of them.”

Hobie was…well, “struggling” was a fitting word. His free hand hadn’t really moved from where his arms had been crossed, but he gripped at his sleeve as Pavitr started teasing his palm. It tickled so badly, but at the same time, it wasn’t enough to really break him. His breath left him in shaky giggles that he had already given up on trying to stop, and his arm twitched as if every muscle inside was a tightening spring.

“Easy to forget, but this spot here—” He traced gentle circles on the back of Hobie’s hand, smiling brighter as his fingers clenched. “—keeps track of all your tickly energy. Even when you’re tickling someone else. And this last one…” He paused, staring as if he was confused. “Here, let me just—”

He suddenly blew a raspberry on the palm of his hand, and Hobie fell apart, his giggles bursting into loud laughter as his fingers tried to scratch Pavitr’s neck. The speed at which Pavitr shut that down made him flinch.

“Yeah, sorry; I couldn’t read it.” Pavitr shrugged, removing his grip from around Hobie’s fingers. “But, it pretty much just says ‘Tickletickletickletic—’"

“Pavi!” Hobie practically snorted, finally yanking his hand away when Pavitr scribbled at his palm. He let out a few tired laughs as he slowly caught his breath, flexing his hand in an effort to get rid of those tingles.

“Not gonna work, Hobie~ I thought you wanted me to tickle you!”

“Shut up…” Hobie rested his arms over his face, still giggling quietly and twitching a little as Pavitr started to poke him again.

“Poor, poor Gigglebug.”

“Do not call me that when you’re in throttling range.”

“Oh? Why? Would it be like this?” He moved his hands quickly up to Hobie’s neck, fingers scribbling at his collarbones and under his chin.

Despite the new wave of loud giggles, Hobie shoved himself to sit upright, wrapping his arms tight around Pavitr and leaning into his shoulder. Pavitr giggled quietly, getting one of his own arms free and tracing gently on Hobie’s back.

“I win.” He teased sweetly.

“I am going to kill you.” Hobie’s threat came on shuddering breath, and he snickered as nails dragged over his spine.

-------------

“Ooh, he’s taking the vest off!” Gwen called teasingly, snatching it out of the air when it was thrown at her head. “So serious all of a sudden.”

“Fuck you.” Hobie smirked; it felt good to be able to say that again. “‘less you want to go first, Gwenny.” He pulled his arm across his chest before rolling his shoulder.

“No, no; do your macho thing.” She taunted, slipping the vest on almost automatically. “So, Miles? Explain.”

The little gang was gathered in one of the training rooms at Spider Society HQ, sharing a few stories of feats from each of their dimensions, when Miles brought up the night he and Gwen had shut down Kingpin’s collider. Mostly, how he had barely survived the aftermath of doing that.

“Okay, so, like I said, the collider’s collapsing in on itself; implosions, explosions, it’s just crazy.” He began, twirling the strings on his hood between his fingers. “And I’m just there holding a string of web, and well…” He shrugged, lying across Pavitr’s lap. “Didn’t let go.”

“Pretty sure we’ve all done the lifeline before, bruv.” Hobie huffed. “Don’t see why ya wanted to bet on it so bad.”

“I never said it was a bet! You’re the one who—” Miles stopped himself when he caught sight of the smug look on Hobie’s face. “Look, just hold the thing, and don’t let go. Three minutes. Sound good?”

Hobie mulled it over, letting himself sink back to the floor. “Make it five. I’m showin’ you brats up today.” He smirked, setting a timer on his watch.

Pavitr chuckled, playing with Miles’ hair and glancing at Gwen. “He’s asking for it again.”

“Is he?” Gwen placed a hand on her chest, filling her eyes with as much shock as she could manage. “I never would have guessed.”

They giggled; Miles didn’t catch on until a few seconds later; and Hobie went a bit still.

He rested his arm across his knee and set his chin on his hand, levelling his eyes at the three of them with a stern sort of look. “Oi...”

His tone shut them up instantly, and he couldn’t resist smirking.

“Since you all like laughing so much, I suggest usin’ your five minutes wisely. Because when they’re up, well…” He shrugged casually, firing a small amount of webbing onto the floor and taking the strand in both hands as he laid back on the floor.

The trio glanced warily at each other before moving to line up beside him.

“Hm… Let’s try—” Gwen lifted Hobie up onto his side, and she and the boys crowded against his back. “Thoughts? Arguments?”

Pavitr leaned against Hobie’s thigh, smiling brightly. “Good here.”

Miles pat gently along Hobie’s arm, reaching to start the timer on Hobie’s watch. “Ready when you are.”

“Let’s go then!” Gwen declared, and the second Miles pressed the button, thirty fingers promptly set to crawling anywhere they could reach. Barely ten seconds passed before Hobie was struggling to keep his mouth shut. His hands clenched and pulled at the piece of web as snickers shook his frame.

“Sooo, five minutes, huh?” Miles snickered, scribbling gently along his armpit and ribs with both hands. “How’s everyone been? Hobie?”

“Shut up.” Hobie snapped at him, biting his lip on a few giggles.

“I’ve been great, personally!” Pavitr called, leaning slightly as he squeezed Hobie’s knee and around his hip. “Projects at school are going well; Margo said she might have a web shooter design for me; ooh, and I got to hang out with our favorite Gigglebug just recently.”

Hobie’s legs kicked slightly, and he barely managed to keep his mouth shut.

Gwen giggled as she watched Hobie’s face, scratching quickly across his stomach and up his side. “Ooh, our favorite Gigglebug? Maybe your favorite, Pavi.” She teased, sneaking one of her hands to pinch Miles’ waist and grinning as he elbowed her back. “I can’t blame you though; he does have this cute tickle button.” Her fingers managed to track down his navel through his suit, finally dragging out some unfiltered giggles.

“So do you!” All three boys said suddenly, eyes on her, and she was taken aback. They all fell into laughter, hands faltering enough to give Hobie a chance to breathe.

Miles snickered and leaned on Gwen for a moment, one hand digging fingers under Hobie’s arm while the other crawled along his neck. “I love that you didn’t tell me about your little nickname, by the way, Hobie; it’s awfully cute.”

“Why the fuck would I—No!” A choked laugh cut through his threatening tone when both of Miles’ hands moved back under his arm.

Miles shrugged, smirking down at him. “Well, if you’re going to beg for us to tickle you, it’d be a lot easier if we had a name for your little moods.”

Hobie just laughed and tried to curl up, his boots squeaking against the floor as he kicked.

“You still holding on, Hobie~?” Gwen called playfully, goosing his side and hip. “You know you can just admit you’re having fun.”

“F-Fuck off already.” Hobie’s voice was teetering on breathless with how he was straining to stop his giggles. “You brats wish you were as strong as I am taking this.”

Miles rolled his eyes and scratched at his ribs, but he blinked as Gwen leaned close to him.

“On my signal, we need to bolt.” She whispered; he practically had to read her lips.

“Wha—?”

“I play drums, Miles; keeping time is the least of what I can do. And he’s definitely jumping you first, so…”

She tapped his knee sharply, and he stammered for a second before turning invisible. Pavitr did a double-take, and as he was pushing himself off the floor, Hobie’s watch started beeping loudly.

The room was suddenly quiet as Hobie’s hands finally came off of the web, and he shut his watch off before running the heel of his palm under his eye.

“Ya always thinkin’ you’re so damn smart.” He murmured, pushing himself to stand up. “I was actually always planning on getting’ you first—” He fired off a shot of web fluid, catching Gwen by the back shoulder of his vest and yanking hard before she could just shrug it off. “Gwenny, I’m sick of you takin’ my shit!”

The sneer on his face said otherwise, especially at her indignant whine when he caught her against his chest. “You threw this at me!” She hardly even put up a fight as he scooped her under his arm, giggling excitedly even before he tickled the back of her neck.

“Yeah, and you sure fuckin’ caught it. Look where that got ya, sis. Oi, losers! The longer I wait for you, the longer I destroy both of ya.”

It was easy to keep Pavitr in his peripheral; his costume didn’t blend at all with the shadows here. Miles, though, Hobie could easily hear him hopping around nearby, inching closer with each landing.

It was hilarious being the only truly unpredictable one in a room, and Hobie loved showing these kids up.

#tickling #a panda writes a thing #atsv tickle #hobie brown #miles morales #gwen stacy #pavitr prabhakar

257 notes · View notes

cellophaine · 1 year

Note

hi, happy new year! first & foremost i love all your work, highlight of my 2021; it always got me giggling & kicking my feet LMFAO i was wondering if you could do a slow burn (the reader could be a vigilante working alongside daredevil), & it’s the enemies to lovers trope, with the italicized oh/ah for realization, angry love confession & all, if you know what i’m talking about. & one of them goes “please-“ in a breath of a whisper & the other just slams their lips into theirs. sorry if this is a lengthy request LMAO do what you want with it!

I'm very sorry for the 10-and-a-half-month-long wait! This was a long request, so I did try to put everything together in a way that makes sense. I hope you'll enjoy it!

Futile Devices

Pairing: Matt Murdock x GN!Reader

Word Count: 8222.

Warnings: Violence. Light angst. Enemies to lovers. A tiny mention of decapitation. Blood. Injuries.

Author's Note: I wrote this with a female reader in mind, but there's no mention or indication of Reader's gender.

Holy shit, this is the longest thing I've ever written. I hope you guys won't be bored to death lol.

