#white matte vase | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

a-leg-without-fear · 1 month

Text

No Fucking Way (pt.1)

have some absolutely adorable interactions with you and the students at the mansion (and a surprise guest)

Ship: Logan Howlett x Mutant!Fem!Reader 🩸

Rating: 13+

Wordcount: 4.1k

Warnings: cursing, mentions of animals neglecting their babies, and a story so sweet my teeth hurt

Inspiration: This scene from X2: X-Men United

Series: No Fucking Way

Your feet pounded against the gravel path beneath you. Small rocks and dirt were kicked up by your well-worn sneakers. Warm sweat dampened the cloth of your sweatshirt around your arms and chest. The sun beat down on your flushed face as a cold breeze bit across your nose.

It was an absolutely gorgeous, autumn day. Occasional spotted clouds glided at a snail’s pace across a great blue sky. Soft breezes made the great trees surrounding the mansion dance like sheets of amber linen. Red and orange leaves skittered across the yellowing grass fields.

You saw a handful of students out on the lawn enjoying the early morning air. Sybil, a brunette with the ability to see through others’ eyes, sat beneath a large willow by the fish pond with a notepad in her hands. Vienna sat beside her. A strawberry blonde, bright eyed girl who could channel electricity into the palms of her hands. The two exchanged ideas about whatever Sybil was jotting down in her notepad.

Yuna sat not too far from the whispering pair, fingers twirling above a quickly constructed tower of stones and blades of grass. Her usual deep brown eyes now glowed a subtle violet. The maroon hijab she wore wrapped around her neck matched the crimson hues of the changing leaves in the trees around her.

Jane, a kind-eyed tracker, Matt, a red glasses-wearing fighter, and Mads, a short-haired plant bender, sat in a circle, enjoying their morning coffee and tea together. You gave Mads a quick wave as you jogged past, receiving a warm smile and a shower of flower petals left in your wake.

The gravel path led along the left side of the mansion. Emerald ivy crawled up the brick walls like arms reaching from the earth. An occasional window broke up the light colored bricks. Most had their curtains drawn, which you attributed to a large portion of the students being late risers. One or two had the curtains open to allow fresh sunlight into the shared rooms.

You caught a glimpse of Sapph through one of the windows. Her bright smile and blue eyes were almost radiant as she basked in the streams of sunlight. Vases of sunflowers sat on the windowsill in front of her. The light seemed to bend, refracting from Sapph’s palms and hitting the sunflowers’ leaves.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The students were happy, the day was beautiful, and you only had one more lap of the mansion to jog before you’d call it a day.

“MAAAOOOWWW!”

You stopped just short of the empty basketball court. The crimson asphalt was covered in crunchy leaves and green brush from the nearby bushes. Corded nets hanging from the steel hoops swayed in the breeze. You looked around you, trying to find the source of the noise.

“MaaooOOW?”

There it was again. Closer than before. It sounded like it came from an incredibly small source, whatever it was. Your sneakers crossed onto the asphalt, toes kicking at leaves and twigs. You let your eyes scan the area around you. The court was surrounded by a wall of hedges. About waist high to you, it helped keep the court clear of too much debris from the trees.

The mansion sat against the hedges. Large, bay windows looked into a sitting area. Hira, a telepath, sat in one of the plush leather armchairs with a novel in her hands. A white hijab wrapped around her head, glasses peeking out over light brown eyes. Daniel, a light-haired strongman, and Jacob, a bearded speedster, sat on the green-clothed couch across from Hira. Dice and rulebooks laid on the coffee table in front of them.

A rustle in the hedges to your left drew your focus from the students inside. The lowest branches shuddered, small green leaves shaken off and falling to the ground below. You knelt on the asphalt and strained your eyes to see through the dense foliage.

“MoowwWOAAOW!”

That was the only warning you got before a tiny gray and white fur ball burst out of the hedge and landed five feet in front of you. Pointed ears folded back, blue eyes widened, arched back covered in long fuzz.

A kitten. A small, angry, fluffy kitten. No more than a few weeks old.

You remained where you kneeled on the asphalt, palms upturned and resting on your thighs. You kept a neutral expression on your face as you blinked slowly at the small creature.

After a few moments the kitten relaxed. Its ears faced forward, tail sticking straight up as it approached you. You gingerly extended a hand for it to sniff. Its tiny, pink nose ran across the tips of your fingers as it grew acclimated to your presence.

“Hi, little one,” you said through a barely subdued, ecstatic grin. You had always wanted a cat. Ever since you were a kid, you dreamed of a tiny ball of purrs curled up in your lap and effortlessly improving your mood. Not to mention they were ridiculously easy to take care of.

The kitten took a few more moments to sniff at your fingers. Its tiny eyes squinted as it seemed to devote its entire being to assessing your threat level. Once it seemed satisfied, it rubbed its chin across your thumb. You could already feel the purrs rumbling in its throat.

It took everything in you to not explode from the cuteness overload. This little thing, this tiny itty bitty little thing, chose you. You could feel a swell of pure adoration overtake your chest, the gentle warmth spreading from head to toe.

The cat continued to rub on your hand, occasionally nibbling on your fingers with the sides of its mouth. You lifted your free hand in an attempt to pet the kitten. Moving slowly to not startle it, you gently ran your fingers across its fluffy back. An explosion of purrs, like a hive of angry bees, met your affection. The cat dug its little head into the palm of your hand. You took the hint, giving it gentle scratches on the soft spots by its ears.

“You are the cutest fucking thing I’ve seen in my life,” you breathed in astonishment. The cat seemed to enjoy the compliment, pawing at your hands and attempting to climb closer to your face. You scooped its tiny body in your hands and lifted it to your chest.

Tiny paws kneaded at the fabric of your sweatshirt. Little needle-like claws pulled at the threads. The kitten looked up at you with squinted eyes. You carefully rose to your feet, doing your best to not jostle the miniature creature cradled to your chest.

The cat nestled into the crook of your neck. Its tiny nose puffed against your skin while a category-5 purricane buzzed in your hands.

You would die for this cat and you just met it a minute ago.

Mentally saying “fuck it” to the rest of your jog, you began to gingerly walk back inside. You avoided walking on the gravel to make as little noise and sudden movements as possible. The cat seemed to appreciate the gesture, with what miniscule amount its tiny brain could comprehend, as a small lick from its rough tongue passed over your neck.

You garnered a few sideways looks from the students on the lawn as you walked by again. Mads cocked her head, fairy themed earrings jingling, at the gentleness in your step and the backtracking in your path.

“You alright, ma’am?” she called out. Jane and Matt perked up at Mads’s exclamation. Jane looked up at you with curiosity written in her features while Matt’s dark brows furrowed.

A quick gesture to the buzzing fur ball in your hands was all the trio needed. Their expressions quickly shifted from confusion to utter joy. They whispered among themselves about the newest addition to the mansion as you passed by.

That method is how you seamlessly moved through the bustling early-risers inside the foyer. One perplexed look was met with a nod to the kitten in your hands and the students parted like the Red Sea. Excited murmurs spread through the students like wildfire. “Is that a cat?” “Oh my god, kitty!” “It’s so cute!” “I hope we can keep it!”

The last student you passed before reaching your destination was Bella, a time manipulator. She was just on her way out of the professor’s study, closing the heavy oak door behind her. A kind smile met yours when she looked in your direction.

“Morning, ma’am. Need to see the- Wait, is that a cat?” she asked, eyes widening.

“Shhh. Yes, it is. Could you open the door for me?” you whispered. Bella lifted her first finger to her mouth, winking to indicate she understood, then twisted the brass knob and swung the door open before you.

“Good luck,” she whisper-yelled after you.

A grand office stood before you. Comfortable leather settees were positioned in front of a solid, mahogany desk. Rows and rows of bookshelves filled to the brim lined the walls. Trinkets and remembrances decorated available surfaces and empty wall space.

The professor, or Charles Xavier as you knew him, sat in his motorized wheelchair behind the large desk. His hairless head was lowered, blue eyes darting across the pages of a copy of House of Leaves. A single finger raised next to his aged face to acknowledge your presence.

“One moment, please. From both you and your new friend,” he said. A minute passed, seconds counted by the paws kneading into your shoulder, before Charles closed the book and met your gaze. A warm smile matched your enthusiastic one, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I found this little guy outside,” you began. The cat perked up at the mention of itself, eyes blinking up at you then looking at the professor. You ran a finger under the kitten’s chin as you continued, “He was an angry little fella, all bushy tailed, but he warmed right up to me. He was hiding in the hedges by the basketball court.”

“Ah, I see,” Charles replied. He lowered a hand to maneuver his wheelchair. The low buzz of the machinery heralded his movement as he rounded the desk to sit in front of you and the cat.

“I didn’t see any other cats around, but the good news is he seems to be old enough for solid food,” you said. The cat blinked slowly at the professor, its little nose sniffing the air in front of it.

“It seems his mother abandoned him. Weaned him off her too quickly and left him stunted. Poor thing,” Charles said, head tilting and lips pulling into a slight frown. You gawked at him.

“You can read the cat’s mind, too?” you asked. The abilities of the mutants around you never ceased to amaze. Especially one as powerful as Charles Xavier.

He smiled at the kitten, oblivious to your gawking, stretching out his hands to you, “May I?”

You gently lifted the cat off your chest, prying the tiny talons from your sweatshirt, and placed the furball in the professor’s hands. Charles lifted the cat to his chest and ran a gentle hand down its back.

“You’ll need to wake Rogue and Bobby, have them run to the pet store down the road. This one will need plenty of love and nourishment if he’s to thrive,” he said. You stared at him, dumbstruck.

“We can keep him?”

“He can stay, as long as he likes. Much is the same with the rest of those who live here,” Charles clarified. The little gray kitten nuzzled against Charles’s chin, the professor’s smile growing.

“Okay. Okay! Yes! I’ll go get Rogue and Bobby,” you said, absolute jubilation filling your lungs.

You left Charles and the cat to continue their telepathic conversation as you raced up the giant, double staircase. Ornately carved wooden banisters ran along the edges of the stairs, polish shining in yellow circles from the chandeliers hanging on the ceiling. When the stairs divided into two sets, running opposite directions, you cut to the right. Your feet skipped over carpeted steps in your haste to reach your destination.

Once your sneakers landed on the second floor, you broke into a jog down the hallway. Door after wooden door flew by you on both sides of the hall. Paintings of peaceful landscapes and glowing sconces lined the wooden walls. A large window sat in the white wall at the end of the hall. Daylight streamed in and cast golden spots on the wood floors.

You stopped at the last door on the left. Rapping three quick knocks on the door, you bounced on your toes. There was a cat in the mansion. A cat! One that would live with you! You silently thanked whatever god it was that decided for you to be next in the cat distribution system.

It took another set of knocks on the door for you to hear movement on the other side. Bleary groans and rustling sheets leaked through the cracks in the door. You bit your lip in an attempt to quell your excitement.

The doorknob turned and a ruffled-looking Rogue appeared in the doorway. Dark hair just barely smoothed down, eyes squinted, robe hastily thrown over a nightgown.

“Vampire? Shit, what time is it?” she asked, grogginess laced in her tone.

“Doesn’t matter. We have a cat,” you said. Your smile widened as you waited for her response. Rogue eyed you, up and down, as she assessed her living alarm clock.

“Logan’s not a cat. We’ve been over this,” she said. She exhaled a puff of air through her lips to blow at the white bangs that fell over her eyes. You rolled your eyes playfully at the jab.

“Not Logan this time. An actual cat. A kitten,” you explained. Rogue’s eyebrows rose as her eyes widened.

“Wait, there’s a cat?” Bobby called from beyond the door. His blonde head popped up beside Rogue’s. The couple seemed to be much more awake now.

“Yup,” you said, annunciating the p. Bobby and Rogue looked at each other, smiles growing, before looking back to you.

“Where is it? Can we see it?” Rogue asked.

“Charles needs the two of you to run and get cat stuff first. Like food, litter, toys. Anything you can think of,” you replied. At the first sign of them objecting, you continued, “You guys can get literally anything you want. Treats, cat towers, little obstacle courses. Just make sure it’s safe for a younger kitten.”

“We’re on it, boss!” Bobby said, happiness palpable and blue eyes sparkling, as his hand clapped on Rogue’s clothed shoulder.

“100%. This cat will be spoiled rotten,” Rogue confirmed. With that situation squared away, you gave the pair a quick nod, beaming at them, then took off back down the hallway.

The run back to the professor’s office was an even shorter journey due to you jumping down several steps at a time. A few students looked gravely concerned at your acrobatics. Especially Ash, who helped Jean with patching students up by being a walking pain-reliever.

Your hand caught on the doorframe of Charles’s office and you swung into the doorway, breathless. He and the cat were much like how you had left them. Tiny gray body tucked against his neck, both having their eyes closed.

“Bobby and Rogue are on their way out,” you said. Charles hummed in response, eyes falling open.

“This one’s taken a shine to you, my dear. Says you’re the first to treat him kindly,” he said, a proud smile painted across his face. You let out an incredulous laugh.

“Guess he really is one of us, huh?”

“More than you know,” Charles said through an amused chuckle. You approached the professor and ball of cuddles carefully, attempting to not disturb the little creature.

