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matt-murdockk · 1 month ago

Text

Sweet Nothing

pairing: matt murdock x reader

words: 5.1k

warnings: cussing, slow-burn, angst if you really squint but it's just fluff mostly, lack of proofreading (rip), pretty descriptive making out

summary: This is the story of how Matt Murdock met the love of his life one fateful day at the NYPD precinct.

a/n: guess who finally learned out how to make emdashes on Mac— hehehehe. some fluffy slow-burn for you <3 (i tried not to use pronouns for the reader but I'm so sorry if i accidentally used she/her anywhere)

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While Matt was charming, romantic, and thoughtful, historically— he hasn't been the best at relationships. Flings were okay, short-term was fine, but a proper relationship? Matt didn't think he deserved to be in one until he met you.

To him, you were a breath of fresh air from all his previous exploits. Elektra was a rush of adrenaline, a thrill, certainly an experience, but he knew he didn't like the side of him that she brought out. Karen was too close a friend to lose over a relationship and Claire, well, he had way too much respect for her, he wouldn't do that to her.

You, on the other hand, were what he swore was the right person at the right time. The right amount of calm and the right amount of chaos. He didn’t go looking for you. But you found each other anyway— almost by accident, almost like it was fate.

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

A regular phone call from Brett Mahoney about a possible case for Nelson & Murdock brought Foggy and Matt to the precinct one day. From outside, Matt quietly observed you before going in. You were in the holding cell, handcuffed, busted lip, and bruised knuckles. For all that you looked like you'd been through, Matt noticed that you were oddly calm.

Brett opened the door to let Matt and Foggy inside, the confusion in your face did not go unnoticed by the people in the room. "10 minutes, Foggy." The door shut behind him as he left, giving them a knowing look.

"You know it, Brett." Foggy helped Matt into his seat and took the empty seat beside him.

"Miss (Y/l/n), my name is Matt Murdock, this is my associate Foggy Nelson." Foggy gave you a half wave and smiled.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"Before we begin, have you been assaulted while in custody?"

"No, I have not. Listen, I didn't ask for a lawyer."

"We understand that you have been accused of assaulting a police officer. You have opted not to seek legal representation, is that right?"

"First of all, there has been a huge misunderstanding. Secondly, I still don't know why you're here, Mr..."

"Murdock," he reminded you.

"Right. Murdock. Sorry."

"We run a practice at Hell's Kitchen. Our firm is interested in representing you. And please, call me Matt," he clarified, presenting a warm, genuine smile.

"Well, Matt, while I am certainly thankful for your interest in representing me, I'm sorry to disappoint you, I don't need a lawyer."

"Trust me, you're going to," he said, amused at your confidence that you'll be fine.

"Oh, I know, I just already have one."

"Well, our job here's done. No cigars for Bess next time," Foggy retorted, as he got up, ready to leave.

"Foggy, sit down. Miss (Y/l/n)—"

"(Y/n), please."

"Very well. (Y/n), I understand that you already have representation. Probably from a big-time firm with 5 times the number of defense attorneys than we do. But here’s the thing. Those firms? They see cases. Numbers. Profiles. Headlines. They’re already calculating how your situation fits into their win column. I don’t work like that. My firm doesn’t work like that. We don’t take every case. We don’t chase the press. What we do is show up— completely. We sit down, we listen, and we fight like hell for the people who trust us. No fluff. No posturing. Just the work, and the truth, and someone in your corner who actually gives a damn about what happens to you next. So if you want the machine— fine. But if you want someone who’s going to look past the charges, past the headlines, and actually see you? Then you want Nelson and Murdock."

"Wow, okay, so, great sales pitch, love the energy, I really do. There's just one problem."

"What is it?"

"My boss is already on his way to represent me."

"I'm sorry— Boss?" " Yeah, what is it you do, exactly?" enquired Foggy.

"I'm a senior associate at Pearson Hardman."