*The events in this fic took place after Daredevil season 3*

GIF Credit

The familiar click of the coffee pot registered somewhere in his keen hearing, but he didn't seem to notice. Matt was going through a series of motions, scrambling his eggs, flipping his bacon, getting his plate and mug ready for his breakfast, all while his mind walked on a frenzied march he couldn't keep up in the recollections of that night. That night was long gone, five days into the past, but it was still fresh and present to Matt, no matter the logic he came up with. He tried, and failed. Again and again. It haunted him in his few hours at nights of lying awake, and his days of paperwork and court affairs. Matt had to admit this could be something worse than he initially thought.

The last thing he needed was a new assassin in town.

Thin as a hair thread. That was how close Matt was to failing to save another's life. A criminal's life, but a life regardless. He almost lost it to the hands much more brutal than him. Much more merciless. Even more so than when Matt lost himself, haunted by his mistakes and Elektra's death, tormented by his own malice, of what he would be capable of had he let his pain consume him whole. The fact that someone was out there with such force and cruelty was alarming. It wasn't your ruthlessness that confounded Matt; he was no stranger to it, but everything about you.

You evaded his sweeps and blows as if they were nothing, as if he was only a martial arts enthusiast and not the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. The gracefulness in your moves made you look like a ballerina to his enhanced senses. The sharp gusts of air from your movement cut his skin like a dull blade, and Matt suspected the purpose was not to hurt him, but to warn. You rendered him almost helpless, meeting him for every strike. A good match in all the wrong ways, for all the wrong reasons.

You had the agility and deadliness of the Hand's lifeless soldier, which made Matt think you were one of them. Still, the steady rhythm of your heart said otherwise. It was as real as the sharpness of your dagger when it slid across his forearm. Your mercilessness was not the most fatal part of you. The precise delivery of your weapon almost took a life, and even though Matt prevented that from happening, he felt as if letting your victim live was your decision, not his. He was only a witness who was at the right place, at the right time. Your escape was silent and swift, leaving no trace for him to follow. No matter how hard he tried, he could only detect a subtle scent of wet earth in the air, and nothing else. Since then, Matt had spread himself thin, patrolling the Manhattan area, even as far as Brooklyn, asking for his friends' help in places he couldn't reach, like a confused hound dog on a blind chase. The clues he picked up were only fragments of a bigger picture you were a part of. Days passed, and the seed sprouted from his curiosity of you kept growing, yet his search gave him nothing to attach you to.

Not until tonight, when your ruthlessness struck again.

You took hold of the man's collar, tugging on his tie, making sure that it sat tightly at the base of his throat. His face turned a dangerous shade of red, blending in with the crimson liquid and purple bruises all over his skin. His mouth opened to take in desperate gulps of air as you wrapped the remaining blue-striped tie around his neck, making a noose.

"Pl-please … don't do this. I have a wife an-and … a daughter. I have a family. Please!"

You sighed, bored and fed up with what he told you. In the face of great danger and near death, they always said the same thing. You would know since you had lost count of the men and women who had told you they had families. Unfortunately, none of them was alive to testify that.

"I know you do, Eddie. I had one too, at one point. But they're all gone now …."

You tugged hard on his tie, making him choke on the restricted and precious breaths. His face, stained with tears, only stroked your confidence. You almost had him. Just a little more, and you would have your next victim. Or victims, if he was so generous as to inform you.

"Tell me names. Better yet, point me in their direction, and I just might spare you."

Eddie shook his head, whimpering pathetically.

"I can't. They'll know it's me. They'll kill me."

You ran your beloved weapon along the side of his torso, hinting at the possible chance of you cutting him up at any moment like he was a rag doll. You rested the edge of your blade against his bloated stomach while he tried to stay away from it as much as possible with his legs and hands bound. There was no use in doing that, but he desperately tried, wriggling and struggling against the confines.

"It's either me or them that will end your life. So choose."

You dipped the blade into his side. It wasn't too deep, just enough to draw blood. The metal parted his flesh with little resistance, smooth and easy as if cutting through a leaf. The man before you cried out in pain; his prayers were half screams, half cries and all the agony. He sputtered, choking on the words he desperately tried to get out.

"Imani! Imani Campbell! She's the head of security f-for the Stromwyns. She and h-her team have access to everything!"

You pulled the blade free, patting his face softly as you cooed at him.

"There we go. Wasn't that easy?"

The man sobbed uncontrollably. Blood seeped out from his dress shirt, staining the fabric a dark red. You registered a soft thud from behind; the sound, accompanied by a low voice, made its presence known.

"Let him go."

The deep timbre in his tone was familiar, even though you barely exchanged a word that night. Only grunts of exertion. Twirling the dagger in your hand playfully, you took hold of the hilt once more before slamming it into Eddie's temple, knocking him unconscious. What you might have to say to the man behind you might fall on Eddie's deaf ears since he was only a thin thread away from passing out, but you preferred not to leave that up to chance.

You turned around to face him, fastening your bloody dagger to the strap on your thigh. Your gaze assessed him as you took a few steps forward. The man from the night before returned with a fresh bandage on his forearm, courtesy of your blade.

"I'm sorry. Who are you?"

Your voice was light but alert. You pushed your tongue against the roof of your mouth, keeping the smile off your tone. You wondered what he had to say.

"I should be the one who asks you that."

You chuckled to yourself. An expected answer, but different from what you anticipated from him. You figured as much.

"I thought you should know who I am already, considering what you've been up to lately, Matt Murdock."

The muscles in his body were pulled taut in his straightened posture, locked up in alarm, and you didn't miss that.

"How do you know my name?"

You tsked, shaking your head in mock disappointment.

"Don't feign innocent now. You were looking for me, trying to sniff me out like a dog."

His hands balled tightly to the sides, and you could see the tension in his jaw, even from a safe distance away.

"How do you know that?"

"By doing the same thing as you did. I like to be five steps ahead of everything, you know? That's how I stayed out of your radar."

You were prepared and well-versed to the point it felt like a game. A game of hide-and-seek, catch-and-release. Just simple as that. You spoke over your shoulder as you turned on your heels, returning to the unconscious man.

"Now excuse me, I was in the middle of something."

He was silent and fast. Before you could give Eddie the second slap to his cheek, Matt seized you with his arms around your torso and dominant arm, dragging you away from Eddie. He backed you into the cement railing; the hard and rough texture dug into your back. He pinned your arms back, spiking pain and discomfort along your body. Nothing you could handle. Your heart rattled in your chest as you looked up at him; his laboured breathing reverberated and mirrored your own. You stayed like that for a few moments, studying each other. You felt no fear, yet your heart thundered, your blood pumping for something else.

To your surprise, he smirked as if he had caught onto your wandering thoughts and foreign feelings.

"You're not scared. You're not even frustrated. You're… excited."

You held your tongue, waiting for him to continue his assessment.

"Perhaps this has something to do with me. Having someone on your level."

You huffed a biting chuckle, your eyes trained on the part of his face exposed to you. Plump lips accentuated by light stubble, adding softness to his rugged intricacy. A strong jawline that you wouldn't mind caressing, stroking the scruffy hair on your fingertips. And putting your dagger to it. You would place your fingers on the delicate pulse on his neck while you did that, feeling the panic coursing underneath his skin. But you suspected your foe wouldn't be scared off by a sharp blade that easily.

"Maybe I do like a challenge. At last."

Fearless to the point of arrogance. Matt was dumbfounded, then it clicked: you didn't know who he was. You might be new to this city, its politics and underground scenes. Maybe you were here on a chase for something, someone dangerous, following the trail of blood, corruption and murders. It led you to his territory, which he had slowly but steadily returned to protect. When Matt told you as such, a skip in your heart told him he was right. You went still against him, and goosebumps rose along your skin. Still and rigid, a stark contrast to your confidence and playful manner just moments ago.

Either way, whether you were familiar with the area or not, Matt had to clarify one thing.

"You must stop what you're doing."

"Which is …?"

You dragged your sentence, feigning innocence. The slight lilt in your voice should irk Matt, but to his surprise, it didn't. It glided on his eardrums, soft and soothing, which had started to distract him. Just a little bit, Matt assured himself. He lied some more when he told himself that your body, pressing snugly against his, was not the reason for his slipping focus. Not at all. Your body was warm; Matt could feel it even through your suit. The unconscious man's blood on your gloves enveloped his acute sense of smell, steering him back to the conversation he was having with you.

"Killing those criminals. Taking lives that aren't yours to take."

You fell silent, and Matt could hear the grind of your teeth. The muscles in your jaw grew taut, and he had no doubt that he had struck a nerve. Matt paid extra attention to another scent entering his olfaction. Subtle, yet refreshing, like wet earth … after the rain. And all of a sudden, it made sense to him. Perhaps you used a scent like that to blend into the element around you, becoming one with your surrounding. Leaving no trace. Just like that night when he first met you. The more Matt learned about you, the more fascinated he became. But he wouldn't have known that yet. Not at that moment.

You pushed yourself up, pressing your chest flush with his. Your voice was low in contrast to your guards, which were high and tall, and you hoped they wouldn't topple over.

"Just like you said, they were criminals. I don't kill anyone that doesn't deserve it."

Your answer didn't satisfy him by the way his jaw clenched, his lips curved downward in disapproval.

"What they do is wrong, but that doesn't mean they deserve death. Two wrongs don't make one right."

Your hands tugged on the skin and bone shackles he had on you, but he wouldn't let up. Your skin prickled in frustration.