“Mrrpp?” the cat trilled. It squinted at you from beneath Charles’s chin, paws kneading into the back of the professor’s hands. You could almost hear its purrs from where you stood.

“Does he have a name?” you asked. You scratched beneath its furry chin as the cat stretched out its jaw into your hand.

“I was hoping you might know one,” Charles said. He pressed the cat into your hands and you gladly scooped the little ball of love into your arms. You could feel the purrs emanating from the cat’s belly vibrate against your chest. Tiny, thin whiskers tickled along the underside of your jaw.

“Jeez, uh. I don’t know. Let me think on it,” you responded. It was hard to think when all of your focus was drawn to the fluffy creature cradled in your hands. Charles chuckled at your indecision.

“I’m sure whatever you choose, our newest student will happily respond to it,” he assured. He used his now free hands to dust cat hair off his crisp, navy blue suit. As you turned to walk out, Charles said, “Make sure to give him a bath. This young one’s lived outside for far too long.”

“Will do,” you said. You shifted your arms so you could better support the cat on your chest, then set a course for the upstairs bathroom closest to your and Logan’s room.

It seemed the news of a cat on campus had spread throughout the student body. A large crowd had gathered outside of Charles’s study. Students, an array of ages and stages of dress, craned their necks over their peers to try and catch a glimpse.

“I wanna see!” Addie, a platinum blonde seven-year-old who could speak any language, called up from the space next to your hip. Your legs were framed by her and Ryan, a nine-year-old brunet with impenetrable skin.

“Guys, the cat is very small. He needs quiet!” you said, voice coming out as a stage whisper. A hush fell over the group in front of you. Wide, hopeful eyes blinked up at you. You sighed, untucking the cat from the crook of your neck and holding him in front of you. At the sight of the small bundle of fur in your hands, a buzz of excited whispers passed from ear to ear.

“Does he have a name?” Ryan asked. An echo of agreement sounded around the crowd.

“Not yet, so everyone start brainstorming!” you said. A renewed vigor filled the conversation as names were debated back and forth between students. You used the distraction to slip away, climbing back up the stairs and baring left this time.

This hallway was nearly identical to the one on the opposite side of the stairs. Wooden paneling covered the walls, patterned red carpet stretched down the middle of the floor, potted plants sat here and there. You knocked once on the first door to the right. Receiving no answer, you pushed it open.

Inside was a full bathroom. White tiles lined the walls and floor, the grout a cool gray. Warm patterned shower curtains hung from a steel rod suspended between two walls. A vanity mirror hung on the wall opposite the door. You flicked on the light switch, making the three globes above the mirror glow and send dancing reflections throughout the bathroom.

“Alright, fella. Let’s get you clean,” you said as you sat the cat in the sink. His little, furry body looked like a small sponge sitting in the white porcelain. A confused face looked up at you through squinted eyes.

“Mraow?”

“Yeah, I know. You’re not gonna like this part,” you responded. You leaned over, opening the white cabinets below the sink, and pulled out the unscented shampoo Logan liked to use. Straightening up, you noticed the cat had remained where you sat it. Prim, proper, posture like a little gentleman.

You smirked, scritching the top of his head between his ears. His face tilted up into your touch.

“Such a sweet little guy,” you cooed. You gave him a few more well deserved pets before scooping his little body and turning on the faucet. You made sure the handle was turned to a warm, not hot, setting and the pressure was nice and low.

The cat startled a bit in your palm at the sudden rush of water. A little paw raised, batting in the air between him and the running water. You dipped a finger in the water and brought it to his nose for proper inspection. A few sniffs, a couple licks, then his chin was rubbing on your fingertip again.

You took it as a good sign, dipping the same hand back under the faucet and letting the water coat your skin. Once enough water had gathered in your hand you lifted it to the cat’s back. He tracked your movement. Small, squinted eyes followed your hand as you placed your palm on his back. You felt the water droplets sink into the fluffy, gray fur and soak into his skin.

“This ok?” you asked, like the cat could give you an answer. The small creature blinked up at you. He seemed unbothered by the moisture. You gave him another palm-full of water to get him adjusted to the temperature, the sensation. Not a peep from this little sir.

You set the cat back in the sink, just the tail end of his back beneath the running faucet. He hunkered down into the smallest loaf you’d ever seen. Front feet tucked under his fuzzy chest, tail curled around his side, eyes blinking slowly up at you. You cupped water in your palm and let it run through his fur. Before too long you had a drenched, buzzing kitten in the sink.

“You are the strangest creature…” you wondered aloud. You popped the lid open on Logan’s shampoo and lathered up your hands. Thankfully, you didn’t spot any fleas or other parasites hopping on the kitten’s body. Washing out the dirt and grime shouldn’t take too long.

“Why are you hunched over the sink with my soap?” a gruff voice said from behind you. You smiled, looking over your shoulder.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” you greeted. Logan leaned against the doorframe with his arms folded across his chest. He wore his trademarked white tank top and loose jeans buckled with a brown belt. His dark hair was fluffy and unstyled, long strands hanging in front of his wrinkled eyebrows.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he said. He pushed off the wall and stepped up next to you, his boots clipping on the tiles.

“Right. So, funny story,” you began. You ran your soapy fingers through the cat’s soaked fur. Logan’s hip leaned on the counter as he continued to stare at you. Jutting your chin down at the sudsy feline, you continued, “I found this guy outside and he made me think of you.”

“Made you think of…” Logan trailed off when his hazel eyes landed on the kitten.

“You know, with his cat ears,” you explained. You scrubbed at the kitten’s purring body while Logan spluttered next to you.

“Cat ears?!”

“Yeah. Those hair floofs you get when you style your hair. They look like cat ears,” you said. You pretended to ignore the pure indignation spouting from the man next to you. A knowing smirk stretched across your lips.

“I do not have cat ears,” Logan argued.

“Yes you do!” Rogue shouted, voice echoing down the hall.

Your indifferent mask broke as you doubled over, cackling. The cat’s head tilted as it watched your face disappear below the counter. Logan huffed, arms folding over his chest again.

It took you a few moments to regain your composure. Giggles bubbled up your throat everytime you glanced back at Logan next to you. He rolled his eyes at you.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” he grumbled. But, because you knew him so well, you could see the smile tugging at the edge of his lips.

You cleared your throat, squaring your shoulders to rinse off the cat sitting patiently in the sink. Warm water trailed through your fingers and washed away the suds gathered on the kitten’s body. Squinted eyes watched you, blinking slowly and serenely, purrs vibrating against your hands.

“Happy little fuzzball, isn’t he?” Logan said. The kitten turned its head to peer at Logan. You ran a wet finger between its ears, smoothing the fur back and washing soap away.

“He certainly is,” you hummed. When an idea popped in your head, you felt your grin widen and your gaze slip over to Logan next to you, “You know, he still needs a name.”

“So name him,” Logan replied instantly. A tentative, large hand reached into the sink and ran two fingers down the cat’s soaked back. The kind and delicate gesture only further solidified your idea.

“Actually… I was hoping you could name him.”

Logan’s eyes snapped up to meet yours, relaxed expression melting into pure confusion.

“What?” he asked.

this short story is kind of a tribute to the lovely, lovely folks in the murdock tuna team. i have nothing but love and an endless stream of thanks to give to them. you all have inspired me to be a better artist, a better author, a better person. love you, blob blob 🐟

#logan howlett #wolverine #hugh jackman #xmen #logan howlett fanfic #wolverine fanfic #hugh jackman fanfic #xmen fanfic #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #this is so fucking CUTE #like i know i wrote it but i caN'T HANDLE IT #murdock tuna team

602 notes · View notes

gilverrwrites · 3 months

Text

Meet Cute Uglies [Bruce]

AN: Shout out to @luckyarchaeologist whose comments inspired me to go a completely different direction to what I had envisioned.🩷 And everyone else who reblogged/comments/voted for a part 2! I hope it lives up 🩷

GN!Reader/Bruce Wayne, 1.6K Words [2/?]

Part One >[Here]<

CWs: Mild/nonexplicit threats of violence, teasing

His hands are soft, and warm, soothing the tension from your body as he uses them to cup your face and hold you steady as he pushes closer, pressing your body deeper into the wall with his broad chest. Up close you can see a smattering of his five o’clock stubble coming through, even under the dim slivers of moonlight breaking through the gloomy alley. You note a hint of coffee on his breath before his lips brush against-

Loud banging at your apartment door startles you awake. Tired eyes sluggishly take in the time on the nearest clock, you’re barely able to process the numbers before the knocks come again. It’s too early. It’s your day of for goodness’ sake and it sounds like someone is trying to break down your door with their fists. When you answer it’s an equally disgruntled delivery driver. They ask your name before bombarding you with a large box and snapping a proof of delivery photo. You ponder your unkempt morning appearance and pray the sender of this parcel doesn’t ever check that photo.

It was almost certainly not from you because you hadn’t ordered anything, especially not anything this big. You don’t recognise the logo, but it, the matte black tape, and the distinct florally smell permeating from the smooth white container tells you that whatever is inside is expensive. That or it’s a trap, designed to lure you in with its unsuspecting exterior, then BAM Ivy toxin or Joker gas. You’re not dumb, you’ve seen the PSAs.

30 minutes, one morning brew, one disposable mask, one sharp knife, 2 gloves, and a whole lot of nerve later you gently remove the contents from its packaging. It’s wrapped in a layer of security card and glittery tissue paper but it’s pretty evident what it is. It’s a very nice bouquet of flowers. A mix of carnations, hyacinths, and baby’s-breath, already sitting in a pretty crystal vase that probably cost more than your rent. A gold envelope stands out amongst the colourful petals, and you fork it out to read despite being certain you already know who it's from. Nobody else in your life would spend this much money on flowers for you, even if it were a special occasion. The repercussions of telling your name to a stranger, even a famous stranger, who you’d known of all your life, but never known hadn’t occurred to you until you see it printed in foil against the high-quality textured card.

“As you understandably didn’t allow me the chance to apologise last night, please accept these as a token of my penitence. Regards, B.W.”

You’re not sure which irks you most, him cornering you in a dark alley in the first place, his seeking you out to apologise in an unsettlingly short amount of time, the absurd display of wealth, his pretentiously unironic use of the word ‘Penitence’, or the fact that you kinda liked it. The fact that you’d spend the night dreaming about slivers of moonlight and soft hands that didn’t exist. In actual fact, the remainder of the scene had been clumsy and anticlimactic.

“Who are you?” He demands. “And why are you following me?” You squint to read his expressions, barely able to make him out under the faint light of apartment windows high above your figures. There's a disconnect between the upper and lower halves of his face that adds to your already heightened nerves. His jaw and lips remain in an ever-present scowl, but steely blue eyes seem to soften as you tell him your name. “I'm not following you.” Your voice is stunted, weak due to the unrelenting pressure actual billionaire Bruce Wayne is applying to it. “I swear! It’s a coincidence.” He seems to believe you, or at least, he doesn’t consider you much of a threat because his grip loosens enough for you to find your footing again. Before he can change his mind, you scramble out of there, almost tripping on your accidentally discarded bag on the way. Whatever is up with him is not your problem. “I-“ “Save it.” Creep. You’re not interested in his apologies or excuses. You’re just an average person trying to make their way in the crime capital of the world, probably. It’s a miracle he didn’t put you in an early grave due to a heart attack. You could see the headlines now: ‘Playboy Billionaire Charged with Manslaughter: Officials unsure why he corned innocent Gothamite’ which is to presume a man with as much wealth as Bruce Wayne would ever be charged with a crime. Rich, ill-mannered, paranoid, handsome, creep. “Just stay away from me.”

As you stand motionless, relaying the events of the previous night in your head, it occurs to you that there's still something in the envelope, something slightly smaller and thicker than the apology card. You slip it out and flip it between your fingers, a gift card to the coffee shop you’d first seen him in, with a pre-paid value high enough to keep you and all your colleagues caffeinated for the rest of the year, if not longer.

The remainder of your day is spent relocating the two gifts between errands and relaxation time. The gift card is inserted and removed from the card section of your wallet so many times you’ve probably incidentally rubbed off its magnetic strip. Accepting it, and using it wasn’t bad, not really. He wasn’t buying you or your forgiveness it's just a show good intent, not to mention it was basically pocket change to a man with that much money.

But it did feel a little bit like being bought.

And the flowers reminded you of that conflict every time you looked at them, so they made their way onto every feasible surface and counter until you found a spot with enough light to keep them alive that wasn’t in plain sight 90% of the time. Maybe you could sell or donate the vase once the flowers are dead. It really did make the rest of your living space look shabby-er in comparison. Or maybe you could paint it to match the rest of its new home, cover it in acrylic paint and use it to hold anything else. If you ever see Bruce again you could show him a photo, see if he really did give it in good faith to be used however you pleased, or if it makes him uncomfortable.

In fact, on your next day back at work you’re scrolling through Pinterest for design inspiration as you queue up for the first of many Wayne-funded drinks when you sense it. Him. The enticing scent of his cologne clueing you into his presence. You cast a look over your shoulder and there he is, smiling at you with perfect white teeth. He seems more casual today, his hair still perfectly styled but appearing free of any products, his suit traded in for just the slacks and button-up. Once again, you’re reminded of his player image, it’s not hard to tell why so many people swoon all over him.