"Well, that crashed and burned splendidly. Happy now, Matthew? We're poaching clients now. Oh and not just from any firm. No, sir. From Pearson fucking Hardman, Unbelievable."

"Foggy, it's okay. So, (Y/n), is your boss any good? Or..."

"I work for Harvey Specter."

"And that's our cue to leave."

Matt finally admitted defeat and got up to leave, following Foggy who was already at the door. While he was certainly ambitious, he knew he couldn't compete with that.

"Thank you for your time, (Y/n)."

As Matt turned toward the door, he caught the subtle quickening of your heartbeat— hesitant, uncertain, like you were rethinking your decision. His hand was just about on the doorknob, ready to leave but not quite gone, when your voice stopped him.

“Wait.”

Out of your line of sight, he let the faintest smirk curl at his lips. He just loved being right.

“What is it?” Matt asked, turning back to face you.

You hesitated for a beat, eyes flicking between him and Foggy, then down to your bruised hands in your lap. “I... I want you guys to represent me.”

Foggy blinked, taken off guard. “Really? Just like that?”

You exhaled slowly, the edge of defiance in your tone softening into something a little more tired. “Let’s just say… I’ve worked long enough at firms that care more about damage control than people. I don’t want a firm that’s already prepping their PR statement. I want someone who’ll actually give a shit.”

Matt nodded once, quietly. His expression didn’t change, but there was something solid behind it. Something settled.

Foggy let out a low whistle, then grinned. “Well… welcome to Nelson & Murdock.”

Cut to a little while later— Nelson & Murdock office. You, Matt, and Foggy sat around the table, the arrest report open in front of you. The air buzzed faintly from the overhead light, the hum of late-night tension settling over the room.

Foggy skimmed through the statement again, frowning. “Okay. Walk us through it. From the top.”

You leaned forward, elbows on the table, tone clipped but calm. “I was on the subway platform. Late. Waiting on the C train. There were maybe three other people around, none of them close.”

Matt tilted his head slightly, tuning in. Not just to what you were saying, but how you said it— measured, unflinching. No panic. No dramatics. Just facts.

“This guy comes over, starts making small talk. I make it clear I’m not interested. He doesn’t take the hint. Gets closer. I step back, tell him to stop. He grabs my wrist.”

“Forcefully?” Matt asked.

“Firm enough that I couldn’t just shake him off,” you replied. “So I pulled away. He grabbed me again. That time, I reacted. Hit him once, hard, in the face.”

The rhythm of your pulse didn’t spike when you said it. No guilt. Just certainty.

Foggy nodded slowly. “And then?”

“He goes down, pulls out a badge. Says he’s NYPD. I get cuffed.”

“He never identified himself before that?” Matt asked.

“No. Not verbally, not visually. No badge, no warning. He was in plainclothes, no backup, no indication he was on duty.”

Matt exchanged a look with Foggy, then turned his attention back to her. That steady confidence. The way you answered questions like you were already anticipating the next three.

“That’s a serious problem for their case,” Matt said, flipping through the paperwork. “Use of force in response to a perceived threat is protected— especially when there’s no identification of authority.”

You shrugged. “It won’t stop the department from backing him, though.”

Matt’s brows lifted just slightly. YOu knew exactly how this would play out— too many steps ahead for someone just hoping to walk out clean. You were smart. He liked that. Maybe more than he should.

“No,” Foggy agreed. “But it gives us a strong narrative, especially if we can get security footage or eyewitness statements from the other people on the platform.”

There was a beat as Matt closed the folder and set it aside.

“You’re sharp,” he said, more thoughtful now. “You know the statute, you know your rights, and you’re quoting case law off the top of your head.”

You looked at him, just a little amused. “That’s because I’ve spent years doing the same thing you do.”

A flicker of something moved across Matt’s face. He leaned forward just slightly.

“Why exactly are you not representing yourself?”