"I'm weeding the bad out. You should thank me since I'm doing you a favour."

He tightened the hold on you, making an imprint on your wrists.

"They deserve second chances for redemption. How can they change for the better if they're not given a chance to do so?"

Okay, now you were beyond annoyed. Who the hell did he think he was? To walk all over you, to jeopardize your mission. To act as if he was the one with authority.

"Stop with the fucking lectures! Not all of them deserve that."

You thrashed with all you might, desperate to escape his hold. But Matt held on.

"They're humans. They make mistakes, just like you and me."

That snapped something inside you, something that had always been there. You tipped your head back and slammed your head to his face. Matt let you go as he held a hand to his nose. You delivered a sharp blow to the base of his throat, right below his Adam's apple, effectively choking him. He sputtered, taking a few steps back, holding his throat while you followed him like a predator. Anger and grief took over, like a storm waiting to be unleashed.

"Spare me that bullshit!"

You grabbed his shirt, gripping it and pulling him back to you before throwing him against the brick chimney.

"If you know so much about the way this …"

Matt held a hand to his nose, swiping the runny liquid onto his hand. From the feel of it, a small part of his nose was splintered, but other than that, no serious and long-lasting damage. You took hold of him again, throwing him against the bricks.

"… thing works, then tell me. Tell me how it feels to have my entire life stolen from me. To have my family taken away, to have those barbaric so-called human beings abuse me, torture me, put drugs and chips inside of me like I'm no less than a toy? I'm nothing more but a weapon, a tool for their profit. And when I finally escaped and tried to have a normal life with a normal guy, they found me and took that away too?"

You leaned closer, and Matt could sense something other than his own blood. The salt of your tears, the blood rushing in your veins, fueling the rattling rhythm of your pulse.

"Tell me, Murdock. Tell me how it feels like to come home one day, and find your love's decapitated head on the bed you shared, in the only home you've ever known?"

And then there was nothing, only your heavy breathing and his; the wind died down, and the city carried on. Matt thought about the accident years ago, losing his sight, then his father. Stick came as abruptly as he left, and that was how he spent most of his teenage years alone and aloof. Matt couldn't shut out the clamour of crimes happening around him; he was helpless to it. When he decided to do something, to take charge, Matt lost more than he gained. Still, there was Foggy, who brought so much joy to his life. Foggy's presence was a blessing. Then came Elektra, who made him feel heard and understood when no one else could. Being with her was an ever-changing mesh of euphoria and affliction that stuck with him, before and after. The fights he had fought for the better only brought more pain to his life, full of losses.

The words manifested on his tongue, but he didn't say any of them. Your pain was your own, and it was immeasurable. Matt held both hands out in a gesture of peace. And when he spoke, the words were ripped right from his heart.

"I am sorry for everything that happened to you. I won't say that I understand everything what you went through. But I do understand why you're doing this. Trust me, revenge is not everything."

"No, you don't know anything about me."

Your tone was sharp. Final.

"Let me guess, you have some sob stories too?"

He swallowed hard, and you knew you were right.

"I guess that's why we turn out like this, huh? Inflicting pain on others because we can't bear our own."

It hurt more than the healing wound on his arm, than the forming bruise on his throat. It was as if your dagger had sunk into his chest and twisted until his heart was nothing but a mangle of tissues and vessels. He protected Hell's Kitchen; he had kept it safe with his violence. Deep under the overlapping layers of his good conscience, he knew it was another way for Matt not to face his own pain. The past year was the embodiment of that. No matter how much time passed, he knew that time would always stay with him, reminding him of the destruction he had made.

"Stay out of my way if you know what's good for you."

You turned on your heels, stepped onto the ledge and jumped. Your gracefulness landed you on the fire escape as you descended, blending in with the surroundings once more. Matt tipped his head back onto the warm bricks and caught his breath, deep in thoughts and the scent of you lingering behind.

Wet earth. Fresh rain. The saltiness of your tears.

Matt came home to his empty apartment; frustration and pain burned his skin, grating his insides. His throat hurt, the wound on his arm throbbed, and his nose stung, but at least it had stopped bleeding. Matt knew he would have to take it easy for the next few nights. Matt peeled off the dirty suit, undoing the hand wraps quickly. Standing in his boxers, he went to the kitchen and turned on the kettle. The small machine hummed as it heated the water inside as Matt prepared his tea. While waiting for the water, he went to the bedroom and grabbed a zip-up hoodie and sweats before gingerly them on, careful of his injuries. Matt went through the motion automatically because he didn't allow himself to stop and think. Not yet. The kettle whistled a high-pitched note, dragging him to the kitchen. Water was poured, tea steeped, and honey added. Matt settled down at the kitchen table with his mug, hissing softly as his aching muscles voiced their discomfort. Matt closed his eyes, letting the steam of chamomile soothe his eyelids before diving into everything he knew about you. Which was not much at all. But he had more now than he knew of you six nights ago.

Rubbing his throat, Matt took a sip of his honeyed tea. He recalled the sound of your voice, the inflection of it when you were angry. The piercing rawness of it when you cried. He got to learn another part of you that he had tried to reach. You were in the position to knock him out swiftly, to kill him even, but you didn't. You spared him of your own volition. He might not know your name, but he knew your pattern now. You struck precisely, seizing someone on the weaker links and climbing up. However, singling out one of the lawyers on the retainer for one of the most notorious crime families gave him a clue of what you came to New York for. Even though it was out of character for you, it gave him a hint of where you could go next, and Matt wasn't going to pass out on this chance. The crime family you targeted was someone he had an interest in himself. The Stromwyns. They were a force to be reckoned with, and from what he knew of you, you acted alone. It was personal from your history with them, and he suspected you wanted to take them down yourself. Matt would admire your bravery if it wasn't so reckless and incredibly foolish. But on what ground could he judge you, considering that he did the same thing?

Your fist curled tightly, your knuckles drenched in blood and mangled flesh of your own and your victims. But you wouldn't stop, not until you got what you wanted. A swift punch followed another on Imani's broken face. Her bodyguards and associates laid unconscious a few feet away, leaving only your ragged breaths and the woman's pained whimpers echoed in the destroyed meeting room. You usually wouldn't strike them at their base, where they could easily call for backup, which they did, but you felt particularly reckless tonight. You were up for a challenge, and you almost paid for it. The searing pain on your side was the throbbing proof. You wanted to speed your investigation along, too impatient to wait. You had done enough of that. Still, this stubborn woman before you wouldn't give in. You could feel your temper rising, and soon, you wouldn't be able to control it. Imani was a delicate knot in an elaborate scheme that you couldn't solve by cutting her string short. You didn't take out her whole team for nothing, especially when your venture for revenge ended up being something bigger, something more sinister than you thought.

You gave Imani's face a slap. She came to before you, despite her drooping eyelids.

"I know the Stromwyns are planning something big. Tell me what it is."

She gave a bloody smirk, her teeth stained red. She tried to keep her head straight, her eyes bored into you.

"No."

"Should have saved that energy telling me what I want."

Another jab, and she fell to the floor. You propped her up against the table, pulling out the blade concealed on your thigh.

"One last chance. I won't be so lenient this time."

The thumps of his boots made it to your ears, and you felt the air change slightly. Maybe it was just you. His footsteps drew closer on the once pristine marble floor behind you, entering the crime scene. You closed your eyes, already knowing what he would say.

"Don't do this."

You didn't bother standing up to greet him this time.

"I've killed before. This will change nothing."

"Believe me. It will."

His tone was the same. Kind, soft, imploring for the part of you that no longer existed. Yet, he still searched for it, drawing it out. You would lie if you said you couldn't feel the tug of his kindness and patience on your heartstring. It was just that you couldn't afford to follow his call.

"Why are you still trying? Why waste time on me?"

You had to know whether it was his Catholic guilt, and you were his charity case, or it was something else entirely. It wasn't like New York's shady marketplace lacked assassins for hire. You knew that as much.

"I was you before. You think you're irredeemable. But you're not. You still have a chance to turn around …"

Your real name on his tongue sounded foreign to your ears. It affected you in a way you didn't think possible. The sound triggered the alarm going off in your head, screeching in your ears. You slowly rose on your feet, exhaling an unsteady breath. You had isolated yourself and made acquaintance with no one. The shock of Matt finding out shot unnerving prickles along your skin. You used his name in vain to gain an advantage, while he used yours in the hope of steering you back to yourself with such an intricate tenderness. And that made you angrier than ever.

You closed the distance between you, wielding the dagger between your skilled fingers.

"Who do you think you are? Waltzing in here with your talks, when you're doing the same thing as I am–"

"I don't kill–"

"Same - fucking - shit! Just because you don't kill doesn't make you better than me."

Your words were punctuated with each swipe of your weapon, which he easily dodged. You were blinded with rage, with a wave of anger so potent that you could only release it when your blade had sunk into his flesh. You knew deep down if you stopped, your weaker emotions would get the better of you. Your fury consumed you whole, fueling every step as you advanced toward the infuriating figure that seemed to have so much trust in you.

"Stop it! I know you have it in you to stop. I know it feels good to get revenge, but it will ruin you."

Matt only dodged your blows and not once fought back. It only fueled your boiling rampage.

"Shut up! Just … shut up and fight back!"

It was harder to ignore his voice and what he said now. His words were like vines, slipping through the cracks of your control, taking root quickly. But you were broken; no one could mend you. You had long accepted that you would never be someone you once wished to be. This was your life. Full of rage, violence and loneliness. That was how you would die. Your demons would always follow you, then, now, and when it was your time to depart this world. You were beyond saving.