“Oh, hello.” He greets, raising his hand as though to wave at you. His fingers don’t look nearly as soft as you’d imagined. They look sturdy and calloused, strange for a man who guzzles champagne and stands behind a podium, smiling for photographers more days than not. Paperwork does not account for skin that thick. “I was hoping to run into you here.”

“Really?” Internally you’re suspicious, but your voice comes out an octave higher than usual, your skin growing warm under his gaze. It’s stupid to think that he’s pursuing you, flirting with you. He’s probably just looking for closure on his apology, ensuring you don’t slander his image by selling the story to the papers. He really is buying you. Your silence. “Why?”

“I was hoping I could buy you a drink.” And without your confirmation he sides steps around you, joining you in your spot amongst everybody else waiting to be served.

“You’re already buying me coffee.” You flash him the gift card he’d paid for. “Or did you forget casually dropping this much cash?”

He laughs at that, like you’ve made a joke. He’s deflecting? Maybe. But he sounds so genuine, so hearty it’s contagious. Your laugh isn’t as cheery as his, but it slips past your lips regardless.

“No, no. I didn’t forget. I couldn’t forget anything about you. Especially not after seeing you in that delivery photo.” He finishes with a wink. That was flirting, definitely flirting. Or maybe an insult. Either way, you’re feeling just as nervous, if not more than you had been that night in the alley. This is just a different kind of nerves, it’s the butterflies in your belly instead of the pit in your stomach kind. “What’s one more between new friends, huh?”

“Friends?” You raise your brows. He does not have the decency to look sheepish under your dubious stare, he just looks back at you calm and collected, just like he is on the TV. A few days ago, you might have bought it, but you’ve seen him lose his cool in person. Something feels off.

“I’d like to be friends, or I’d at least like to apologise in person. If you’ll let me.” For a man so bent on making amends with you, there isn’t a hint of sorrow in his tone or posture.

It’s almost your turn at the counter, you have seconds to make your decision.

The barista gestures for the next customer, as you answer. “Okay fine, let’s be friends.”

“Excellent. You just made my day.” And then his hand cups the small of your back as the two of you step up to order. He does it so casually that you almost don’t notice, you’re not sure if you’re just susceptible to his moves, or if he’s practised them to perfection. Maybe you’re reading too much into it, maybe all pretty boy billionaires act like this, maybe it’s all strategy to keep his image clean, or maybe there’s something shady about Bruce Wayne and his weirdly hard, slick hands. Maybe he's hiding something, and whatever it is, you intend to figure it out.

If you should enjoy the view along the way, well, who could blame you?

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne #bruce wayne/reader #batman #batman x reader #batman/reader #gilverrwrites #dc #x reader #reader insert #gn reader

346 notes · View notes

fairyrcts · 6 days

Text

r u mine ? , m.s.

by fairyrcts contents - smut , praising , unprotected sex (not recommended) , 3rd person , intended lowercase , cursing , pet names , car sex , semi-public sex (?) , use of y/n , more ¿

there weren't any words to describe what y/n felt currently. at the moment, she was getting dressed to see her friend/situationship or whatever the hell he was.

he'd only texted her half an hour ago to get ready and to look nice. she had no idea what he had in store for her.

matt and y/n had met at a party around 3 months ago. to say he was amazing was an understatement. but no matter how much he acted like it, he wasn't her boyfriend.

he'd bring her lunch every day at work, check up on her constantly, compliment her, call her cute names that only belonged to her, buy her things 'just because', but putting a lable on it? no, not happening.

y/n never wanted to upset him by bringing up the fact that she wanted commitment, because she had a good thing going for her. so now, he was clearly taking her somewhere special.

usually, their dates were simple like to a coffee shop or a record store, but now he's telling her to get ready and to look fancy.

was he gonna finally ask? no, she didn't wanna get her hopes up.

she was shooken out of her thoughts by the doorbell ringing. y/n walked down the stairs of her home, her black silk dress going up her thigh just slightly.

she opened the door to matt holding a bouquet of red and white roses tied up in a black bow. her smile went from ear to ear as she saw the sight in front of her.

"well, don't you look gorgeous. here, sweetheart. put em' somewhere nice." matthew handed her the bouquet with a smirk playing on his lips.

"you seriously didn't have to get me these, y'know." she giggled, placing them in the vase just beside the front door.

"of course i did. now, c'mon. we can't be late." his voice was low as he grabbed her hand and walked her to his car, opening the passenger door for her.

after getting in himself, he turned the radio up slightly so it'd play faintly behind their conversation.

"so, what's surprise you've got planned, hm?" y/n hummed, the beach by the neighborhood playing quietly under her words.

"if i told you, it wouldn't be much of a surprise, now would it?" he obviously had a point, but the nosiness couldn't help but get the best of y/n.

"okay, but i wanna know. please?"

matt simply shook his head 'no' as his fingers tapped on the steering wheel.

"pleasee, matt. y'know i hate surprises." y/n's whiney voice only made matt harder than it was when he saw her open that door.

"you're gonna have to beg better than that if you really wanna know, darling." he turned his head to flash her a smile, only making her groan.

of course she acted annoyed, but she was more wet then ever. she squeezed her thighs together to at least make an attempt for her to stop thinking about it.

"please, matt. c'mon, it's not fair. please? i'll be good the rest of the ride."

rest of the ride? matt was damn ready to pull over and fuck her right then and there.

"keep talking like that and there might not be a 'rest of the ride'." he warned. although he didn't even try, his voice just caused a pool in her panties. but then again, anything matt did had that affect on her.

just for shits and giggles, y/n decided to keep it going by teasing him just a bit more.

"oh yeah? and what's that supposed to mean, hmm?" she moved her body so she was leaning on the middle console.

her boobs were basically in his face. he let out a shaky breath, his dick growing by the second.

his eyes wandered her body, fighting to keep his sight on the road.

as he saw the glow of a gas station sign and made the choice to pull over.

he parked his car in a spot around the back, immediately turning his head towards her.

"the fuck made you think you can talk like that? backseat, now." his tone was demanding while the soft sound of arctic monkeys filled the car.

her eyes, filled with lust, narrowed at him before making her way to the back.

matt did the same, only getting out to do so. his hands made it's way to her neck as he began kissing her aggressively.

his movements were harsh, his tongue swirling around in her mouth while she moaned against his mouth.

he took the hand off her throat and started unbuckling his pants. y/n pulled away to assist him.

she pulled his black pants down to his ankles, leaving him in his boxers while he unbuttoned his shirt. y/n took off her dress, leaving her in her black lace bra and panties.

matt's dick got hard at the girl in front of him. he started palming himself through his boxers while he mumbled compliments to her.

y/n pulled off his boxers, his cock standing up. her eyes widened as she let out a gasp.

"fuck, c'mere." matt's voice was hurried while he took off her lingerie.

the car floor was now covered in discarded clothes.

y/n moved herself on top of his dick, already lubricated in his pre-cum. matt pushed her hips down on top of him, the two moaning loudly.

he began leaving messy hickeys on her neck while moving her body up and down on his dick.

he muttered small things in her ear, making her moans gradually get louder.

"yeah, nobody fucks you like this but me, ain't that right?" he spoke as his dick unintentionally hitting her g-spot consistently.

"mm f-fuck! only you, m-matt!" y/n moans were music to matt's ears.

he kept pounding his dick inside of the girl riding him. he could feel himself getting close.

"fuck, oh yeah. who's are ya? are ya mine?"

y/n couldn't even form coherent sentences. "i- i mhm. i'm y-yours! fuck!" she knew she was about to cum. the feeling of his cock balls-deep in her cunt was almost unbearable.

her face contored as she came on his dick. her juices coating him only pushed him over the edge as he released inside of her.

"shit, 'm sorry." he panted, breathless. the two of them began catching their breath again as y/n slowly moved off his dick, wincing in the process.

matt picked the clothes up from beneath them, handing y/n hers.

"sorry i made us miss whatever we had planned." she mumbled as she shimmied back into her dress.

matt chuckled. he hadn't even thought about their date.

"it was a reservation to some fancy japanese restaurant."

y/n laughed dryly.

and the rest was a blur. all of her worries had washed away. she was happy to have him, whether he was hers or not.

an - literally wrote this in 20 minutes while my boyfriend got me mcdonalds soo apologies if this sucks :P

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #christopher sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo fluff #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fanfic fluff #sturniolo triplets imagines #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo smut #smut #matthew sturniolo #matthew sturniolo fluff #matt x reader #matthew sturniolo imagine

109 notes · View notes

raven-at-the-writing-desk · 6 months

Text

Steal Your Heart (Part 1)

When the calling card of the infamous Knave of Hearts arrives, he’ll rob his victims blind of their most treasured items on the appointed date. Enter ace detective Yuu accompanied by rookie cop Deuce Spade, both seeking to apprehend the Knave and bring him to justice.

Will they succeed, or will the phantom thief steal their valuables--and their hearts--first?

This was originally meant to be one fic, but it was getting to be WAY too long. I decided to split it in half and release this part now and the second part (which I am still working on!) later. This first part focuses more on Yuu and Deuce; the second part will be more Yuu and Ace.

(Please note: there are slight romantic implications in the form of an Ace/Yuu/Deuce love triangle, but those elements could also be interpreted as platonic or as just playful teasing with no additional meaning. It’s all in the eyes of the reader!)

Imagine this...

The police station’s waiting room was a familiar sight.

With time, the shiny checkered floor had grown matte, marred with scratches and scuffs from the boots that crossed it on a daily basis. Someone had taken to attempt to pretty up the otherwise dull space by hanging out abstract paintings on the cream-colored walls, and a vase of white roses dripping with red paint at the check-in desk. There was as even a glass tank which housed a small family of colorful hedgehogs.

Maybe they were meant to be welcoming—but really, they were more clashing than anything. Certainly not a fit for the stiff atmosphere of the station.

Still the fluorescent lightbulbs buzzed faintly, flickering in and out on occasion. The sound distracted from the old television mounted in a corner to entertain guests. It seemed to play commercials on a loop more often than it played actual shows. Currently, an Olympus Corp. branded tablet was being toted as the next big technological marvel—though the TV’s audio was fuzzy at best, and the image half static.

A coffee table pushed to the wall, stacked with a new stash of magazines. Whoever updated the reading materials—most likely the friendly senior officer with orange waves for hair—was into the latest trends, often selecting fashion magazines with high gloss finishes. A dangerously beautiful man graced the covers of many of them, dressed in the hottest summertime styles while looking the part of an untouchable ice queen.

As usual, the station was scented with coffee and tea, the beverages of choice for many officers burning the midnight oil or working overtime. The chief demanded it at times to meet deadlines and goals—he was such a stickler for them—and the caffeine helped those under him stay sane as they went about their duties.

In the afternoons, most were either out on lunch or on patrol, lessening the foot traffic at HQ. There was only one man in uniform, seated behind the desk and filing some papers.

Yuu shifted in their own chair, adjusting the rim of the baseball cap upon their head. They were suited in an inconspicuous jacket and sneakers, fingers toying with a badge in a pocket, hidden out of view. To the common man, they were a jogger--but one flash of their lilac gemstone bound to a black and white striped ribbon, and there would be no doubt as to what their true identity was.

The smell of coffee and tea grew stronger, and Yuu glanced up from behind the bill of their hat.

The bespectacled man from behind the fro

nt desk had approached. He had a sheepish smile, bearing a paper cup filled with hot brown liquid and a napkin with a donut laid upon it. Bright pink icing dusted with sugared violet petals crowned the golden fried pastry.

“Detective.”

“Mr. Clover.” Yuu nodded—a terse, polite greeting. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Please, just ‘Trey’ is fine.” He offered the treats, which they readily accepted. “Sorry for calling you in on such short notice. I’m sure you’re busy juggling your other cases—but I think I speak for the entire department when I say we’re thankful that you were able to make it.”

“No worries, I’m used to it in this line of work,” Yuu replied. “It must be something pretty urgent this time around. The Chief sounded frantic over the phone.”

Trey rubbed at his chin, grasping for the right words. “Let’s just say he’s not in the best of moods right now. You’ll need that sugar to get through this in one piece.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you.”

“Just trying to avoid any trouble. You’d better finish them before you step into his office. You know how he hates it when there are crumbs or spills in there.”

“Aye, aye, sir.” Yuu gave a joking salute before starting to pack away at their snack. The drink was the instant kind, and practically scalding, but it was easy to tell that the donut was homemade. The pastry, flaky on the outside and fluffy on the inside, dusted with sugar granules and sweet icing. “Wouldn’t want the Chief to be blowing a fuse again.”

“No, definitely not. He’s done too much of that lately.” Trey carefully eyed Yuu’s donut, now only half of it left. “Oh, but be sure to brush your teeth a thorough cleaning tonight, or I might have some problems with you. Cavities and staining are real dangers, you know.”

“Are you Assistant Chief of Police or my dental hygienist?” Yuu took a generous swig, then a bite just as big. “You worry too much about everything.”

“Ahahah… Do I? It’s a habit, I guess. Comes with the job.”

“That stressful, huh?”

“Well, I do what I can to smooth things over. Hopefully you can too. It’s been difficult on our department with the Chief all rattled up about the… situation.” He stopped himself. “I’m sure you’ll hear all about it from him.”