You smirked. “Because representing yourself while you’re the one in custody is a logistical nightmare. And because even good lawyers know when to bring in reinforcements.”

Foggy shook his head, amused. “Okay. That was... a good answer.”

You smiled, leaning back in your chair. “Now let’s go win my case.”

Matt smiled slightly. “Glad you picked us.”

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

They won.

Not easily, and not without a few uphill battles, but the charges didn’t stick. Between the platform security footage, two credible eyewitness statements, and some rather unflattering internal complaints about the arresting officer, the case quietly unravelled in court. Matt made his arguments clean and precise. Foggy handled the media brushback with that classic Nelson charm. You? You sat through the whole trial stone-faced and unshakable— until the verdict came in, and Matt swore he could hear the way your shoulders finally loosened.

You kept in touch after that.

Not constantly, no regular meetings or phone calls— just the occasional email. A few sarcastic text exchanges. One time, you sent Matt a voicemail of you laughing because Foggy had apparently called you "the one that got away." Matt saved it. He never said that part out loud.

It was about six months later when Foggy floated the idea.

“We could use another good lawyer,” he told Matt, over a plate of lukewarm takeout. “She’s smart, she’s sharp, and she gets us.”

Matt didn’t disagree. He didn’t say much at all, really. But the next morning, you got a call from him— short, polite, a little too formal— inviting you to "grab a coffee and talk opportunities."

You left Pearson Hardman three weeks later.

Karen was the first to greet you when you walked through the door on your first official day. She had already cleared space on the shared bookshelf, left a fresh legal pad on your desk, and warned you not to get caught in any of Foggy’s snack traps. You settled in like you were always meant to be there.

The four of you fell into rhythm faster than expected— late nights, tight wins, inside jokes. Karen became one of your closest friends before your second week was out. Matt had a habit of lingering in your doorway on the days he claimed he "wasn’t eavesdropping," but his smile always gave him away. You pretended not to notice. He pretended not to care."

The firm did better that year than anyone had predicted.

And you? You’d finally stopped feeling like just another cog in someone else’s machine. You felt like you were home.

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

It was late.

Most of the lights in the office were off except for the one at Matt’s desk, and the faint glow of your screen across from him. Karen had bailed with a yawn and a pointed “Don’t stay too long, you two.” Foggy left not long after with a granola bar and a salute.

Now, just you and Matt.

A few open case files, cold takeout, empty coffee cups.

“Your typing slows down when you��re annoyed,” Matt said, breaking the silence without looking up.

You didn’t even pause. “Your voice gets smug when you’re fishing for attention.”

“That doesn’t sound right,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Because it’s not flattering?”

“Because I don’t need to fish for attention,” he said. “Not when you give it up so easily.”

You looked up, unimpressed. “Oh no. You have caught me.”

“Seriously, that's how you respond to my flirting?”

You closed your file and leaned your elbows on the desk. “I didn’t realize ‘mild workplace bullying’ counted as flirting now.”

Matt tilted his head, listening closely. “That wasn’t a no.”

You smiled. “Murdock, if I were flirting, you’d know.”

“Oh?” he leaned forward, just slightly. “Go on, then.”

You mirrored the movement. “You sure you want to start something you can’t finish?”

His smile flickered into something smaller, quieter. “I’m not worried.”

“You should be.”

The banter fizzled for a second into silence, but it wasn’t awkward. Just... full. Like both of you were waiting to see who would blink first. Then you reached for the leftover fries between you.

“See, this is where you should’ve swooped in and offered to share,” you said, picking one up.

“I was being polite.”

“You’re full of it.”

Matt chuckled, leaning back in his chair again. “You make work a lot harder than it should be.”

You smirked. “If you’re blaming me for your lack of focus, I feel like that’s a you problem.”

He tapped a knuckle against the folder in front of him. “Pretty sure you’re a walking conflict of interest.”

“Oh, I am,” you said, popping a fry into your mouth. “But you already knew that.”