The quiet click of a gun made you whip your head toward the sound. You couldn't see clearly through the veil of tears that had started trailing down your cheeks. That was when you realized that you had been crying. It was such an appalling recognition that you didn't register the bullet leaving its chamber. Everything that happened after that was so fast your mind couldn't catch up. You could only feel. You felt the rough contact of his body against yours when he tackled you, the hard marble floor on your back when you crashed. Matt continued to shield you with his body over yours as a few more shots rang out. He cried out suddenly as a bullet hit him; his body jolted but didn't move an inch. You tried to push him off you so the two of you could run for cover, but he wouldn't budge. Suddenly, it became eerily quiet except for some empty clicks, followed by a sharp cry of pain as Imani got up and took off toward the exit. You pushed Matt off, getting yourself ready to run after her, but you ceased acting on your instinct. Matt tried to rise with one hand braced on the littered floor, his lips parted to expel a pained groan. Your foggy mind replayed the feeling of him lunging for you, saving you from the bullets' line. You blinked, watching as your whole body trembled, the bloody blade unsteady in your hand. Your target had escaped, but that was the least of your concern right now. You looked to your saviour, fixed on the ghastly look on his almost unmasked face. His eyes stared straight ahead, his mouth opened agape, and his movements shaky before he dropped to the floor with a sickening thud.

Matt woke to the unfamiliar surrounding, with strange air and the companion of another's presence. He found himself almost naked, saved for his boxers, nestled between the warm sheets that definitely weren't the silk he used to. Despite its roughness, it was just as nice as his own, as it possessed your scent, earthy and soothing. Matt had grown to like it. A pleasant mix of you and his own blood, which he could sense as he moved to set his feet on the floor. Matt ran a hand through his face, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and felt no resistance. He seemed to only recognize the missing safety of his mask now, and for a brief moment, he panicked. It was soon washed away when the gentle breeze carried something else in from the open window. A scent of moss, morning dews, and vines seemed to attach themselves to the brick exterior of the building, like soil after the rain. It reminded him of how you always blended in with your environment. And the thought eased his concerns. If you wanted him dead, he wouldn't be alive right now. But Matt was here, in your home. Hurt but alive, the rough gauze on his thigh reminded him.

Matt took a few unsteady steps as he oriented himself, getting familiar with the surroundings. The search for the door was a success, and he opened it to step into a different world. A different feel. The space was warm and pleasant, with sunlight coming from the right side, and the aroma that hung in the air felt homey. Upon further inspection, Matt could smell freshly chopped parsley, rice, and chicken. In the midst of everything were you and your ever-steady heartbeat.

Without turning around, you directed him.

"Take a seat. Food is almost ready."

As soon as the words left your mouth, you bit onto your bottom lip, feeling a little out of place. There was something strangely domestic about the way you told him to make himself comfortable. Even though you did try to kill him just a few hours before.

Matt searched for the seating and sat down, his back resting nicely against the cushion. He closed his eyes, soaking in the warm sun. You let yourself look at him from where you were standing, taking in how peaceful he seemed. How at ease. He seemed different, yet still the same as the person who had followed you, matching your violence with his own just to urge you to turn the other way. Realizing that you had been staring at him for perhaps too long, you whirled around to tend to the steaming food. With the porridge done, you turned the stove off before pouring a good portion of the hot dish into two bowls and sprinkling some parsley on top.

You put the bowl in front of him with a soft thump, and his eyes lazily slid open. The spoon made a small clang on the wooden table as you set it down on his right before going to your seat. Matt picked up the spoon, taking in the dish before him. It was steaming hot with a savoury aroma of rice, chicken, herb and seasonings.

"I didn't poison it, don't worry."

Matt huffed a soft chuckle.

"I trust you."

"You're way too trusting considering what you do."

That made him smile. Matt took a spoonful of the food, blowing it for good measure before giving it a taste. A pleasant and hot feeling engulfed his tongue before it smoothly chased down his throat. The taste was delectable, flavourful and wholesome. It warmed him inside out.

"Seasonings are on your right. Just reach your hand out a little."

That made Matt pause for a moment, but he didn't say anything. You continued your meal in silence, and the air between didn't feel tense or forced. Outside of the enclosed space, New York was a bustle of sounds.

Your spoon made a small clang on the side of the bowl, and it seemed like you decided it was more than enough to start a new conversation.

"I'm guessing from the way you are not panicking or overwhelmed or freaking out, you've been blind for a long time?"

No beating around the bush. He liked that. People walked on eggshells around him, around his disadvantage, for a good reason. But Matt didn't need coddling. He definitely didn't need protecting, either.

"Since I was nine. Freak accident."

"Freaky indeed."

Those two words marked the end of your conversation. Matt occasionally felt your intense gaze, watching him carefully as he cleaned the bowl. Once his and your hunger were satiated, you put the dishes away in the empty sink. Matt stood up to help, but his good intention was quickly forgotten as he hissed lowly in pain. He touched the area around the wound, feeling its mouth crack, allowing the blood to seep into the gauze. Matt winced, and it didn't escape your watchful eyes.

Rummaging around your kitchen, you poured him a glass of water and set two pills in his palm.

"Take these. Or don't. I don't care."

Your halfhearted concern warmed his heart. He knew your intention behind it, and the little spike in your heart never lied. Matt took the pills as you walked away, fetching the medical kit.

"Can I see your wound?"

He nodded after a brief moment. You dragged your chair to settle beside him, and your thighs exchanged accidental brushes. Your touch was careful and tender as your hands worked on his broad thigh to unwrap the bloodied bandage. Matt's jaw clenched, holding back a pained groan as you pressed gently around the tender area. You cleaned up the blood with a clean cloth, precise and swiftly. Not a word passed between you as you secured the wound with a sterile bandage until you asked if you could see the injury on his side. There was something serene, tender and peaceful about the way you took care of him, as if you had done this many, many times before. As if you had known each other for a lifetime.

Once finished, you pulled away with a gentle squeeze on his knee before working on your injured hands. You sighed in exasperation as you undid the hand wraps. The torn skin on your knuckles was red and angry, staring back at you as they throbbed a warning melody, giving you no choice but to listen. You would have to take it easy for the time being.

Lost in your thoughts, your hands pulled on another roll of gauze when Matt's warm hand on your wrist startled you, sending a pleasant prickle to your skin. Your eyes widened as Matt extended an open palm, wordlessly offering to help you dress your wound. You stared at him, your eyes flicked at the upward motion of his brow. Tentatively, you passed the white fabric to him. Matt held you in his hands and quickly assessed your knuckles. Your hands were colder than his, calloused and scarred, like a written memoir of your past that you carried all the time. He tried not to think about the smaller, barely-there scars you probably obtained from your younger years. You were older now, yet, your fight hadn't ended. The path you walked on only led you further into the woods like a prisoner who still fought even though their chains were broken, their prison door unlocked. He wanted to focus on the now, where you were safe, alive and with him.

Judging by the echo of your apartment, it was spacious, cozy and most likely expensive. It was a bold move, living in the heart of Manhattan. You were almost fearless, that much he knew. Matt had no doubt that you knew what you were doing, considering your profession. Maybe your name on the lease was fake, or someone owed you a favour. A very big one.

"How do you afford this apartment?"

Matt kept his voice light, distracting you from the sting of disinfectant.

"How do you?"

You asked him with just as much airiness, if not more. He chuckled softly, shaking his head as you found yourself smiling with him. You continued as the crinkles around his eyes deepened in amusement, remembering that you probably knew where he lived.

"I kill for a living. Sometimes. I'm pretty good at my job, remember?"

Matt took a deep and sharp breath, and you bit your tongue. It was too much, and you felt stupid for making that joke.

"I only take on jobs that target the Stromwyn. Nothing beyond that. Anyone with mutual interest benefits me."

"I know."

"Do you now, smartass?"

Matt could hear a slight smirk in your voice. It was refreshing to see you so relaxed, so … different from what he had known of you. But then, you were full of surprises. Silence fell over you like a thin veil; the only sound left was his movements, wrapping the bandage around your hand.

"Don't you get tired of it?"

The strokes of his hands were soft, certain as he wrapped himself around you. His warmth spread to your hands, making you shiver. Just slightly. You took a long moment to yourself, mulling over what he said.

"I do. But I can't stop. They're still doing it to children, to little kids like … like I once was. I'm a result of them, and I won't be the last."

His grip on your hands tightened, careful of your injuries. Matt brought your intertwined fingers closer to his chest, urging you to look into his unsighted eyes. Upon the near distance, you noticed the hazel gleaming in the bright light of your kitchen, holding more than just your attention.

"What they did to you is not who you are. They don't get to make you into someone you don't want to be."

His words were kind, his touch was soft, and they suffocated you. You jerked your hands out of his as if his touch burned you. A reflection of hurt took shape on his furrowed brows and curved lips, and you felt sorry for pulling away. When did you turn so soft for a man you barely knew?

"My firm can bring attention to their organization. With a big case like this, it can't stay under wraps forever. I have connections, and I can assure you that there will be people looking into this. We can work together. I can help you. Let me. Please."