So the case is top-secret, Yuu concluded with the last of their donut. Not to be discussed in the public.

They ran their tongue across the length of their mouth, lapping up the remains of sugary residue. “I understand. The details are not to leave his office.”

“You catch on quickly. No wonder why the Chief thinks so highly of your abilities.”

“Flattery’s a part of your tool kit as well, Trey?”

He raised his eyebrows. “… You’ve worked long enough with us to figure these things out. Nothing gets by you, it seems.”

“UGIGIGIGIGGGGHHHH!!”

The remainder of Yuu’s drink sloshed around in its cup, set into motion by the bloodcurdling scream.

A familiar man with orange waves erupted from the chief’s office, hurriedly slamming the door shut behind him. His typically relaxed features were arranged in panic, his hair frazzled.

“How did trying to calm him work out, Cater?” Trey inquired half-heartedly. It was a courtesy more than genuine curiosity.

“What do you think?” the senior officer groaned, sinking where he stood.

Yuu quickly finished their drink, tossing their trash—the evidence they had been there—away and then stood, adjusting their jacket. “That sounds like it’s my cue.”

“Yeah, it is.” Trey sighed, frowning. “He’s in a tough spot right. Be kind to him, will you? That’s all I ask.”

“You got it.” Yuu tipped their baseball cap as they passed the officer. “Thank you for the pick-me-up. I’ll be seeing you, then. Officer Diamond—get some rest.”

“Good luck.”

“You’ll need it, Yuu-chan! Brace yourself.”

The Police Chief was a small but serious man.

His character came through in his office space: books on law and order neatly arranged on shelves, papers and files alphabetically organized in their cabinets, and pens evenly spaced apart and arranged in rows. A crystal vase with deep red roses was poised beside his writing implements. A plate polished to a fine shine was propped up at his desk, reading: Riddle Rosehearts, Chief of Police.

Perched imposingly despite his short stature in his seat, he impatiently tapped a finger on an arm. Riddle’s face was a telltale red and veiny, proof of his earlier outburst, but was beginning to cool into a faint, smooth pink.

There was already another man in the office, sitting across from the Police Chief. He was pale and jittery in a suit the color of the night and sewn with blue sequins and glitter. A top hat rested upon his raven locks, the brim of it shading his hauntingly golden eyes.

Yuu removed their hat and, keeping it to their chest, gave a shallow bow as they entered. “Sir.”

One move out of line, one hair out of place, and they suspected he, in his volatile and vulnerable state, would explode anew.

“Welcome, Detective. I’m glad you could join us today.” Every word was a gruff puff of air, a leash with which to wrest control of his rage. Riddle gestured to the empty chair beside the nervous man. “Sit.”

Yuu obeyed, sinking into the seat offered. They casted a glance at the stranger adjacent to them, who was fiddling with his velvet-lined gloves.

“Mr. Crowley, this is the independent detective from Stray Cat Investigations that I had previously mentioned to you. The force has collaborated with them for a number of difficult cases in the past. Their wit and strategic skills have made them an invaluable asset. I thought it prudent to have them return to join us for your case as well.

“Yuu, meet Dire Crowley. He is the esteemed director and curator for the Sage’s Island Museum, and he’s come to us with his woes.”

“Hello, Mr. Crowley,” Yuu said politely. “It’s nice to meet you.”

He responded with a tired attempt at a smile. “Yes, you too.”

“Now that we’re all acquainted with one another...” Riddle produced a file from beneath his desk and placed it before himself. “Do you care to explain, or shall I?”

“I-I’ll elaborate!” Crowley crowed. He picked at a collection of keys belted to his waist, glistening gold under artificial lights. “The Sage’s Island Museum is planning a new exhibition on the Great Seven. As part of the exhibit, we are having many priceless artifacts flown in from all over Twisted Wonderland. We have donations from even Briar Valley’s royal family!!

“There will also be a great number of important VIP guests present for the grand opening of the exhibit. Royalty, wealthy benefactors, important diplomats, businessmen, celebrities... All individuals who wish to see their history on display! This is very important, you see!! M-My reputation--er, I mean, the museum’s reputation--is on the line here!!”

“Right.” Yuu nodded as they parsed through the information. “I’m following what you’re putting down. And where does your problem arise, Mr. Crowley?”

“Ah, now that,” Riddle smirked, “is the question of the hour.”

He opened his file, pulling out...

A single playing card, its back facing Yuu.

“I trust you’ve been keeping up with the news?”

“As any good detective would. There have been several robberies lately. Terrible, really.” Yuu’s expression clouded with concentration. “Hmm... but if it’s a potential robbery that you’re concerned about, Mr. Crowley... Doesn’t the Sage’s Island Museum boast a state-of-the-art security system from Olympus Corp.? I doubt the average thief would be able to bypass it.”

“That’s just the trouble,” Crowley loudly lamented.

“We are dealing with no ordinary thief,” Riddle clarified.

“It’s not?”

“No. Far from it.” The Police Chief exhaled sharply. “The string of robberies from before--they’re connected by a single thread, perpetuated by the same lone culprit. And now that scoundrel intends to continue his crime spree.”

“I’ve never heard of this before.”

“You shouldn’t have. It was a top-secret operation within my force since the first of its kind.”

“Why am I being told of it now?”

“Because, loathe as I am to admit it, the culprit has managed to outwit us and elude capture each and every time, He employs a bag of cheap parlor tricks and smoke and mirrors like the coward he is,” Riddle confessed begrudgingly. The blue-grey of his eyes were steely and stubborn. “A case as important as this needs the additional man—and brain—power, Detective.”

He placed the playing card down and slid it toward the detective. “This arrived in the morning at Mr. Crowley’s desk, the same as all the prior robberies. It gave him quite the fright. He rushed all the way to the station to beg for our assistance.”

“This is...” Yuu gingerly turned the card over, revealing a message scrawled on the other side in bright red gel ink. Each letter was big and bubbly, bursting with cheek and pomp.

Their heart jumped.

To the Old Crow that safeguards the Museum,

Heyo~

Your pockets look a lil’ heavy there, so I’ll help you out. (Aren’t I so kind?) Three days from now, I’ll claim one of your most prized treasures at the stroke of midnight.

Stand back and watch as I perform the greatest magic trick you’ll ever see... and make the portrait of the Queen of Hearts vanish before your very eyes. It’ll be a show-stopper!!

Until then,

Phantom Thief Knave of Hearts <3 ;3

P.S. Send the cops my regards, they can’t catch me lol (especially when their teapot tyrant’s patience is in SHORT supply geddit)

“They’re just flat-out announcing what their intentions are,” Yuu realized. They were half impressed, half shocked at the gall. “You said all of the victims received messages like this?”

“Calling cards, yes.” The fury had returned to Riddle’s features, causing his voice to spike and strain. “It’s infuriating!! What does he get off on, misappropriating magic as cheap parlor tricks for crime, writing notes in such a cocksure manner, taunting us to pursue him?!

“Not only is he poking fun at my height and committing a crime, but for mere SPORT?! For the THRILL of it?! He’s making a mockery of the good people of this island and of my men and our efforts to secure the peace!!”

The Police Chief slammed a fist down on his desk, rattling his glass vase and setting his perfectly straight pens askew. Crowley shrunk back in fear. “That Knave of Hearts...!! He must be stopped at all costs!!”

“Y-Yes, absolutely!!” Crowley chimed in. “For my--er, I mean, for the museum’s sake, this criminal must be put behind bars!! That’s why I’ve come to you, my good people!

“My taxpayer dollars help fund the police force, so I’ve come to collect on what its promise to protect and to serve the community!! Well, here’s the community at your doorstep asking you to protect and to serve!!”

“That’s why you want to put me on this case,” Yuu concluded, clasping the calling card to their racing heart. “To prevent this from going down tonight.”

“And furthermore,” Riddle added, “to investigate the identity of this so-called phantom thief once the museum is safely secured.”

“That’s a tall order, sir.”

“You’ll have access to our force’s resources, and to my officers. You will assist in overseeing this operation, with maps and outlines of the museum’s security detail from Mr. Crowley. We’ll cooperate to create a plan of attack to apprehend the Knave.”

“You misunderstand me. I never said I wouldn’t take the job,” Yuu coolly informed the Chief. Their mouth cocked upwards with confidence. “I’m always up for a challenge.”

“Oh, blessed day!! From the very bottom of my oh-so-generous heart, thank you very much!!” Crowley cried tearfully.

For the first time the entire briefing, Riddle smiled back at Yuu. “Hmph. That’s what I like to hear. Happy to be working with you again, Detective.”

“Likewise, Chief.”

The sun had already set when Yuu exited the station, the stars blinking into existence. Several hours had been spent picking the museum curator’s brain with a fine-toothed comb, looking over layouts, and memorizing security detail. The information had been well-stocked, and now came the time to let it marinate and bloom into plans.

Stuffing their hands in their pockets, Yuu shuffled down the sidewalk and past rows of parked vehicles. Ahead, neon lights flashed in and out, and the trains rattled on their well-worn tracks, buses and cars honking at each other, the chatter of street vendors filling the air.

And something different than the usual tonight.

The city never slept, always buzzed with energy. Yuu had become accustomed to its sights and sounds, finding them even comforting. Their best ideas were conceived against the hum of the cityscape. It was just soft enough to not fully distract, but just noticeable enough to tug at their thoughts for long enough to stray into new territories and concepts.

Light from lonely streetlamps created tears in the darkness, illuminating the path to their favorite downtown thinking spot: the Mostro Lounge. A good (albeit overpriced) drink would chase away their tiredness.

Yuu continued with that promise in mind, every step catlike. First quick, next slow, then quick, moderate, slow, quick, slow, quick, moderate. Their speed, ever alternating.

Their ears strained against the sounds of the city, slowly parsing through the individual elements.

Trains, buses, cars, chatter… and the soft footsteps masked by them. Footsteps which matched Yuu’s pace.

There was no mistaking it now.

I’m being followed.

They didn’t look to see who it was—the first rule of tailing a target was to never alert them to your awareness. Yuu would know (as oftentimes they were the one in the position of tailer).

They cast their eyes across the street, which was busy with bodies. Once Yuu merged with the crowd, they could easily shake off their stalker.

Their feet picked up their pace again, hurrying to the crosswalk. It was a glaring red, advising pedestrians to stop.

Shoot, Yuu cursed.

They felt a presence step up beside them. From the corner of their eye, they could make out a dark form--clothes. Yuu pretended to check the time on their phone, and glimpsed him in the reflection.

He was in a hoodie, with the hood pulled up and head down to conceal his features. His hands, too, were out of sight, a sea of baggy fabric hiding identifying features, save for his frame. Lanky, but reasonably packed with muscle to keep up with Yuu.

The man shifted, and his sight grazed theirs. His eyes were hard and icy, a silent threat.

Yuu quickly focused on the crosswalk light. Their heartbeat became as loud as the surrounding sounds. Screeching above the vehicles, shouting from the rooftops. THA-THUMP, THA-THUMP, THA-THUMP.

At last, the light turned from red to white.

Walk.

They started--and so did he.

“Excuse me.” A hand came upon their shoulder. The other pulled at something with a sinister glint. “Do you have a second?”

No walking, Yuu corrected themselves. Run!!

They sprinted down the crosswalk, jostling pedestrians with a hasty “sorry!” thrown back at them. As Yuu weaved through the crowd as fast as they could, they could not completely shunt out the man after them.

“Hey, please wait!! Where are you going?! C-Come back, I need to talk to you!”

His voice carried above the others. People jolted back, the crowd parting to make way for the man to charge forth. His volume swelled louder and louder as he gained on them.

Towering apartments seemed to bear down on Yuu. Their windows, glaring.

A shop. Find a shop and get inside!!

Yuu pumped their arms, pleaded for their legs to move more efficiently.

Again, a weight fell upon their shoulder. It was a clamp, fingers biting Yuu’s skin through their jacket as they dug in and held firm.

The other hand wielded the same shining object that it had before. Yuu looked more closely this time, and the unease in them dissipated. It was not the pointed tip of a knife, but the glint of a familiar officer’s badge wreathed in golden roses.

The man tore off his hood with a sigh--though Yuu noticed that he wasn’t one bit out of breath. Navy bangs fell across his forehead, his eyes a peacock green-blue, much friendlier under the streetlamps than the crosswalk signs.

He smiled at Yuu as though he were greeting an old friend. His grip turned into a tender squeeze. “I finally caught up with you!”

The detective awkwardly pulled away, confusion scrawled on their face. “Um... Sorry, who are you? I don’t believe we’ve met before.”

“Oh! Uh...” The man jumped, retracting his hand. “That’s because we haven’t! Er, not officially anyway, but I’ve heard a lot about you!!”

Yuu pointed to his badge. “That. You’re an officer?”

“Yessir!” The man offered the proof of his identity and stiffly saluted. “Officer Deuce Spade, sir!! I’m a new recruit...!! I just joined the force a few weeks ago!”

Yuu mustered a faint smile. The darned fool was going to give them away. “... Am I in trouble, officer?”

“Nossir! Not at all!” His entire face shone with eagerness, earnest, and a slightly nervous energy. Maybe Yuu would have found it adorable (in the same way that a child trying hard was adorable), were he not blasting your occupation to the public. “Why would you be in trouble, sir?! You’re working with...”