Matt bit back a smile, quiet again. Listening. After a moment, he said, “You know you could’ve gone back to a hundred bigger firms. Why stay?”

You glanced at him, surprised by the shift in tone. “Because this place feels like... me. Like it's mine, you know?”

Matt nodded slowly. “Feels like mine, too.”

There was something honest in his voice when he said it. Something unguarded. And for a beat— just a beat— you weren’t just two coworkers trading late-night barbs. You were something else. Something that lived in the space between laughter and hesitation. He broke the silence first.

“If you keep looking at me like that, Karen’s going to start planning our engagement party.”

“She already has,” you said. “She’s terrifying.”

He laughed, bright and real. You laughed too, leaning forward again, close without touching. And that was it. Just a moment. Not a confession. Not a move. But later, walking home, you’d think about it again— about how easy it felt, how his voice softened just for you, how neither of you pulled away.

Matt sat at his desk long after you left.

The city hummed outside the windows, faint and familiar— footsteps, traffic, a distant siren splitting the air somewhere on the west side. The kind of night New York never ran out of. But his attention was still in the office. Still in that moment.

You’d laughed. That real kind of laugh that started in the chest and softened everything around it. And for a second, he wasn’t Daredevil or Matt Murdock, the guy with a double life and a thousand reasons to keep people at arm’s length. He was just a man sitting across from someone who made him forget about all of it.

He hadn’t expected you. Not just the sharpness, or the way you fit in so seamlessly, or how you never once treated him like he needed to be handled. It was the way you challenged him. Matched him. Made the air feel lighter, even when the work was heavy.

And tonight— he’d heard it in your heartbeat. That shift. That hesitation. The quiet hope. It mirrored something in his chest he didn’t want to name. Because if he named it, it would be real. And real things could break.

He ran a hand down his face, exhaling slowly. He’d been careful. Always careful. With you, maybe too careful. Always toeing the line between professional and personal, between harmless teasing and something far messier.

But tonight? Tonight, the line blurred. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way you said this place felt like yours. Like you’d claimed it. Like you belonged here— next to Karen, Foggy... and him.

Matt had spent most of his life believing that the things he loved either left or got hurt. And yet, here you were. And he was terrified. Because the thought of you staying scared him more than the thought of you leaving.

Because for the first time in a long time, he wanted something he couldn’t fight for in court. Couldn’t earn by bleeding for it.

He just... wanted you.

And wanting had never ended well.

He leaned back in his chair and turned his head toward where you’d been sitting hours ago, the ghost of your laughter still echoing softly in the corners of the room.

He didn’t know what came next. But for the first time in a very long time, he hoped. And that was dangerous.

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

Matt had been trained to keep things close to the chest. To be quiet. Composed. Measured. He’d made a whole life out of it— knowing exactly how much to say, how much to feel, and how much to hide. But lately? He was starting to slip.

It started with small things. Lingering a second too long outside your office. Finding reasons to walk the long way around the building just so he wouldn’t pass you in the hallway. Not looking up when you said his name. Not teasing you like he used to. It was subtle. Barely noticeable to anyone else. But Foggy? Foggy clocked it immediately.

“Are you avoiding (Y/n),” he asked one day, without even looking up from his sandwich, “or just trying to die alone with dignity?”

Matt didn’t dignify that with a response. Which, of course, was the response.

He tried to get a handle on it. He really did. But every time you walked into the room, something short-circuited in his chest. It wasn’t just the way your laugh stuck with him hours later, or the way you challenged him in court, or how you always saved the last of the coffee for him without saying a word. It was everything.

It was the way being near you made him feel like maybe he was allowed to want more. And that terrified him. So he did what Matt Murdock always did when he felt too much— he shut down. Smiled less. Talked less. Pulled back.