You swallowed hard, feeling queasy in your seat. You stood up, and Matt followed, but he gave you space when you started pacing. You had known for a long time that you wouldn't be able to do this by yourself. The Stromwyns' influence ran deep. It would take more than an assassin with a want for vengeance infused in her blood to uproot that. To completely dismantle their organization, you would need a miracle. And Matt just might be that miracle you need. You sighed heavily, bringing your nervous pacing to a stop. You held his unseeing gaze, more for your sake than his, as if to seal your fate.

"Fine."

Matt offered a hand to you, initiating a physical agreement. After a brief moment of fleeting contemplation, you held his offering hand and shook. He pulled you closer to him by your skin-on-skin attachment, making you take a sharp breath as the sudden movement grazed your wounded skin.

"No killing."

You tugged on his firm clasp, and he wouldn't let go.

"Fine. No killing."

Matt only released you then, and you were all too eager not to have his hands on you again. That was what you told yourself, even though your heart thrashed unhappily at the traitorous thought. The tingling feeling on your fingers was back, and your mind raced with the possibilities of an uncertain future and foreign feelings.

Matt delivered on his promise. It was a long fight, stretched over two years, but the outcome was victorious and sweet. Nelson, Murdock and Page investigated and gathered evidence with witnesses, bringing the case to New York's district attorney. The ordeal was blown up, which brought in law enforcement from the higher-up. The news of the Stromwyns controlling important assets throughout New York, infesting neighbourhoods with gangs and criminals to secretly collect "protection money" from the residents, was brought to the media, pulling the attention of the whole country. When things began to come to light, the Stromwyns issued a bomb threat in an attempt to bury the whispers. It backfired as the warning was proven real by you and Matt on your investigation at night. The FBI quickly acted on the lead, making arrests for the whole family. The Stromwyns were forced to liquify their assets, and their accounts in foreign countries were seized and frozen by the CIA. Unfortunately, before law enforcement could put all of them in cuffs, some members of the family had already fled to Europe, according to the intel you obtained illegally.

It amazed you how a team of three managed to make such an impact, how relentlessly and tirelessly they worked to get people involved. You were also a part of that team; Matt told you no matter how hard you denied it. He introduced you to his friends and partners, Foggy and Karen. Even though they were skeptical of your relationship with Matt, they took your intel seriously and worked with you. You kept your distance, knowing they weren't comfortable being in the same room with an experienced assassin as in Matt's past, and you were fine with that. You had a working association with them, striving for the same outcome. You weren't there to make friends.

You weren't sure what to make of your relationship with Matt. Something had changed, but you didn't want to acknowledge it. You couldn't. It wouldn't be fair to him when you had to leave eventually. You had each other's back when you scouted for new information, when you infiltrated the Stromwyn's warehouses. Those fights didn't often result in grave injuries; when they did, you took care of each other. Small and big damages. Matt ensured that you looked after yourself and wouldn't agonize over your past. He was there to soothe you in his secure embrace when you had a nightmare. It was almost as if his arms and hands had morphed around your frame, embracing you, making you feel at ease when your grief was too much. You would wake up thrashing in his arms when the needles were too close; the stiffness paralyzing your body felt too real. Eventually, your place or his wasn't a matter since you would always end up in the same bed at the end of everything, whether due to exhaustion or nightmare-filled nights into early mornings. Whenever you woke with a headache, he would have his special tea readied, along with medicine at your request. You were afraid that he would spoil you rotten, and if you got used to his affection and care, you would never be able to leave. You couldn't stay, couldn't allow yourself that one thing. You had shared too much of yourself with him, and you were afraid you would be left with nothing if you kept on giving. You knew you didn't deserve him. So you packed your stuff up and booked a flight to Germany, following the trail of the scattered Stromwyns. You decided to leave without a word, but Matt had another idea.

"Don't do this to me."

Call you sentimental, but you had come to the rooftop of your building one last time to soak in the sound, the feel, and the air of this city. There was nowhere else quite like it, and the reason wasn't entirely due to the man standing behind you. You didn't have to turn around to know it was Matt. Your apartment was empty now, doused in the warm late afternoon light. Matt stood before you, his dress shirt creased, his tie crooked, his hair ruffled, and his face flushed from exertion. He must have run from his office in Hell's Kitchen to your apartment in Midtown Manhattan. You extended your gratitude to Karen and Foggy in person for helping you with the case before Matt got there, nothing else. You guessed they were suspicious of that and told him, even though you didn't show anything out of place. You wanted to get this over with.

"Do what?"

"Leave. Leave New York. Leave me."

The wounded edge in his plea twisted the knife that was already embedded in your heart.

"I told you. I can't rest when they're still out there."

"Let the authority take care of that. Don't be reckless."

The tone in his last sentence was stern, reprimanding as if you were a child out of line.

"Me? Reckless?"

You turned to face him, appalled at his audacity.

"I followed your 'no killing' rule. These bastards are still free because of it."

Your hands helped enunciate each word you threw at him, even though it was fruitless. You were making a point for yourself. An excuse to leave.

"They can't run forever. You've done your part. You've suffered enough."

Matt erased the distance between you, getting close enough that you didn't want to step back. You would miss his warmth.

"Stay. You have friends here."

His tender intention thrummed on your nerves, coaxing your guard like the sweet honey he always put in your tea. His words were so convincing that you felt like you could be fooled.

"No, I don't. I don't have anyone."

You stubbornly turned your head away, unable to look at him.

"You have me. Foggy and Karen, too. They don't say it but they do care about you. And I do, too."

"You don't mean that."

"Yes, I do."

He said it with so much conviction. You wanted to believe him.

"I can't, Matt. I don't know who I am without this."

The constant running, following, chasing. The continuous shutout from people, shielding yourself until you were isolated and all alone. In a way, your violence, pain, and loneliness were a way for you to punish and protect yourself. That was how you stayed anchored to reality, never strayed too far from your cruel fate, and never looked at what you could have been.

"You're still you. The strongest, most stubborn person I know. Even when you don't know yourself, you'll get there eventually. Stop running and allow yourself a chance to live the life that you deserve. To be who you want to be."

"I'm still a murderer. That's all I am and all I'll ever be. I'm only capable of that, and I will only bring you down with me by merely being in your life."

He shook his head.

"Yes, I will, Matt. Nothing good comes with me. Why don't you just let me go?"

Your throat hurt with the stricken cry that was torn from your chest. Your eyes were wide, watching Matt through the thin veil of your tears.

"I love you."

"What?"

"I love you. Everything about you."

Matt inched even closer, and you let him step into your space, knocking down your crumbling barrier. You weren't strong enough to back away. To run. You were exhausted from it.

"Please …"

You had always been careful, five steps ahead of most things. But not everything. You didn't expect to fall for Matt, yet, you did. This was his desperate plea for you to stay, to live your life instead of hiding in the shadows, being a ghost of who you truly were. He had whittled away your defence wall, brick by brick, over the span of time you knew each other. He taught you there was safety in letting go. And you did.

In a swift and clumsy motion, you slammed your lips against Matt's, accepting his promises, love, and everything in between. His full lips were soft and addictive, parting easily to deepen the kiss. Your tongues tangled in a fiery dance, and you felt like you could get drunk on his taste alone. Like the barest hint of salt, a touch of cinnamon spice, and something else that only belonged to him. His hand tangled in your hair, bringing you closer as if it was possible. When he was finally satisfied with the absence of space in between, his hand trailed down to the column of your throat in a soft caress, before stopping at the coursing, delicate pulse. Matt pressed in with his fingertips, acting on the overwhelming need to feel you, to feel the proof as if your woven bodies and intertwined tongues weren't enough. That you were real, and you were here with him. You only parted when you felt like your body could slip away from your consciousness. You heaved hard, feeling the gasps of air on your lips as Matt touched his forehead to yours. He whispered against your lips.

"Please. Stay with me."

You closed your eyes. You were tired of running, of letting your rage consume you. You and Matt were two flames. Similar to a fault, but he brought balance to you in his own way. He soothed that anger inside you and showed you that there was more to you than your past, the deadly intents you carried in the company of your wrath. You had a chance to start over with a future that wouldn't end in solitude, with the man who had so much trust in your potential when you didn't. At last, you weren't afraid to take it for yourself, as long as Matt was with you. You nodded; your face bore joyous tears and a genuine smile.

"I'm all yours."

*Likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!*

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alittletaste · 1 year

Note

Could you please write something about Harry going to get y/n her cravings? Thanks 🙏

The one where Harry and Jude go to get Y/n her cravings

“C’mon buddy, we need to find mama her pickles” Harry spoke, adjusting Jude, your 3 year old in his arms. On a normal Saturday at 7pm, you and your little family would be cuddled up around the TV watching some movie that was on but since you’ve gotten pregnant again, things have not been normal.

Pregnancy was a weird experience, one minute you could be chilling and the next you’re hit with cravings or random twinges of pains. It was the gift that just keeps giving. This pregnancy had been particularly worse than your first one, with your swollen feet and bad back making you more miserable and achey then normal.

“Otay daddy” Jude lisped, making Harry let out a soft chuckle as he found his way to the aisle he needed to be in. Jude’s tiny feet kicked around in his arms, his hands grasping at Harry’s shoulder.

“Can you see the pickles, bubs?” Harry asked, tickling Jude’s stomach as he nodded. “I see it daddy!” He exclaims, pointing to the shelf the pickles were on.

“Where?” Harry looks around aimlessly, pretending to not see the pickles, he avoided the shelf making Jude laugh in his arms.

“There daddy, look” Jude spoke, guiding Harry’s face with his little chubby hands, to the correct place making him gasp.