“Okaaay, that’s enough out of you!” Yuu slapped a hand over Deuce’s mouth, silencing him.

Curious onlookers murmured amongst themselves. Some had taken to halt and full-on gawk. Children pointed, adult narrowing their eyes with suspicion.

Yuu frowned, removing their hand to shoo pedestrians away. “Nothing to see here, folks. Just a misunderstanding. Move along, Wonder Boy and I can settle this ourselves.”

“Wonder Boy?” Deuce, in a daze, pointed to himself. “Is that... me?”

“Who else would I be talking about?” Yuu folded their arms. “I assume you’re free now?”

“I am, sir! I was just let off my shift a little while ago, sir!”

“First, drop the ‘sir’. It’s giving me a headache,” Yuu instructed. “Second, if you’re free, then you’ll be joining me for a drink and a chat. We have things to discuss--chief among them being why you were following me.”

Ring-a-ling!

A bell sounded as the door to the Mostro Lounge swung open. Deuce stepped into a new world, Yuu at his side.

The interior itself was dim, but glass lights fastened in the shape of jellyfish projected swimming incandescent lights in purple, blue, and pink. Velvet booths lined one half of the eatery, the other, a glossy bar with tall, narrow stools, the shelves behind it healthily stocked with bottles in jeweled tones. Strangers poised with drink took residence in most of the seats.

The entire back wall had been repurposed into a massive aquarium teeming with aquatic plants and exotic creatures. Seaweed and coral gently swayed to the rhythm of the smooth jazz floating through the lounge, fish frolicking among them.

“Whoooa,” Deuce gasped, craning his head to drink in every detail. “I’ve never been to a place as classy as this. It looks so expensive. You think my salary’s enough to cover at least an appetizer?”

“Hang on tight to your wallet,” Yuu warned. “This place will squeeze you for every thaumark you’re worth and then some—and they won’t feel a bit of remorse about it.”

The detective raised an arm, flagging a nearby waiter.

Their uniform was simple yet sleek: dark dress pants, a white bow tie, spotless gloves, and a cummerbund and suspenders over a lavender button-up shirt. It allowed for slight variation—one waiter skidded by with his shirt buttoned as low as food safety regulations deemed safe. Another jotted down orders with a jacket thrown over his shoulders and a pair of glasses tucked into the crevice of his buttons.

The waiter Yuu called out to approached like a shark fin cutting through still water, neatly bowing to greet their waiting customers. He was prim and proper compared to the other servers, not a button out of place.

When he raised his head, Deuce marveled at his mismatched olive and gold irises, the teal of his hair marred by a stripe of black. Three diamond-shaped scales dangled from his left ear, as sharp as his eyes.

“I bid you welcome to the Mostro Lounge, honored guests,” the waiter said smoothly. He gaze immediately cut to Deuce. “I see you’ve brought a friend with you, today, Yuu-san. How delightfully rare.”

“Acquaintance. We just met outside under… less than ideal circumstances.”

“Oya, how quick you were to seize on that chance encounter. I may even deem you a bigger opportunist than our dear manager.”

“… Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Deuce inquired.

“Perhaps you will find the answer to your question, should you act as a patron at our establishment for long enough.”

“Quit toying with him, Jade. You know what we’re here for,” Yuu grumbled. “My usual.”

“If that is what you wish. And for this gentleman acquaintance of yours?”

“Just ice water is fine, sir!”

Jade maintained his polite smile. “Very well. One glass of ice cold water for you. I will bring you a menu as well, in case you begin to feel peckish late into the night.”

“Oh, thanks!”

“Right this way then.” Jade gestured for the two to follow him.

“He’s upselling you, you know,” Yuu pointed out under their breath. “Hoping that you’ll buy something when presented with the opportunity to spend.”

“E-Eh, he is?! I didn’t even realize…”

“Fufufu. Please, do not let your worries consume you. You have come to relax, correct? We at the Mostro Lounge ask that you put your fins and your feet up and enjoy yourself while the night is still young.”

They were escorted to two empty stools in a (relatively) quiet corner of the bar. The glass jellyfish lights were clustered in the center of the main dining area, leaving the corner like a slice of dark, uncharted waters. Jass music and conversation filtered into a muffled melody.

Yuu plopped down with relief, followed by an apprehensive Deuce. He slowly sank into the cushy seat.

“I will be right back with your drinks. If you will excuse me.” With another bow, Jade rounded the bar and rolled up his sleeves—the transition from waiter to bartender. Presenting his back to the duo, he set to plucking bottles off of the shelves.

Deuce blinked. He still hadn’t taken to fully processing his new surroundings. “Are we really going kick back and have drinks when there’s a serial thief on the loose?”

“We can’t talk about that in public, or risk blowing my cover. It’s safe to talk here,” Yuu reassured him. “What happens in the Mostro Lounge stays in the Mostro Lounge. Say what you want about the slimy staff, but they know how to keep their patrons’ secrets. Client confidentiality and all.”

The young officer brightened. “Ooooh, I get it!”

“… You’re not the sharpest tool in the shed,” Yuu remarked bluntly. They slipped off their baseball cap, letting loose their hair. “So? Let’s have it.”

“Have what?”

“Your reason for following me.”

“Oh!! That.” Deuce nervously scratched at the back of his neck. “That’s kind of…”

The detective drummed their fingers on the polished counter. Methodical, deliberate. “You mentioned that you recently joined the force. However, only senior officials in the police department and myself were privy to this operation. How did you come to learn about it?”

Deuce stiffened, thrown off his beat (if he had any to begin with). “Th-That’s…!”

“I’m asking you a question, Mr. Spade. Please answer me truthfully.”

“I… um�� Truth is, I…” Deuce stared at his lap, unable to meet the detective’s eyes. “I might have eavesdropped when I returned from my patrol shift…”

“Go on,” Yuu coaxed.

“There was a report I had to submit to the Chief, but it sounded like he was busy in his office. It’s hard to not notice him when he raises his voice, sir. I decided to wait outside until he was done, and… well, I got curious.”

“Wasn’t Assistant Chief Clover also present? He just let you do that without a single protest?”

“Assistant Chief Clover was very nice to me! He laughed a little and said ‘make sure you don’t get caught with your hand in the cookie jar’!”

Darn it, Trey!! You could’ve been a LITTLE stricter with this guy…! Yuu groaned, massaging the bridge of their nose. “Okay, I think I’m starting to get a better picture of what went down. You followed me wanting to learn more about the operation.”

Like a curious child chasing after a white rabbit. Still immature, still wondering, and still way over their head.

“Yes, but that’s not all!” Deuce insisted. He abruptly stood from the table. “There’s an even more important reason than just satisfying my curiosity, sir!”

Yuu quirked an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”

“I had to talk to you—without the Chief around. I had to. That’s why I followed you in secret.” The officer nibbled his lower lip, as if biting back something harsh and bitter from coming up.

“Out with it, Mr. Spade.”

“Pardon the intrusion,” Jade coolly interjected. His tone was nonchalant but his bemused smile was a telltale sign that he was relishing in every second of the hot gossip. “Your beverages.”

He slid two glasses between Yuu and Deuce before departing. One was tall and slim—a highball—loaded with carbonated water and fruity gummies. Yellow for jeweled pineapples, red for ruby berries, green for frozen mint, black for floral cacao, and blue from pure azure salt. It was Yuu’s usual, the famed Mystery Drink. The other glass was, by comparison, an ordinary drink of water, a single large, clear cube of ice floating in it.

A bead of sweat ran down Deuce’s jawline. Condensation forming and racing on his glass of water.

Suddenly, the officer slapped both hands on the counter, slamming his face down upon its surface. His navy hair splayed, forehead touching the table in a display of humility.

Yuu almost spilled their drink. “What are you doing?”

“I’m begging you, sir!! P-Please put me on the mission!!” Deuce pleaded, his voice shaky but resolute. “I… I want to help catch the Knave of Hearts too!!”

“If that’s all you wanted, why ask me? Go through the proper channels to…”

“I can’t!! The Chief would never allow it.” His expression creased with shame. “He says rookies need to work their way up from meter maid to working on cases.”

“He’s right. You need to grow into these things, not rush in head-first in a burst of passion.” Yuu made to take a sip of their drink—but the officer’s fist collided with the counter, the liquid inside the glass sloshing overboard. Seltzer water splashed onto their pant leg, leaving a sticky wet spot on a thigh.

“P-Please reconsider! I know how to handle myself in a fight! I’m fast, I could easily catch up with him if it’s a race on foot!”

“Look,” the detective said irritably, “I don’t know what you’re hoping to accomplish here. Fact is, no matter how much you ask, I wouldn’t want to take you on for this case. You’re too green behind the ears—and sorry, but I just don’t see you as an asset.

“You may be strong and quick on your feet, but it’ll take more than strength and speed to catch the Knave of Hearts. There’s a reason he hasn’t been caught yet.” Yuu tapped at their temple. “It’s this. He’s got smarts, and we need to combat that with smarts of our own.”

“I-I can be smart!! I can try to, at least! Please, just let me try…!!”

Frustrated, Yuu scrutinized the young man again. Their eyes roaming, searching, for detail wrong, a hair out of place.

Years of sleuthing had built up a great amount of cynicism and distrust in the detective. How many times had they pulled back the curtain, revealing the ugly truths hidden out of plain sight? How many bruised egos--both clients and coworkers--had they encountered? People seeking status or to feed their own pride.

Yet when they looked at Deuce, none of that ugliness or ego came through. Here was someone who stubbornly stared right back at Yuu, unwilling to back down, even when his dignity lay in tatters on the floor the instant he prostrated himself.

Another selfish bid for recognition? They ventured, toying with the idea. Maybe personal ambition, looking to climb up in the world.

“... One reason,” Yuu said, holding up an index finger. “Give me one good reason why I should take you on. Convince me.”

Deuce recoiled--as though even he hadn’t expected to have made it this far, or to be taken seriously at all. His brows creased with effort as he racked the recesses of his mind to find the right phrasing.

A second later, he let out a piercing shout.

“GAAAAAAAAH!!”

With a grunt, Deuce grasped his cup of ice water and lifted it to his lips. He hammered the drink in a single swig, releasing a satisfied hoot. The liquid courage had revived the man, returning the spark to him.

In a voice as clear as the drink he had just downed, Deuce said, “It’s for my mom. She’s just about the sweetest, most hard-working person I know.”

He hung his head and slammed his empty cup down, shaking the entire table.

“She raised me as a single parent. Mom never once complained, only wanted the best life for me.” Deuce glared into his glass, speaking with scorn and anger--not at others, but for himself. “And how did I repay her? I... turned to delinquency.

“I acted out because I wasn’t man enough to do the mature thing and work on myself!! She blamed herself for my stupid decisions! I made mom worry for me so, so much...”

Plip, plip.

Deuce faltered, letting quiet tears dribble down his cheeks and landing on the cube of ice left in his glass. Once they made contact with the frozen block, it was impossible to tell what was water and what was salt.

“I swore to myself that I would turn my life around... to show mom that it’s not her fault, that she did all she could to raised someone who could contribute to society!! So I studied really hard at the police academy, and even though my grades were crappy, I managed to graduate...!!”

He choked up, a concoction of fiery passion infused in his stuttering words. “I can finally be that model officer and make a change in the community! But I haven’t done a damn thing...! I just play meter maid while bad guys are out there running free, when I could be out there making this city a safer place for mom and everyone that lives here...!!”

The noises of the lounge seemed to fade into a stoic silence around Deuce. His declaration reverberated loudly. “I have to do this. I need to do this.”

He bowed again, his forehead pressed hard against the surface of the table. The single word he uttered was hoarse, desperate.

“Please.”

Deuce pried himself up almost painfully. The eyes were aquamarine, wet with hot tears. Something shone through them in shades of blue and green, priceless as any treasure: an honesty that burned like an eternal flame.

Yuu startled, striken by a single, haunting revelation: He’s telling the truth.

“... I don’t think I’ve met someone like you before,” they said cryptically. “I don’t doubt your story—but as touching as it is, I don’t know if...”

Hesitation reared its head, and Yuu forced themselves to look away. Couldn’t bear to see him, that wide-eyed sincerity.

Emotion clashing with their sound logic. Two things that shouldn’t have belonged together colliding.

Wait... things that don’t belong together? Things I didn’t expect, surprises and twists to the tale...

A ex-delinquent turned into a policeman. A selfishness turned selfless. An anticipated lie turned into a truth. Something there that hadn’t been before.

The detective’s mind raced, quickly outpacing the words leaving their mouth. A solution which subverted expectations, a trap laced with honey for a man with sticky fingers.

That’s it. We’ll pull a trick of our own.

“Okay, I’ve changed my mind,” Yuu abruptly announced. “You’re in on this operation, Mr. Spade.”

“R-Really?!” Deuce’s face nearly tore in half, his volume revving up like a motorcycle engine. “You mean it?!”

“I do.”

Yuu took a cool sip of their Mystery Drink. Flavors from all over Twisted Wonderland cascaded over their tongue—a triumphant, fleeting pleasure.

They set their glass down and bent over, gripping Deuce by the strings of his hoodie. Yuu tugged, bringing the policeman lurching forward.

His clammy forehead against theirs. Centimeters away, his eyes widened. A flushed heat climbed to his cheeks, his voice set in a stammer.