From your side, it made no sense. One minute, Matt was your closest friend at the firm— bantering with you over contracts and flirting shamelessly during late nights at the office. And then suddenly, he was stiff. Cautious. Civil, but distant. Like someone had flipped a switch and now you were radioactive.

You asked Karen once if you’d done something. She blinked, confused, then immediately said no. Foggy just smirked and shook his head like he knew something he wasn’t telling.

It wasn’t until the case came in that everything started to unravel.

A mugging gone wrong. Client said Daredevil saved her. That wasn’t unusual, not in Hell’s Kitchen. But Matt had disappeared halfway through the intake. No explanation, no warning.

When he came back, he looked… off.

There was a stiffness in his step. His jacket was damp. You noticed a bruise blooming along the edge of his jaw, half-hidden beneath his collar. And the excuse he gave? It was nothing. Too easy. Too rehearsed.

That was the first moment you really looked at him. And from that moment on, it didn’t stop. You started noticing everything.

It started small. A scrape on Matt’s knuckles one morning when he swore he just "bumped into a railing." A bruise along his jaw two days later that hadn’t been there the night before. The fact that he always knew when sirens were about to pass. That he sometimes winced at conversations happening across the street and flinched when someone behind him opened a soda can too loud.

The way his hands sometimes trembled when he thought no one was watching. The bruises that never quite added up. The way his hearing— his attention— seemed to stretch too far, too focused. His absences. His silences.

You weren’t stupid. You were a lawyer, after all-- your entire job revolved around reading people, noticing what others missed. So you paid attention. Not obsessively. Not yet. But enough. Enough to clock that he disappeared some nights without explanation, always coming back the next day with a carefully worded excuse and that same “don’t ask” look in his eye.

And then came the clincher.

A client— a woman being threatened by her landlord— was suddenly protected. Completely. No restraining order had gone through. No legal intervention. But the man stopped showing up. Cold turkey. When you asked, she just said, “That guy in the mask. The Devil. He said I’d be okay.”

You stared at her.

Later that night, while Matt was in his office pretending not to eavesdrop, you walked in and dropped the case file on his desk.

“She said ‘the Devil.’ Not a devil. The one. Hell’s Kitchen’s own.”

Matt didn’t look up. “Lot of people throw that name around.”

“She also said he was calm. Polite. Knew her name. Said she had nothing to be afraid of anymore.”

He was quiet.

You folded your arms. “She said he didn’t sound scary. Said his voice was warm.”

That made him pause.

“You’re not even going to deny it?”

Matt finally leaned back in his chair and sighed. “...hi?”

You blinked. “Hi?”

He shrugged. “It’s concise.”

You just stared at him.

“Matthew,” you said flatly. “What the fuck.”

“I was going to tell you.”

“When? When I saw you parkour off a fire escape in a three-piece suit?”

“I— look, I didn’t want this to change anything. I didn’t want you to change how you looked at me.”

“Look, I’ve been working beside you for over a year. And you didn’t think, at any point, to maybe mention that you moonlight as a one-man SWAT team?”

“I was trying to protect you.”

“Well, good job, Matt. Really nailed it.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Then leaned forward slightly, voice lower. “Listen, I know you're upset. I would be too. I didn’t tell you only because I care about you. Because this thing, what I do— it’s brutal. And if anyone ever found out how much you mean to me...”

You blinked. That shut you up. For a second.

“Oh, so I mean something to you now?”

“I think that’s been fairly obvious.”

Matt noticed the way your heartbeat changed when he said you meant something to him. He figured this was a bad time to bring it up, although he smiled to himself at what that meant.

“I’m not mad that you’re Daredevil.”

That made him pause.

You went on. “I’m mad that you didn’t tell me. That you didn’t trust me enough to know. But... I get it. I really do.”

Matt didn’t say anything. Just listened. Really listened.