“Oh my, how did I not see that?” Harry fake gasped, walking over to the shelf and putting the jar of pickles into the basket he was holding alongside Jude.

“Silly daddy” Jude giggled, making Harry laugh and ruffle his hair that looked identical to his own.

“You’re just like your mama, huh? Making fun of daddy all the time” mumbling, Harry made his way over to the checkout but not before picking out your favourite chocolate.

“Do you want some chocolate too bubs?” Harry questioned, already knowing the answer, your little one was a chocoholic.

“Yessss thank you daddy” Jude replied, quickly reaching over to grab his favourite bar of chocolate. Jude, freshly being 2, still hasn’t mastered the arts of eating properly, so Harry was well aware that chocolate was going to be all over the place but he’d do anything for that smile on his little man’s face.

“Now let’s hurry back, mama must be very hangry right now” Harry said after paying for all the items, he buckled Jude into the back seat before getting in and driving off.

***

“Go on, show mama what you got her” Harry unlocked the door, setting Jude down. As soon as his little boot cladded feet hit the floor, he was off, running into the lounge to see you laying on the couch, a cup of tea in your hands.

“Hello baby, come give me a cuddle” you sat the cup down, opening up your arms for your little one who gladly came running to you. “Hi mama!” He exclaimed, still not properly understanding the pregnancy just yet, especially with you being early on so he wasn’t as gentle.

“Careful bubs, don’t want to hurt the baby” you reminded him gently and he nodded, remembering the talk you and Harry had with him just a couple nights before.

“What’s that you’ve got there?” You asked as he snuggled into you, two bars of chocolate in his hands.

“Chocolate mama! For you” he handed you, your favourite making you smile.

“Thank you very much, my darling” you smiled, kissing into his hair, grateful to call him your own.

“Where’s your da-”

“I’m sorry, the toast took a while to make” Harry said as he walked into the room with a plate, your current favourite meal on it; jam and pickles on toast.

“I’m a very spoilt lady tonight” you speak, grabbing the plate Harry handed to you, he picked up Jude as well, giving you some space to eat.

“I’ll spoil you even more once this one’s in bed” Harry promised, his hand coming over to touch your little bump.

“I’ll lik-”

“Daddy! Open please!” Jude cut you off, shoving his chocolate bar into Harry’s face making you both chuckle. God, you loved your little family.

#harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles x y/n #dad!harry styles #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff

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ratstuckintheblender · 2 years

Text

Here's the truth, then. Red had stood in the middle of the courtyard, staring at this dead body that had landed splat out of the blue. Needless to say, he was pretty baffled.

The other inmates had watched him intently, waiting for his orders.

Apparently, he'd blinked, shrugged, and said, "fuck it. we'll start it now.”

Credit: @recklesslycaffeinated

—————————

Gruesome scene but like I couldn’t help dying at how that would’ve played out like

“Oh- damn,ok then”

My art Ik I was pretty lazy but I’m taking a massive shat rn 🏃🏃🏃

Squealing crying giggling kicking my feet like a school girl go read or you’re racist/j.

#saving three ex cell ent skeletons #undertale #ao3 stuff #ao3fic #Underfell #prison au #sans #underfell sans #doodles #fanart

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fuwahua · 11 months

Note

For the 3 sentence thing ^^

Lee Tighnari with Ler cyno, lower back right above his tail (ticklish backs need more attention I think ^^)

No pressure to write anything tho, have a nice day/night/morning✨

SO SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT!!!! ヽ(；▽；)ノ Thank you so much for requesting cnnri I love them fluffy bois very much (and your art of said fluffy bois too <3) I hope you enjoy some Cynonari banter !!

WC: 1.2k

Summary: Tighnari's agreed to help out with some commissions in the desert. Cyno's just being a perfectly concerned friend helping convince him to... reconsider.

“Nahahahaha! CyNOahahaha! Stop!”

“Cyno? Don’t you mean Cy-yes?”

“NO!”

Tighnari gasped out before dissolving back into giggles. Cyno’s hands continued to skitter over Tighnari’s sides, smirking when Tighnari belted out another plea of laughter in response. “Wrong answer again, Nari~ Come on, you know what you need to say to make it stop.”

Tighnari’s ears trembled as he shook his head, flailing in his attempt to push Cyno’s wandering hands away. “I-I told ehehehehe you I CahaahAn’T!”

“If you can’t handle this, how will you be welcomed into the desert?”

“THAHAHAHAT DOESNT MAKEHEHEHE SENSE!”

Oh Archons, what a stupid thing to fight over. Tighnari kicked his feet out as he tried to turn over from Cyno, squirming with giggles when those hands wandered down from his sides to his stomach. His jacket had ridden up in their sparring, leaving his bare flesh unprotected, and he shrieked out a protest as Cyno took advantage.

All this for a commission. It wasn’t even his plan! Traveler needed some guidance deeper into Sumeru regarding an Adventurer’s task and asked him for aid—a completely, utterly normal request between them (and, he’d like to add, something Cyno also asked him for all the time). Admittedly he had accepted before even considering the details, at the time more than a little desperate to get away from the strange reporters turning up in Gandharva Ville digging for information about the former sages, and failed to consider the potential heat risks of taking on two separate desert commissions.

Even so. “AhaHAHA Thiiis is ehehHEHEHE OHOhoveheherboard!”

“Oh, you’ve gone overboard? Well, let me get you back on board!”

Tighnari’s head shakes, arching his back and trying to headbutt Cyno when his fingers dig into his navel. He shouts with laughter, arms quickly huddling together to try to pry those stupid, betraying hands out, protesting all the while.

“I’m telling you, dangerous eremites wander the sand anytime! You’ve got to be prepared, is all.”

“GehehEHEHEHET OFF!”

Cyno yelps as Tighnari manages to shove an elbow beneath him, thrusting upwards with a rush of strength. It’s not enough to dislodge his friend entirely, but there is just barely enough room between them that Tighnari can turn himself around, protecting his stomach.

“T-thehehere! See!” He pants, half-turning to glare at Cyno. “Even compromised, I can still defend myself. You forget that I’m a ranger.”

“And you forget what happened in the Interdarshan Championship,” Cyno tuts. They stare at each other, locked into their own choices partly out of compassion, partly stubbornness, before Cyno smiles. “Fine, fine. I’ll let you go to the desert.”

“I wasn’t waiting for your permission…”

Even though he says that, Tighnari waits for Cyno to get off him. Except, Cyno’s thighs stay tight around his hips, and though he lightly wriggles to remind the other, he doesn’t move at all.

“Uh, Cyno?”

“Yes?”

“I thought you were letting me go,” Tighnari deadpans, sighing. “So, get off me.”

“Welllll… I am going to let you go to the desert. But what kind of friend would I be if I let you go without some training?”

“Cyno, no, I’ve had enou–gehehehhee! CynoAHAHAHA!”

Cyno’s whisper is devious. “Training part one: what should you do if an eremite grabbed your tail from behind juuust like this?”

“THAHAHA’TS CHEEAHAHAHATING!”

“Cheating! How dare you—I’m a TCG man of my word! Come now, you wouldn’t really accuse the Mahamatra of cheating, would you?”

Tighnari shrieks out a wordless reply, hands thumping against the floor as his body is flooded with ticklish sensations originating from Cyno’s nails right on the jut of his tail. He thought he’d been clever by turning around to protect his bare stomach, but the sensation of Cyno’s scribbling hands just over that patch of skin on his lower back on top of the beginnings of his tail were going to drive him insane.

It certainly didn’t help that practically no one ever tickled him on the back, especially not near his tail. The entire ranger unit knew that the area was a no-go in general and any and all attempts to comb their fingers through his fur was a one-way ticket to getting punched. What they didn’t know was that part of the reason Tighnari refused to let anyone near his tail was because he knew just how ticklish he was there and wanted to avoid any accidents at all costs.

Something, of course, Cyno knew all too well.

“Hmm, I don’t know about letting you go to the desert after all~ training doesn’t seem to be going too well?”

“ENOUGHAAHAAAHAHA!”

Archons, he was going to kill Cyno after this. Tighnari’s tail swishes from side to side but it’s impossible to avoid the way Cyno pinches the back of his flesh and spreads out his fingers, making him cackle. Tighnari’s legs kick out, desperate, but besides a few “whoa!” from Cyno, he doesn’t budge.

“I know!” Cyno gasps, leaning over and dragging his nails up up and then down in a long, lazy stroke that has Tighnari arching his back with wheezes, “what if I came with you?”

If he could, he’d smack Cyno helmet-up for putting him through this entire ordeal just to ask to accompany them. Hell, the Traveler would probably jump for joy to have another helper. He could have simply asked instead of tickling Tighnari to pieces.

“Well?”

“FihihiHIHIHAHAHANE! YOU CAHAHAHN COMEHEHEH!”

Tighnari slumps over as Cyno finally comes to a stop, hands moving against his back in slow, soothing circles instead. It still tingles, light ghost tickles that keeps him giggly, but the fau massage does help chasing the last of the sensation away until Cyno hops off him, allowing him to roll over and curl his tail protectively over his back.

“I.. hate you…”

“Aww, you don’t mean that.” Cyno scoots over him, smirk wide on his face. “Come on, it’ll be fun! Two of us S-tier members, we’ll turn the desert into just desserts! Get it?”

Tighnari groans. “Cyno…”

“Desert! Desserts! Two S-tier members.”

Actually, killing Cyno would be letting him off easy. Tighnari glares at the other, tail swishing dangerously. “Cyno.”