“S-Sir, what are we...”

“You’ll have to follow my instructions very carefully,” Yuu replied with a devious grin. “Listen up, rookie: cuz you’re going to be the star of this show. Here’s the plan...”

The ambience of the lounge drowned out Yuu’s whispers. From afar, their words could only be read through the shapes of their mouth, the increasingly confused and alarmed expressions that Deuce pulled.

Jade observed them patiently, chuckling to himself. “My, my, it seems like our genius detective has found yet another solution.”

CLATTER, CLATTER!!

A tray piled high with empty plates and dishes was slammed down. Jade’s twin peered around the stack, leaning lazily against the bar.

“Eeeh, but I bet against them this time.”

“Playing the contrarian runs its risks.” Jade picked up a glass, staring at his brother through it. The golden orb called his left eye was clear as a topaz. “As for myself, I’m excited to see how this plays out.”

PLAP.

A notepad came down on the table as a third waiter joined them.

“Both of you need to stop gossiping and get back to work,” their manager chided, sliding the notepad—scrawled with fresh orders—to Jade. “Leave the customers to tend to their own business. We’ll soon know the outcome.”

[To be continued...]

224 notes · View notes

froody · 9 months

Text

I like thrifting and antiquing videos because y’know, I’m an antique collector. I just watched a video of a woman cover a black glass art deco vase with MATTE WHITE SPRAY PAINT. I’m tearing my hair out. Even though she didn’t show us the makers mark or anything I’m fairly sure it was authentic, if it was a replica then it was a beautiful piece on its own. I hate DIYers so much like I get needing to repair or refurbish pieces that are in poor condition but in what world is it more economical, practical or satisfying to spray paint an 80 year old glass vase than to buy the stupid $12 Home Goods ceramic porcelain vase you wanted in the first place. Black glass is so fucking beautiful. This generation’s obsession with beiges and earth tones and matte textures has me biting and writhing and foaming at the mouth.

#the vase would have been worth like $50 so it isn’t a precious destroyed treasure to most but WHAT THE FUCKKKKK #she was very gorgeous to me

255 notes · View notes

egypt-museum · 22 days

Text

Cosmetic Vase in the form of Fish

This cosmetic vase was found in a medium-sized private house at Tell el-Amarna, buried under a plaster floor together with two glass jugs and some metal objects. It is the most spectacular of a small group of fish-form vessels, all representing the ‘bulti’-fish common in the Nile and a standard feature of Egyptian decorative art.

The body is core-built in blue glass with a matt finish, and is decorated with simple festoons in groups of three or four white lines followed by a yellow line. The tail decorations are in the same colors. The dorsal fin is composed of a series of heavy threads in the body (blue, white, yellow, and turquoise-blue). The front fins are each composed of one light and one darker blue thread.

New Kingdom, 18th Dynasty, ca. 1353-1336 BC. From Tell el-Amarna. Now in the British Museum. EA 55193

#ancient egypt #amarna #18th dynasty #new kingdom

83 notes · View notes

yourartmatters-itswhatgotmehere · 9 months

Text

as a queer person #FellowTravelers already means a lot, but THIS episode8-finale ep-ending scene? this scene means absolutely the world, it's everything, for all of us.🌈

can't watch it without sobbing.

(please do check the WHOLE post, and watch How to Survive a Plague 2012, it's a MUST watch (+everything you spot in this post)

+important reading about AIDS/HIV: https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/139102124?shelf=about-aids-hiv

+ a special episode where we hear(literally) from listeners of the show who were lovers, nurses, relatives, students, and friends of people who died from AIDS. (have tissues nearby):https://open.spotify.com/episode/4rTjExVqMVoEtCVPISSW5t?si=Dx09EVStQAiNHoTYvwZvFw & https://www.iheart.com/podcast/269-a-bit-fruity-with-matt-ber-117844074/episode/stories-from-the-aids-crisis-191687576/

+ also queer history/facts from RWRB(Alex engaging with queer history)(thank you SO. MUCH. CASEY MCQUISTON!!)-GREAT POST here on tumblr!!-many links here, lots of information! (Waterloo Vase, Stonewall, SCOTUS decision 2015, Walt Whitman, Laws of Illinois 1961, The White Nights Riots, Paris Is Burning, THAT David Wojnarowicz photo 'If I Die Of AIDS-Forget Burial-Just Drop My Body On The Steps Of The F.D.A' https://www.tumblr.com/yourartmatters-itswhatgotmehere/757305651356729344?source=share (I encourage you to research more about David!!) , Thisbe & Pyramus, The V & A, James I & George Villiers and MORE!!) https://www.tumblr.com/yourartmatters-itswhatgotmehere/757308307835895808?source=share (Learning about things referenced in Red, White & Royal Blue, thank you @ elipheleh)

+ https://www.tumblr.com/yourartmatters-itswhatgotmehere/743725164968214528?source=share

+ https://yourartmatters-itswhatgotmehere.tumblr.com/post/746941244472786944/so-alright-here-are-the-moviesmedia-that-make

BOOKS TO LEARN MORE ABOUT BISEXUAL HISTORY & ACTIVISM:https://www.tumblr.com/ruimtetijd/686000390089621504/list-of-books-about-bi-history-and-activism-from &https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/139102124?shelf=bi-bisexual-characters-done-well

+ https://www.queeringthemap.com/

+ https://www.aidsmemorial.org/interactive-aids-quilt

+ https://www.tumblr.com/yourartmatters-itswhatgotmehere/752340111366160384/this?source=share

+Thank You Howard Ashman, I love you forever, so many of us are here and sane because of Your legacy and impact.(DISNEY-QUEER SONGS-MUSIC-POST):https://www.tumblr.com/yourartmatters-itswhatgotmehere/753605532240216064/howard-ashman-i-love-you-forever-so-many-of-us?source=share &https://www.tumblr.com/yourartmatters-itswhatgotmehere/754612616112046080?source=share

about Howard, about AIDS, listen to the song 'Sheridan Square' if you haven't yet, Howard wrote it with Alan Menken. And yes, it makes me sob every single time i hear it: .https://open.spotify.com/track/5p61V1pNfa4qoZIxm6apex?si=a32ca6011ab44782 &https://youtu.be/-4fr8JGkeO4 &https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=97-NzeIkkJI&list=OLAK5uy_l7U2qdUmOPfgWwmsCA0cc_-KDxwjMj5zM +Learn more :https://stanforddaily.com/2019/06/05/sheridan-square/ & please research more about Howard, there's a lot of Him in THIS IMPORTANT post because we, queer people, owe him so so much.

♥.https://open.spotify.com/playlist/19uKl8PZixNjsMBBqSP1bf?si=e6186d9a0a824679 &https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0X8DlZ8X0q9Pzvqq857XlV?si=fa85b32666b94e74 &https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6vdBgNpWvIwjCLD2JrJwxj?si=3274258c86f842

youtube

+ :

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by matt bernstein (@mattxiv)

instagram

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by matt bernstein (@mattxiv)

instagram

+ https://twitter.com/beames_josh/status/1500938296209199108 + https://twitter.com/beames_josh/status/1500935379154657281

+once you're here check out this important posts:

bi ig highlight : https://www.instagram.com/stories/highlights/18280848235083086/

. .

258 notes · View notes

4sturns · 9 months

Text

you're gonna be sky teller for a second because the idea of both matt and chris being into you is so hot to me like ....

imagine chris hearing from a friend of yours that you absolutely adore white roses because they symbolize loyalty, so he starts walking to your house down the street of the florist with a bouquet of fresh white roses inhand. he's approaching your driveway when he spots an unfortunately familiar car parked right in front of your garage.

imagine chris letting out a huff of air before knocking on the door, maybe a little too aggressively as he fixes his hair and readjusted his grip on the flowers.

imagine chris' face dropping as anger seeps through his entire body as he's face to face with matt, who sports a cocky almost condescending smirk on his face as he eyes his brother.

imagine chris seeing you in the back, with a bigger bouquet of white roses in your hands as you slowly approach with a soft smile on your face.

imagine how matt's smirk only grows as he watches chris' grip tighten on the stems of the flowers before he angrily tosses them somewhere on your neighbor's lawn before fixing his composure as you get closer.

imagine how chris almost fails at masking his anger as you finally reach the door and ask him jokingly with a smile, "what are you doing here, chris? miss me that much? or are you here because matt's here?"

imagine how matt would take a step back as a full fledged smile overtakes his features as he soaks in his brother's defeat. when you turn around and ask him why he's smiling he'll just tell you he's happy to see his brother, nothing odd from the two close siblings right, so you return his smile before inviting chris in and retreating with your flowers to find a suitable vase.

imagine matt grabbing chris' arm as he goes to walk past him and slyly whispering in his ear before letting him go with a shove.

"you're just too slow, try keeping up with me next time, yeah?"

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut

313 notes · View notes

clemissleepy · 5 months

Text

Beautiful Stranger

jeongin falls in love on his trip to a photoshoot.

part 2

warnings : none , pure fluff

wc : ~900

jeongin rushed into the train just as the doors were closing. he knelt over himself, panting as he heard the irritating 'ding' of the train's speakers. he cursed rather loudly at the traffic and idiotic drivers that had him stuck in the city when he had a photoshoot to attend.

he ran his hands through his hair, checking the time and the estimated time he would arrive back in seoul. he grunts a little, knowing he’ll be late. he messages his managers, preparing for the scolding he was going to receive. he grabs the train’s support pole to keep himself steady.

that’s when he finally took a moment to look up. he truly believes his heart stopped. a woman whose hair was curly, tied in two long braids that curved over her shoulders. her hoodie wrapped close to her frame and her jean shorts were just as baggy. her cheeks were his favorite tint of pink. she had matte makeup but glittering lips, a blessing to his eyes.

when she looks up, presumably to check where the train was, he falls even harder. her brown eyes were like that of a golden retriever's. her lashes were short and matched the comfortable aura she emitted. jeongin watches her bounce her leg to whatever she was listening to in wired earbuds. he doesn’t even look at his phone to press play on his own music.

he finds himself cradling the girl in a comfortable bed, soft weighted blankets wrapping them up. it's snowing outside, the window is foggy, but they huddle together and she feels like a personal heating pad. she nuzzles into jeongin's cheek and giggles. he is cupping her cheeks and running his fingers through her curls, gawking at how wonderfully soft and silky the strands glide in his hands.

he presses a kiss to her button nose, then each of her pink cheeks, then her forehead, and finally her lips. just a second of the kiss took him back to when he was a child with soft baby blankets cradling him.

jeongin looks around the room, unfamiliar at first. his room is not this shade of blue, he does not have such a gorgeous window to display the outdoors. but his sheets are beneath him, his pillow case rests beneath his head. his favorite flowers are blooming healthily in a vase on the bedside table.

he looks back at the woman curled up in his arms. there's a few light blue hydrangeas tangled in the woman’s hair now. she's dressed in a floral sundress, pearl earrings and a thick pearl necklace adorning her. she looks like she belongs in a painting with sunflowers and the brightest, clearest sky.

she cups his cheek, her hand is so unbelievably soft. she has short, white nails, just barely grazing his skin. she strokes it with her thumb, her lips stretching into a contagious smile. he believes she says something, but all jeongin can hear are the birds outside and the low rumble of the train on its tracks.

then, he's dancing. he's dressed in all white, a light blue tie on his chest. the girl is holding his hands, beaming up at him. there's a diamond ring on her hand, pearls surround her. the wedding dress she wears makes her look like a angel, as if she’d descended a beautiful stairway from heaven rather than falling. jeongin swayed with her, his favorite song playing subtly in the background. he spots his friends, his family, cheering him on.

he looks down at the woman. she now has her arms wrapped around his shoulders, muttering things he can't hear through her glossy lips. he leans in, his hand supporting her by the small of her back while he tilts her into a passionate kiss. her hair blows in the wind, there are people clapping and standing from their seats as he glides around the dance floor with his bride.

"now arriving in seoul!" the intercom announces on his train.

the girl is still seated, still on her phone. her hair is still in braids under her beanie, she is still in baggy shorts and a hoodie. there are no hydrangeas, there is no floral yellow sundress, he is surely not wearing a white suit and blue tie either.

but there are her pearls. they adorn her ears, perfect circles glistening in the light of the train. she laughs at something on her phone. her smile is the same as he imagined it.

he grabs his bag, in no rush whatsoever to loop it around his shoulder and exit. he wonders, gaze stuck on the angel on the train.

was she a gardener? were the pearls from her family? what was her favorite season? how many siblings did she have? where did she study?

he took hesitant steps onto the tiled station floor, watching her from his peripheral vision and he passed through the sliding doors. he watched the train accelerate into the tunnels, he watched her through the window and prayed to no one in particular that he would see her again.

the beautiful stranger. with curly hair, with pearls and pink cheeks, with a white smile and glossy lipstick.

he prayed to no one in particular that he would one day learn her name.

thank you for reading! sorry its not spicy lol

#skz #fanfic #skz x reader #skz fluff #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fluff #jeongin #yang jeongin #jeongin fluff #jeongin x reader #stray kids x reader #writing #Spotify #clem writes

54 notes · View notes

joshuacasaluna · 2 years

Text

Beautifully abstract shaped decorative vase with a soft white matte stone textured exterior.