“Okay, just think about it, the only difference between a sand dune and a plate of cavities is the addition of an extra s, so adding me, an S-tier member, to you, another S-tier member, is—”

“Yeah, yeah, real funny…”

“Right?! Hm? That’s weird… you never like my puns unless… Eek! N-nahahahri, nooo!”

“You’re coming with us to the desert right? What would you do if those evil eremites found out just how sensitive your ribs are…”

“WahahAHAHHAIT! MERCHIIHIHIHI!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll help you get those just desserts.”

#cynonari #tighnari #cyno #genshin impact #tickling #my fic

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onlyswan · 4 months

Note

Art you have no fucking idea how famous you are on twt and within army in general i met up with a few armys in my city like a get together with about 100 of us in Orange County and god we were all talking about fanfics are you’re SUCH A FAV AMONG ALLLLLL 😭😭😭😭

Btw idk if you remember me but it’s me Ari I’m so sorry I fucking ran away and vanished i just was focusing a lot on myself and my degree got caught up with life and then got admitted in the hospital for 2 months because of pneumonia

BUT IM ALLLL GOOOOD I have this entire week off and I’m gonna read all your new drabbles i see there’s like 4-5 since i was gone 🥹🥹🥹

AHHH I HOPe you’re okay art? Be happy and stay hydrated BESTIE 🥰🥰🥰 i lovereeeeeee youuuuyy

- 🐽

I AM A WHAT AMONG ALL?!?!……… HDJSBDKSBDKWHDKABJDJSKF

i am very perplexed like what do i do with this information and what do you mean i am being perceived for real… but also i’m blushing giggling and kicking my feet 🫣🏃 lmaoooo i love you all so much THANK YOU. my works being something armys can bond over??? THAT’S CRAZY. (wait what goes on at twt i’m clueless and nosy i live in on my own lil bubble over there)

AND OFC I REMEMBER U >:( AND I’VE MISSED U SM!! but i’m happy you’ve been focusing on yourself and i hope you will stay healthy moving forward 🥺💕 hehe have fun with your break and with readingggg <3 i’d love to hear your thoughts again :") i truly missed you and i love you too!

#art’s post office ☁️#🐽 anon

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thisismorrigan · 5 months

Text

Some of my favorite Good Omens fanfictions from AO3 part 2!

All of these are COMPLETED works! The next list will all WIP! Just so y'all know!

But The Smoke Clears When You’re Around by midnightdragons (T)

I love me some touch starved Crowley! This fic is just sweet! I need a little fluff here and there!

Hot Days, Mad Blood by noodlefrog (T)

I was so invested this whole time! There’s pining while sword fighting!? Count me in! And when making this list I found out there are 3 more stories that follow this one?! The series is called Close Enough To Human and I haven’t read all of those ones yet but if they’re anything like this one I know they are going to be fantastic!

My Grave, My Wedding Bed by noodlefrog (E)

Do you want a masquerade ball full of pining? Well here you go! This is the second story in the Close Enough To Human series that noodlefrog did. This series is going to be the death of me I think. I love how detailed all of the stories in this series are so far. I really feel that when I read their stories I forget who I am and the only thing that exists is the story I’m reading.

The Close Enough To Human series by noodlefrog

I needed a paragraph for my thoughts so far. I haven’t finished them all yet but I’m halfway done with Gentle Night, Little Stars and I’m- this series is fantastic. I’m obsessed and I’m so grateful I stumbled upon your works noodlefrog. You should publish a book!

The Drive Home From Tadfield by Pokeykierra (E)

This work is based off of some fantastic comic by @vavoom-sorted-art and I love the fact that they incorporate the artwork into the fic itself. It’s what should have happened on their way home from Tadfield in search of the antichrist.

Mon Horrible Cheri by ghostrat (M)

This is a work of art! Crowley, the science teacher, and Aziraphale, the English teacher, absolutely hate each other. So obviously the week-long field trip they are chaperoning together is going to be awful. Right? Right…? This fic had me giggling and sighing at how cute it was! Did I stay up until 2am to finish it all in one sitting when I had to be up at 7am for work? Yes. Was it worth it? A thousand times yes!

Postcards From Paris by ghostrat (T)

I will never stop reading ghostrats works! They are such a fantastic writer, and this story is so good! I was giggling and kicking my feet! I could feel the emotions as if they were my own! This is a fluffy three chapter story about accidental penpals! I’m a sucker for good fluff!

#aziracrow fanfic recommendation #aziracrow #good omens #good omens fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfiction recommendation #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #anthony j crowley #fanfiction masterlist #master list #go2 #fanfic rec #ineffable divorce #ineffable fanfic

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solisaureus · 9 months

Note

you’re literally one of the goats of pjo tumblr and i have determined this from the simple fact that you were the only person i saw on this site that wasn’t hatefully obliterating everything about tsats when it first came out

This book was a sincere and loving work of art! Was it perfect? No! Did it have some cringe moments? Sure! But at its core it was a beautiful, touching homage to a beloved character that had such compassion for the young queer readers that have always held onto him. I adored it, I had so much fun reading it, I laughed, I cried, I giggled and kicked my feet at the cute parts. I felt SO seen. And I’m really sorry that so many other people didn’t seem to have such a great time with it but it sucks that they keep trying to ruin everyone else’s.

I have never understood the vitriolic hate for this book, I will never understand it, but it makes me really sad. There are people in the tsats tag these days saying that they finally read the book after hearing so much bad stuff about it but they can’t believe how much they loved it, and that is really fucking bleak to me. The overwhelming volume senseless hate genuinely did impact others’ decision to pick up a great book that they ended up loving. Anon you aren’t the first person to tell me that I’m the only/one of the few people on tumblr that wasn’t shitting on tsats right out of the gate, and while I guess I’m honored by the distinction it’s also such a tragedy.

It’s sad that the overwhelming majority of the hate I’ve seen for tsats boils down to shipping. Either people hate Will/Solangelo or they’re mad that it wasn’t about a different Nico ship. The degree of bad faith that “solangelo antis” went into this book with is utterly absurd and is present in every single hateful take about it. It’s disheartening to me that such a sincere book that provides a super positive example of a queer relationship — released during a time when homophobia is getting worse in the USA both on a social and political level — is torn down (largely by its own community) because of something as shallow as shipping preferences.

People got mad at me for bringing up homophobia but, I’m sorry, that’s what it looks like when the overwhelming response to a story about two boys in a loving relationship is blind rage and senseless hatred.

Anyway. This is a much longer response than you were probably expecting, and thank you for the kind words!! It’s just. It makes me grateful but also Really Really sad to be told I’m the only person on pjoblr not actively posting hate for this book.

#ask #anonymous #robin text

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delirious-donna · 24 days

Note

Hiya Donna, how are you ? As a long time admirer and new moot, I wanted to drop by and ask you where you get your inspiration from when you write ! Your prolific writing is impressive in and of itself but what's even better is that it's always exquisite so how do you do it ?

Aww Kai 🥹 I’m doing good, trying to not be deranged on main but I fear I’m failing miserably.

I’m so very British when it comes to praise, meaning I’m slightly allergic to it but I absolutely do appreciate it deep down. I just… yeah, it’s lovely to think people enjoy my nonsense but I’m never going to be someone that thinks they belong with the god tier writers.

Uhm… my inspiration comes in various ways. Sometimes certain art inspires it or conversations with friends about our mutual favourite characters or just thinking up little daydreams about them can do the trick. There are times I’ll think about what I wish might have happened with their character if I feel they were done dirty by the mangaka, this is especially true for Nanami, Higuruma and even Toji (I haven’t written a lot for him but I do have a wip which is kinda a redemption piece). Also Obito because that man deserved a shot at a second chance and I’ll always fight for that right!

Prolific writing seems too much but you’re very sweet to think that and I’m definitely blushing beet red and kicking my feet. I guess I just try to read a lot because language is something that can be improved by digesting a lot of other works. I certainly have my own style, though I would be extremely hard pressed to describe it, but my vocabulary can always be improved and hopefully that improves my writing in turn!!

It’s lovely to have a new moot and I hope you won’t be a stranger! I love that we both adore Commander Smith, it makes me giggle 🤭

#delirious answers #cutie mooties #did I ramble too much? I’m sorry…

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kheprriverse · 3 months

Note

You have to stop making such amazing art. Tumblr is so restricting I can’t possibly reblog it enough /lh But alas. Words also have meaning, right?

Be warned: I may not make any sense because I’m tired <3

Your art is literally so. Inspiring though. Your style is so beautiful and pretty and it’s just somehow— It makes me want to create? Honestly. I’d love to have a style like yours, but also I’m happy with mine! So instead, the inly valid thing to do is EAT YOUR ART AND REBLOG SO MANY TIMES!!! I’m keeping my own style, and building off it: While you and other artists do the same with what you do!

That being said. Your art just makes my day sometimes. Seeing you post gives me such joy and anytime I see the stupid silly (Cedar /Affec) it’s an instant giggling and kicking my feet like a feral child. So much stimming happens, and I literally love every design and thing you come up with. It’s just. Woah <3

My want to eat art is always at a 10/10: Let me consume the heckin heckles out of everything. Like. shredding the entire walls up. Such zoomies from art. Everything about your art most times just feels. Soft and cozy. Makes it feel like home sometimes and probably tastes like. Fluff. (That’s not a taste but whatever. It counts in my brain?) Maybe even like some sweet candy or dish, idek. Tastes aren’t tasting but damn art does arting?

Not only are you a cool and amazing talented artist, you’re also such a cool person beyond that and just so sweet I would just like to hug, yknow? Strangely I feel like I should be like. Somewhat intimidated because COOL PERSON ARTIST WOAH YOU INTERACT WITH ME??!? But also, I’m not… Really that intimidated? I don’t know, feel welcoming, just like the feeling yoir art brings and its just. Comforting?

You and your silly goody personality is so amazing and you’re so talented, I’m gonna flee now back into the ground: Hopefully this made somewhat sense— And that you have a lovely week/day/month— Just time in general!

*descends away*

~ Z

No I won't stop! Only pretty designs and silly guys ✨! (I am also very tired so its all okay. Also apologies if you wanted this answered privately.)

Also I'm gonna cry abkvjadbvjkkdvbad /pos This means so much! I'm very bad with explaining how I feel but I'm gonna try my bets lmao. It makes me so happy to hear that people really like my stuff, AND think I'm a cool person! I want my space to be kinda chill, friendly, etc and I'm very glad that so far I've been doing a pretty good job :'D

tysm again! I'm very glad u like my stuff (and think I'm cool). I woke up a few hours ago with a headache, dizziness, and was just generally feeling kinda bad and couldn't go back to sleep. But seeing this ask has so far made my day 100 times better! I hope the space I provide continues to bring joy (or just general silliness) to you and others <3

(also I'm glad you like my art too. Ive been having weird issues looking @ my own art since December, which I've never had before, so it makes me become a little silly whenever I get a comment on it. Really improves my motivation and lot and helps me continue what I love most: drawing funny guys and beasties :>)

#anon #z anon #kheprriask #tysm for like the millionth time #also maybe almost started crying this morning?? its good dw #just makes me rly happy to hear this <3

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luna-redamancy · 2 years

Note

Hi beautiful! I hope you like my commission:

Thorin's little daughter coloring or painting and adding sparkles and ribbons to the orcrist, in the end it kinda looks like cartoon kitty kissy face with ribbons hanging on the handle and her only explanation is: it looked boring before! Now it at least looks pretty.

Reader (thorin's wife, who's been with him since the quest) can't help but laugh and agree. Just family fluff moments :) - Irene <3

Ohmygoodness Irene, I loved writing this so much! I hope you love it as much as I do:

It was quiet, oddly quiet, you noted as you looked up from your papers, your eyes narrowing as you listened in for the sound of giggles or little feet running on the floor. It was just before high noon, and your daughter was nowhere to be found.

“Thorin,” You caught your husband’s attention, who looked up from his adjacent desk, looking at you with a concerned expression.

“What is it?”

“Where’s kurkarukê (my little raven)?” You stood from your desk, brows furrowing. It was too quiet. Normally she would have been running in and out, demanding to be in your lap, playing with your desk supplies, then running to Thorin and playing with his hair before then loudly exclaiming how hungry she was for the three of you to go enjoy lunch together.

“I haven’t seen her since this morning and she isn’t due for nap time until later this afternoon, after lunch,” You explained, rounding your desk. This was not like her. She was not a quiet child, no, she was loud and boisterous and craved excitement, much like her cousin, Kili.

“Didn’t Balin agree to look after her since we had our council meeting this morning?”

Pausing in your strides, you ran through your memory as you began to bite at your lip. “Yes, he did, but that was hours ago…”

“Surely he would have brought her back after they were done with their activities,” Thorin reassured, knowing how worried and protective you get over your little child.

“Right…” You mumbled, looking at the door with your furrowed expression remaining.

Chuckling amusedly to himself, Thorin shook his head. “Go check on her, you know you want to.”

“I think I will,” You agreed, walking to his desk to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Don’t work too hard while I’m gone,” You teased, a grin forming on your face as he leaned upwards to press a kiss to your own cheek.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” He grumbled, looking to the stack of letters he had yet to formally address.

Exiting the Royal Office, you headed straight to Balin’s office. Maybe he had her set up to do some arts and crafts while her father and yourself worked.

“Kurkarukê? Balin?” You called as you rapped your knuckles on the door, a grin growing on your face as you heard her begin to squeal with giggles.

“What’s going on, hm?” You spoke out loud as you entered the office. She was laying on her stomach by herself on the floor, Balin nowhere in sight as she poured what appeared to be “stardust” that you two bought in the market a few days ago.

“Make pretty!” She giggled with glee as her little legs kicked in the air, amusement clear in her voice as she sat up to grab bright pink and green ribbon.

“Oh?” You inquired, walking forward, expecting to see a piece of paper or maybe a wooden toy Bofur had crafted for her–

“Is that… Your father’s sword?” You did your best to keep your composure as you knelt beside her, watching as she began to wrap the handle in the green ribbon.

“Mhm!” She nodded, tongue sticking out as she carefully turned the sword to wrap underneath it. The blade’s shiny reflective surface was soon covered beneath wrappings of thick vibrant green. Only now did you notice the gold detailing on it.

“What’re you doing now?” You couldn’t help but ask, realizing she’s taking away room to pour more of her glitter.

“Gotta wrap it, amad (mother),” She said simply, not really paying you any mind. “Why do we have to wrap it?”

“So no ouchies,” She said in a tone that reflected how silly she thought your question was, almost as if the word “duh” was lingering on her tongue but out of respect she chose to not say it.

“Ah, silly me,” You pretended to smack your forehead as you sat down properly.

“And this?” You held up the roll of pink ribbon.

“Bows!” She cheered, gluing down the rest of the green ribbon so it would hold in place before launching into action.

She gripped the pink ribbon and carefully made little bows before taking her glue and gluing it onto the handle.

“What do you think about a big bow?” You encouraged with a grin on your face, causing her own lit up with the realization that she can make a giant bow to go on the tip of the sword.

“Help, amad?”

“Amad helps,” You agreed, grabbing a large section of the ribbon. “Where do you want it?”

“Here!” She grabbed the tip, and if it was not wrapped so meticulously in green ribbon, you would’ve panicked about her cutting herself.

“Alright,” You nodded, wrapping the ribbon around the tip of the sword to make a large extravagant bow.

“How’s that?”

“Pretty,” She cooed, eyes wide as she looked at your bows compared to hers.

“Can…Can we do ribbon on the handle, too?” She asked, holding out the green ribbon.

“Yeah? How would you want it on the ribbon, bunnanunê? (My tiny treasure)”

She got a serious look on her face and brought her hand up to her mouth, much like you’ve caught yourself doing when you’re thinking hard about something. A warm feeling swarmed your stomach as you realized she was picking up on your mannerisms.

“Like…Little tass..tas…”

“Tassels?” You threw out the word, brows furrowing as you tried to figure out what word she was attempting to say.

“Yeah!” She screeched in happiness, nearly falling back when you got what she meant, making a smile bloom on your face.

“Tassles it is!”

The next five minutes were spent decorating the Orcrist, her little giggles making there way to Thorin as he exited the office, concerned when you didn’t come back.

“(Y/n)?” He called out, making his way to Balin’s door.

“Thorin,” Balin greeted in the hallway, holding a tray of tea and cookies.

“Is (D/N) in your office?” Thorin tilted his head, but his question actually answered itself when he heard her fall into a fit of laughs again.

“I think I hear your adad (father),” You whispered, getting up off the ground. “Come… Let’s show him your hard work.”

“Yes!” She pushed herself up to stand and began to drag the sword.

Thorin furrowed his brow, looking between the door and Balin.

“What is that sound-”

The office door flung open just as your daughter was able to hold the sword upright. What was once a terrifying weapon crafted by fine Elvish blacksmiths, was now decorated in vibrant purple paint, glitter, ribbon and so…Many…Bows.

Opening and shutting his mouth repeatedly, Thorin looked between your daughter and you, confusion in his expression. You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your mouth, immediately bringing your hand under your nose to hide your grin as you pretended to cough.

“What’s…” He cleared his throat, “What is all of this?”

“Your sword was so boring, adad,” (D/N) groaned but grinned soon after, smile blinding as she held up her masterpiece. “But now…It’s acceptable.”

“Acceptable for what?”

“Play-time…Obviously.” The sass she held back for you was no longer hidden as she engaged with her father.

“Do you like it?” Her eyes went big as she gauged her father’s reaction, and you couldn’t help but give Thorin the stare. ‘You better tell this child how fabulous her art is,’ is what your expression said as Thorin gave a pained smile.

“It’s beautiful, Khajimel (gift of all gifts).”

“Yay!” She cheered, swinging the sword around. “Amad helped!” She hugged onto your legs as Thorin raised a brow at you.

“Did she now?” Gulping at his reply, you couldn’t help but nod.

“She needed help with her big bow and tassels, as a mother, it’s obvious that my duty was to help her maximize her crafting potential,” You defended, demeanor calm as you petted (D/N)’s hair.

“Maximize the potential” She echoed your sentiment, lip movements exaggerated as she swiveled her head, making you burst into laughter.

“Maximize indeed,” Thorin murmured fondly as Balin chuckled.

“After all that crafting, I think surely you need a snack little one?”

“Yes, please!” She grinned at Balin, sword forgotten on the ground as she bounded off with him to his desk to eat the cookies he brought.

“Maximize her crafting potential?” Thorin quirked his brow at you as he chuckled under his breath, bringing you into a hug.

“Absolutely,” You mumbled as he pressed your foreheads together.

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