#vase #white matte #stone textured #home decor #handcrafted

0 notes

anna-hawk · 8 months

Text

Red Blossom

Based on a deliciously hot fanart by @nkeiiin, whose art never stops inspiring me 🧡🧡🧡

Frank Castle x Matt Murdock

Summary: Frank Castle has an auto repair shop next to flower shop owner Matt Murdock. Frank finds himself regularly observing the florist moving easily through his plants and flowers. They haven't talked a lot, but after they mutually help each other out, they slowly get closer.

Rating: E 🔞 // Status: 6/6 // Current WC: 26,9k

Tags and warnings: Alternate Universe – No powers, Flower shop AU, Mechanic!Frank, Florist!Matt, slow burn, friends to lovers, fluff, explicit content, semi-public sex

Read it on AO3

Excerpt:

Frank was sitting at his desk in the manager’s office, and taking a long drag from his mug of coffee while he browsed through the more urgent invoices he had to send out. A loud, metal sound coming from outside his repair shop had him lifting his head and turning it towards the source of the noise. His office’s window was giving onto the corner of the narrow alley running to one side of his building. Right next to Frank’s shop and across that alley, was a flower shop, where Frank was currently watching a man in the process of rolling up the rolling shutters. Frank checked the time on his wristwatch and smiled to himself; 7.30 on the dot. The flower shop owner always arrived at the same time, right on time, five times a week. Since he tended to get to work before 7AM on most days, Frank had had the time to notice the ritual of his neighbor in the six months since he’d opened the repair shop in Hell’s Kitchen. During that time, they had exchanged a few quick words, but Frank hadn’t found out much more about him, both of them busy with their respective jobs. He knew the obvious, like his name, since it was written underneath the shop name on the storefront, that he was punctual, and most of all, that he was blind. The latter information was something that had Frank speechless whenever he saw Matt Murdock gracefully navigating the flower displays outside the shop, a large pot or vase in each arm, or showing his customers to this or that plant and flower, with no sign of the white cane he used when he arrived or left.

After outgrowing his previous auto repair shop in Queens and opening this one right next to a florist, Frank had expected Murdock to complain about the noise and the smells. Frank had walked up to the flower shop a couple of days after they’d opened up for business, to introduce himself and excuse any future racket. Murdock had smiled lightly and waved away Frank’s concern, but Frank had still waited for the other shoe to drop. The street they were sitting on was rather busy, meaning that Frank’s shop wasn’t the one making the most noise, but the place he’d bought used to be a row of three garages and caused minimal disturbance. Murdock had never said anything, however. He’d even gifted them a small potted plant a few weeks in. The plant was now sitting in Frank’s office and one of his employees was taking care of it because Frank had no idea how to look after anything green.

#frank castle x matt murdock #fratt #the punisher #daredevil #frank castle #matt murdock #fratt fanfiction #frank castle fanfiction #matt murdock fanfiction #frankmatt #mes fics #complete fic

77 notes · View notes

lanadelreyscokewhor3 · 2 years

Text

THE DINNER - M.MURDOCK

Pairing: Best Friend! Matt x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 840

Summary: after teasing you all night at a valentine's day dinner, matt requests some alone time with you, his best friend, to "talk".

Warnings: fingering, dry humping, daddy kink, size kink, swearing, petnames, praise kink, slight degradation kink, matt being a tease, alcohol mentioned, huge possession kink, choking, slight hint of breeding kink

notes: i whipped this up as a gift last night, because i love you all soooo much! happy valentines day lovies<3 mwah

“I don’t know about this Matty.” you giggled, beaming from ear to ear as his arms caged you in against the wall, locking your tipsy gaze on his soft lips as they moved.

“You don’t have to know silly girl. Don't you trust me?” he cooed, to which you nodded. Your heart hammered a steady rhythm against your ribs, and you need he could note its increasing tempo the closer his skin was against yours, the lower his voice got, huskness lacing his words like sweet venom

“Course I trust you! But what if they notice we’re gone?”

“They know we’re gone. I told them we had to talk.” he shrugged, a cheeky grin on his face as his other hand slipped down, locking the bathroom door beside the pair of you against the cool tile wall.

The night had started a few hours ago, a nice, candlelit dinner followed up with little rose vases and champagne during the Valentine's dinner you were at with so many other friends. They had hardly noticed the way his hand slipping under the white, crisp tablecloth in the dimly lit dining room, stroking up and down your thigh. Had hardly noticed how flustered you became whenever he had purred out your name, speaking on your behalf.

Oh Y/N will have this. She loves that. Isn't that right bun? It drove you insane. So of course, when he had escorted you from the table, they thought nothing of it- two friends talking. Taking a walk.

But here you were, panties in a twist as you peered up at him, chest rapidly rising and falling as you felt your reasoning falter. “Talk about what Matty?”

“Talk about the fact I could feel Frank's eyes on you the whole night when you're mine.” The possession was evident in his voice as he growled, causing your core to throb, thighs shifting together as an attempt to hide the fact you were dripping.

No use. He knew it, he could sniff you out like a hound on the prowl, his fists clenching in agony at the fact he couldn't breed you like a bitch in heat at this very second.

“B-but we aren't dating silly!” you chirped out, champagne causing you to hiccup as your hands slipped up to trail up his abs, playing with this stark black tie you loved so much.

“Mhmm I know. Just friends, yea?”

“The bestest of friends.” you smiled, eyes widening as his smirk widened, hand sliding up to cup around your throat comfortably, the other lifting up your hips up so your legs wrapped around his waist.

It was now you realized how much bigger he was then you, all large and beefy.

You wanted to bite him. That's the champagne. Champagne does silly things. But he looked so yummy in that suit…

“The bestest of friends hmm? The kind of friends who do this?” he murmured, squeezing just a bit tighter around your airways, a moan ripping through your vocal cords.

“Yea atta girl. You know how much I love those pretty noises you make angel. So eager for daddy hm?” You began to rut your hips against him at his words, savoring the way his words felt whispered against your ear, caressing your skin.

“M’so needy for you Daddy.” you whined gently, scared of being heard over the soft ambient piano music that streamed under the door from the main room. But you knew Matt wouldn't care. If anything, he’d want the entire block to know it was him making you feel this way, it was him who had you folding in seconds whenever you were together for too long.

“I know sweet girl, I could feel you pulsing all night. You've been so good, waiting. You know that?” he coaxed, hand slipping from your throat to tug at the crimson red fabric that was draped over your curves, dress now rumbled from your movements.

“Y-you were teasing me.”

“Was I? I didn’t notice.” he teased, slipping past your panties. “You take what you need from Daddy sweetheart. I know it's been so, so hard for you hm?”

You melted under his touch, turning into sand that slipped through his fingers as he cupped your mound, palm bumping your clit as you bucked.

“Need inside Daddy. Please!” you begged, clenching onto his suit for dear life as he clucked his tongue. Your lips parted as you clenched around his digit, now covered in your juices as he pumped his finger.

"S’tight angel. Just a lil thing, only able to take a few fingers yea?” he mocked, licking his lower lip at the sounds of the slick, your little pants and moans as you craved more than you could manage.

“S’okay baby, you've done it before, you can do it again. Make me so proud.”

“Please..” you breathed, shoulder straps slipping down your shoulders, breasts jiggling with each roll of your hips.

“Do whatever you need angel, because after we need to talk. And by talk, I mean have it my way.”

649 notes · View notes

courtforshort15 · 2 years

Text

Roses and Sunflowers

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem reader

Word count: 4,400

Summary: Matt longs for you, hungers for you in a way he hasn't for anyone else before. But is he too late?

Trigger warnings: none. Light angst with a happy ending.

Masterlist

Matt's lip curls at the scent of the flowers that waft through the office.

They're perched perfectly over on your desk, bathing in the sunlight pouring in from the window, and he imagines them as the typical, cliché rose; red and soft, with thorns carefully removed. Even with yours and his door shut, the presence of the scent is strong, almost staring him directly in the face, and he wants nothing more than to throw them viciously out the window and into the dumpster down below.

He longs to hear the vase shatter, shards of glass exploding at the bottom of the container, until there’s nothing left to piece together.

If he were a rose, he can't help but think he'd be the kind that was kept out of water for too long and left in a heat too sweltering, leaving his thorns still intact, but with petals wilting and drying and eventually falling off. Nothing left but a stem that might make you bleed.

You coo over them and sniff the bouquet randomly throughout the day, and Matt absolutely glowers, hands clenched at his sides, fingers no doubt turning white as they stretch over the knuckles he’d easily split if it meant you were always safe. It's not that the flowers smell bad, it’s the fact that the roses represent a level of sweet and soft he could never hope to achieve.

He glowers because it's the fact that he sent them to you.

Matt knows exactly why he's having the reaction he's having. Matt knows exactly why the flowers, sitting so innocently in the warmth of the sunlight, are offensive. He’s in love with you, earth-shatteringly, heart wrenchingly in love with you, and in the time he's taken to gather up the courage to say something, someone else has stepped in first.

He's spent the past few years rebuilding his life, stone after stone placed into a foundation that might let him begin to move past all the things that have happened to him, all the things that have happened because of him, and all the things that have happened despite him. It’s been a long, arduous journey towards a life that might not be as hard as he so often makes it to be, and he’d be lying if he said there wasn’t a part of him that thinks of you every time another brick is slid into place.

Matt has spent the last few months acknowledging the feelings he has for you; the way you're the first thing on his mind when he's pulled from his sleep, the way you're the last thing on his mind before he goes to bed, and the way you're on his mind every second in between. And while he's been working to make himself the best man he can be, working to make himself a fraction of the person you deserve, he's still never been convinced that he is worthy of you.

He aches for you. Desires you, hungers for you, longs for you.

But despite the way he's been painstakingly putting himself back together, despite the fact he is prepared to give anything and everything up to have you, he is forced with the realization that he…might be too late.

Daniel has stepped in first, and he's so angry that it is his inaction that has given this other man the space to do so. It is his inaction that has perhaps left the place in your life empty, when it could have been filled with Matt's love if he hadn't been too cowardly to say something.

It's only been a few dates with Daniel, he tells himself. Not nearly long enough for true attachment to form, though every time you walk into the office, the scent of another man’s hand on your cheek, the scent of another man's lips on yours, Matt goes insane. It’s a classic case of constricted breathing, tense shoulders, adrenaline seeping through every cell in his body, and Matt’s surprised people can’t see the way he vibrates with rage.

If he could still see, his vision would be filled to the brim with red. Vibrant, vicious red.

Your heartbeat briefly stutters when the flowers are delivered with a sweet note that you later read to Karen, and it makes Matt’s mouth go dry. The words Daniel included with the bouquet are kind and affectionate, but decidedly dull. Matt may have trouble expressing his feelings, romantic or not, but he would never write something so generic, so basic that the note could have been sent to anyone.

Whether it is date one or date one hundred, you deserve words that are carefully put together for you, and you alone.

Matt would pour his heart into a note like that. He would tell you he loves the way he can feel your mouth split into a wide grin when Foggy makes an awful joke. He would tell you he loves the way your soft skin feels against his when you help guide him to whatever destination is next. He would tell you he loves the way your voice gets higher in pitch when you're excited and passionate about something.

Love. Love. Love.

He’d never be able to stop listing the way he loves you.

Matt doesn’t know why, but the flowers and the note lead him to a final breaking point, a realization that he can't let you spend one more minute with someone who would never give you the right words you deserve. He can't spend one more minute pretending that he doesn't feel for you the way he does.

He may not be whole. He may not be pieced together in a way that fits with your own pieces. He may not even be able to give you everything you want, not with the complicated and messy and twisted life he leads. But he will give you everything he has anyway, even if it's not enough, and let you decide if it's something, if he’s something, you could want for the rest of your life.

And if it's not, if he's not…he will tell himself that at least he tried, that at least he is still capable of opening himself up like that, despite all the heartache and abandonment he’s experienced throughout his life. The idea of rejection sits heavily in his stomach, a sickness just waiting to claw its way out, but he forces himself to shove it down and move past it.

Matt intends to broach the topic carefully when he steps into your office as you're packing up to leave earlier than usual, no doubt wanting extra time for your fifth date (yes, he's been counting) with Daniel that evening. He intends to say things gently, say them in a well-practiced order that details how he feels, how he's felt for months, but every line goes out the window the moment you look in his direction.

"Don't go out with him tonight," he says instead, the words ripping themselves through his mouth before he can stop them, and he mentally curses at himself, nails digging into the palm of his hands, white crescents forming and stinging. You pause from where you're currently shoving your laptop into your computer bag, and he can sense the look of bewilderment you’re sending him like it’s been branded into his skin.

"What?"

He clears his throat, more nervous than he's ever been in his life. He’s gone up against actual ninjas, fought enemies who seemed to be more than human, and he hadn’t felt the fear he does at this moment. Matt continues on, though, knowing there’s really no way to backtrack now. The door has been blown wide open, and he’s going to step through it, regardless of the consequences, regardless of the way this conversation has the potential to shred the muscle beating rapidly in his chest.

"I said don't go out with him tonight."

"What are you talking about?" You ask, the tone of your voice still confused as you set your things back down on to your desk. Turning to face him directly, you place your hands on your hips. "Why not?"

"Because I just…I just don't want you to." It’s the lamest excuse he’s ever given to someone, and given the way he used to lie about the various bruises and cuts on his face to a man he’s known for over a decade, that’s saying a lot.

A startled laugh erupts from your chest, and Matt chases it as it bubbles past your lips and into the open air of your office. "You don't want me to go out with Daniel? Why? What's wrong with him?"

Matt cringes with the way your voice has taken on a twinge of defensiveness. The words wash over him, eye almost twitching at the sound of the other man’s name, the other man who he knows has had his lips on yours in the way Matt longs to. "Nothing is wrong with him. He's just not…" He trails off with a helpless shrug of his shoulders.

You don't let him stop there. "Just not what?"

"Me."

Matt swears all air leaves the room, vanishing in a sweeping swoop of a vacuum, and he feels like he might suffocate as he waits for you to say something.

The silence that follows is absolutely torture. At any given moment, Matt has the ability to hear a literal pin drop. But if one were to drop now, falling in the canyon between you and him, the sound would be nothing short of an explosion in his ear.

Yes, the silence is torture, but it's one he will gladly accept if it means he'll have you in the end.

"I shouldn't go out with him because he's not you?" You finally ask, the tone disbelieving. Your arms move to cross over your chest, and it’s as if you’re closing yourself off from him. His face twitches into a wince, knowing how incredulously you must be staring at him. He’s known you long enough to know the differences in your tones of voice, known and loved you long enough that he’s memorized every single cadence and lilt and shift that vibrates up from your vocal chords, and he knows without a doubt that this one is telling him you think he’s insane.

"I-yes. That's what I said." Matt steps further into your office, knowing without seeing the way you’re still standing stiffly next to your desk, your stance still defensive. There’s no turning back now, not when he’s put the words out there, cautious and bold at the same time, curling up and creating a chasm between you that he’s desperate to close. His heart is pounding his chest, and while your heartbeat usually drowns out all else in his life, he can’t hear much else besides the rushing in his ears.

"What does that even mean?" You sound frustrated, and he's not surprised, given how this conversation has popped out of nowhere. You yank a hand through your hair, pulling on the ends, and Matt hears a few strands rip and tear when fingers get pulled through knots. He yearns to be the one to run his fingers through your hair, yearns to feel the silk slide across his palm, and he knows he’d be more gentle with it than you are at the moment.

"It means that he's not right for you. It means that he's not good enough for you."

"And you are?" You ask almost shrilly, and while he might normally be concerned about what has caused your voice to hitch the way it has, he’s too wrapped up in the way the conversation is not happening the way he would have liked it to. “Is that what you’re trying to say?”

He laughs despite himself, and there’s a bitter edge to it. "No, I'm not worth a second of your time."

"Then why–"

"But that’s not going to stop me from asking for it anyway."

The twisted sort of quiet that closes rapidly around him is heavy. Matt can feel the tension surrounding him like a thick fog, one that is suffocating and too hot. It’s settling heavy in his lungs, and the longer he stands there, the more anxious he is to get out and flee the rejection he feels is coming.

Your cheeks flush, the heat of them standing out like a beacon that calls him to you despite your anger, and you shift anxiously from foot to foot. You're looking directly at him, and Matt has never felt so exposed in his life. He felt less exposed when Nobu tore his skin to shreds all those years ago, literally ripping him down to the strands and cords of muscle.

You’ve always been able to see right through him. He loves it most days, but right now he feels it might kill him.

Your voice is extremely hesitant when you respond, and he hates how he's the one who has caused it, hates that he’s caused even a single shred of doubt in you, even while he takes every single word and wraps them up under his skin. "You can't…you can't honestly be saying what I think you're saying."

"And what," he clears his throat again, "do you think I'm saying?"

"I think you might be telling me that you don't want me to go out with him because you want me to be with you instead."

Matt doesn’t respond, not verbally at least, because it feels like his throat is closing. Instead, he slowly nods his head, the action hesitant and jerky and unpolished.

"But that's crazy, Matt," you say, your voice shaking, hands lowering and trembling at your sides. He feels the way your head tosses from side to side in bewilderment, hears the way your hair swishes around you, the way it disturbs the warm air surrounding you. "Where is this coming from?"

"I…I've felt this way for a while," he says quietly, the words sounding halting and tentative, even to his own ears. His heart is threatening to punch a hole through his chest, and Matt has to force himself to stay calm. "Unfortunately it took someone else coming into the picture for me to finally say something."

You take a deep, shaky breath, and he can hardly believe it when you take a small step forward. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

Matt feels a sharp pain radiate throughout his body, starting in his heart and viciously spreading at a rate he’s helpless to control. "Nothing, if you don't want to. I just…needed to say something."

"Why now?"

"Because the thought of you being with someone else kills me." It’s simply said, leaving no room for a misunderstanding. The words are bold, even while his voice is quiet, but all hesitance is gone. You take a few steadying breaths, heart still racing, and Matt broadens his stance to withstand any blow you’re about to deal. He had walked into this room, ready to lay his heart at your feet, but the longer he’s in here, the more he begins to lose what little hope he’d had.

It’s almost shriveled at his feet, to be honest. Too brittle to pick up and salvage.

“Do you…is that how you really feel?” He nods his head, mouth dry, after you ask the question. A hysterical giggle bubbles up from your throat, startling the two of you, and hand flies to your mouth in a quiet gasp. “I’m sorry, I –”

Heart twinging, Matt cuts you off as he takes a slow step backwards. “Maybe…it’s best I leave.”

You make a strangled sound of surprise at his sudden withdrawl. "Matt, you’re the whole reason why I’m even going out with him," you blurt out, causing him to momentarily stop his backwards retreat out of your office before he continues again, more rushed this time.

Matt recoils, stumbling over his own two feet in a way that hasn’t happened in years, the sting of the statement a searing burn that spreads throughout his body. "I'm…I–"

"Shit…that's not–that's not how I meant that." There’s a flurry of movement when you take a few steps towards him, feet scraping against the carpet in your office. You move to place an arm on his hand, but he swiftly moves away, knowing your touch will burn in a way that is not remotely pleasant, the words still a scorching hiss raking down his skin.

"You don't have to explain yourself," Matt forces out, ignoring the way you suddenly seem desperate.

"No, Matt, please–"

He cuts you off again, trying to build a wall between you and him, needing a wedge to be driven between his declaration and the response he had been dreading, the one he felt he was getting now. "I didn't come in here to make you uncomfortable, or to ruin things between us. I just wanted you to know in case…you feel the same way."

You take a few more quick steps forward before he can turn around again, placing your hand on his arm, and it takes everything in him to not jerk away for the second time. "I'm going out with him because the man I really want has treated me as nothing but a friend. And I've been incredibly grateful for that friendship, so I haven’t wanted to ruin anything," you tell him in one breath, and if it weren’t for his hearing, he might have had an issue hearing each individual word as they blurred together.

There's a savage and instant uptick in his own heart, but he ignores it, unwilling to give into anything that's akin to hope until you've finished speaking.

"I thought that we maybe had some, I don't know…flirtation going on? But he's never said anything, so I've always figured he doesn't feel that way about me. And because he's never wanted more, I've made an effort to try and find someone who does."

Matt can’t think of a time he’s ever been shocked into silence the way he is now, and it takes everything in him to open his mouth and respond. The words are all but choked out, but he at least manages to say them. He’s fully aware of what you’ve just confessed, and he feels the urgent need to clarify.

"What if he wants more? What would you do if he told you he wanted more?"

There’s not a single word that displays even an ounce of hesitation. "Then I'd call Daniel and cancel our date in a heartbeat."

His voice is raspy as the sound is forced out. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“And you’re…sure? About that?”

“I’m sure,” you say with another step forward. “Daniel is a nice man, a really nice man. But he’s just been someone I’ve been seeing because I’ve been trying to move on.”

For the first time since the roses were delivered earlier that morning, Matt feels like he can breathe, and he’s greedy as he takes in a full breath, savoring how it feels sliding into his lungs. His chest expands and deflates with the breath, and he’s never felt so whole.

A slow smile catches on his lips, and he's unable to control it from sliding across his face. "Promise me you won’t move on, sweetheart."

His smile widens, his lips splitting into a grin so full it almost hurts, eyes crinkling at the corners, dimple on open display. His blood is still rushing in his ears, but it's a good sound, one filled with anticipation and excitement rather than the panic that had scalded every vein it weaved in and out of. “Cancel the date.”

“Promise me that if I cancel the date, we’ll try to figure out what more means.”

There's a sharp kick in your heart beat. "Yeah?"

Matt keeps his spot next to the door, but moves to lean against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest to help keep his balance as his body practically sighs with relief. Matt’s a sure-footed man, strength harshly beaten into and held in his bones and muscles, but he’s been stiff with nerves since he made the decision to step into your office and lay his heart at your feet, and the adrenaline slowly leaving his body makes him feel shaky.

“And you should probably let me take you out instead.”

You huff out a laugh Matt has long since memorized. “Tonight?”

“On a night where it’s not so last minute,” he tells you with an insistent shake of his head, the motion rapid. “You deserve something that is planned with you in mind.”

The matching grin that spreads across your face is one that he is sure must be blinding, and he’d gladly lose his sight from it all over again just to see it. You’re shaking with some sort of unbridled excitement, the heat of you flashing and burning and crashing against him, and Matt doesn’t think he’s loved you more than in this moment.

“Josie’s and horrible bar food tonight instead?” You suggest as you roll on to the ball of your feet, all but bouncing in place.

A smile is not enough to contain the exhilaration soaring through his system, so he lets out a quick laugh, one that you match readily. “I could probably make that work.”

Your chin tilts up in thought as you consider him. “But with the added stipulation that there’s a kiss at the end of the night.”

He lets out a startled laugh. “Making demands now, are we?” Matt finally takes a step forward, bringing him right in front of you, close enough to feel the heat that’s radiating from your body. He wants nothing more than to press every inch of you against every inch of him with not a single thread of fabric in between, but he supposes this is as good a place to start as any.

“Did you really expect anything else?” Your tone is as cheeky as the smile you must be wearing, he thinks. He reaches out and pushes a stray piece of hair off of your forehead and tucks it behind your ear. He may not know the color, but he knows it feels like silk, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough. His fingertips are calloused, the skin there coarse and rough, and the stark difference is as intoxicating as it is sobering.

Matt’s not sure if he deserves to touch you, not with the hands that have so much blood and grime and pain on them, but now that he’s here, he’s not sure anything could stop him from having his hands on you.

He pretends to think about it for a second, then shrugs. “No, not really. I’ll only accept your request if you grant mine.”

“And what’s your request, then?”

“You let me kiss you right now, too,” he says quietly as he trails a light finger down your cheek, and he hears your sharp intake of breath. You lean into the touch, which encourages him to take that last step towards you, so close that he’s practically brushed against you.

“I can agree to that,” you murmur just as softly, the words gentle as they caress his face. Your head tilts back slightly, ready to accept his lips on yours, and Matt doesn’t have it in him to leave you waiting for long. There’s just a split second between your words and his actions, and before he knows it, he’s leaning forward to press his mouth softly against yours.

It's like a surge of what electricity feels like against his sensitive skin, this kiss that surpasses any other time someone's lips have been against his, and before it even ends, he's longing for the second one.

When he reluctantly pulls away, he brushes the back of his knuckles down the length of your arm, smiling when the skin breaks out in goosebumps, each tiny ridge like braille under his fingertips, and Matt longs to read every inch of your skin just to see what it might tell him. The arm in question is currently curled around his waist, holding him to you in a way that suggests you’re breathless and having trouble standing, and it makes the heat boiling underneath his skin flare even brighter.

"One more thing,” he whispers, mouth just slightly above yours, hovering and inhaling every shuddering breath that leaves your lips. He can faintly hear your eyelashes flutter as you open your eyes, head still tilted up at his.

“Yes?”

His lips brush against the corner of your mouth. “Toss the flowers."

Your head pulls back ever so slightly in confusion, but the hand on your cheek brings you back to him when it shifts to cup your jaw instead. "Why–"

"Because roses are sweet, but they're not your favorite."

There’s another sharp intake of breath that is rooted in surprise. "And you think you know what is?"

He doesn’t respond. All he does is smirk and lean down to kiss you again, craving the way your lips feel like satin underneath his.

Of course he knows. How could he not?

—

A bouquet of sunflowers are placed on your desk the next morning, and the scent becomes a new favorite, second only to the scent of you wrapped around him.

They're accompanied by a note that is meant specifically for you, just a fraction of the words he's been wanting to tell you for months now, and the way your heartbeat falls to a complete stop, the way your cheeks flood will a warmth that echoes the way your lips had felt against his last night, the way you keep the note to yourself this time, tells him all he needs to know when it comes to the way you feel about him.

He knows you told him how you felt last night, but the physical reaction is a soothing balm over years of not believing he deserved even a second of the affection you had pressed against his lips so willingly. You've decided that the pieces of you fit the pieces of him like they've always been meant to be glued together to form one picture, and he'll do everything in his power to be worthy of that.

He's yours, he has been for months now, but now he knows you might be his.

#daredevil #matt murdock #human disaster matt murdock #marvel #i love him your honor #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fanfiction #daredevil x fem reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you #daredevil fanfiction

926 notes · View notes