“You protect people. That’s who you are. And I don’t mean the mask or the fists or any of that— I mean you. The guy who goes to court for tenants getting pushed out of rent-stabilized apartments. The guy who sits through paperwork and trials and still somehow finds time to help people when the system doesn’t. So yeah, I get why you kept it quiet. I would’ve done the same.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Whatever he expected, it wasn’t this.

You stepped a little closer. “Would it have been easier to hear it from you directly? Sure. But I also understand why you didn’t. You’re trying to keep people safe. That’s kind of your whole thing.”

“I didn’t want to put you in danger.”

You gave him a look. “Matt. I’m a defence attorney in Hell’s Kitchen. I’m already in danger.”

He huffed a laugh, tension slipping just slightly.

“And besides,” you added, “it’s not like you told everybody.”

Matt winced. “Karen and Foggy know.”

“Splendid,” you muttered. “I’m last to know. That feels great.”

He opened his mouth to explain, but you waved him off.

“It’s okay. Really. I get it. You didn’t think I could handle it, or maybe you were just scared of what it would mean. Either way, I want you to know I still look at you the same way. Hell, I think I respect you more now."

His expression softened— like something in him untangled all at once.

“And Matt?” you said, quieter now. “I'm still here. I’m not going anywhere.”

That undid him more than any kiss could have. Matt Murdock was already in love with you.

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

Weeks passed. Then months.

You slipped into the parts of his life he never thought he'd share with you— quiet nights on the couch with cold tea and warmer glances, half-finished cases strewn between your desks, your voice low and steady on the phone as you helped him stitch up a gash at 2AM because Claire was out of town. You didn’t flinch at the bruises anymore. You stopped asking where they came from. Not because you didn’t care— because you knew he’d tell you if he could.

You joked that you were his unofficial dispatcher. He joked that you were the only one keeping him alive. It was good. Better than good, most nights. You were steady, sharp, present in a way that grounded him even on the worst days. You kept him tethered.

But even the strongest anchor can’t keep something from drifting if the pull is strong enough. It had been building.

After a particularly brutal stretch— three back-to-back nights of Daredevil coming home bleeding and bruised, a botched sting, a kid who didn’t make it— Matt changed.

He got quieter. Tense. He stopped calling when he was out late. Stopped dropping by your place after patrols. Stopped letting you patch him up. When you showed up with food one night and found his apartment dark, he didn’t even text to say thanks. You let it go. Once. Twice. Then you stopped letting it go.

It was almost midnight. The city was soft and silver around you, the streetlamps humming like old secrets. You’d waited for him— on the pavement outside the office, case files abandoned inside, takeout cold and forgotten. When he finally turned the corner, hoodie up, bruised along the cheekbone, your blood was already simmering.

You stood before he could say anything.

“Want to tell me what’s going on?”

Matt paused. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Bullshit,” you said. “You’ve been dodging me for weeks. You come back barely stitched together, and suddenly I’m a stranger? What, I only exist when you need to be sewn back together?”

“You knew what you were getting into.”

That hit harder than it should’ve.

You crossed your arms. “I told you I could handle this. That I was here because I wanted to be. You don’t get to push me out every time things get hard.”

Matt’s jaw tightened. “I never asked for your help.”

You stared at him. “Wow.”

“I didn’t,” he said, voice lower now. “You inserted yourself. You wanted this. You stayed.”

“Because I care about you, you idiot,” you said incredulously.

He looked away. “If this isn’t working for you—”

“Don’t,” you warned. “Don’t turn this around on me.”

“You don’t have to stay.”

You flinched. “So that’s it? You’re just giving me an out?”

“I’m saying,” he said, sharp now, “if you don’t want to keep doing this, you can stop. I’m not going to hold you here.”

Your chest burned. “Right. Got it. Loud and clear, Murdock.”

“Good. Glad we're on the same page.”

"Fine."

“Fine.”

You turned. He turned. The silence between your retreating footsteps felt louder than anything either of you had said.

You made it maybe ten steps before you turned on your heel. At the same time, Matt doubled back from the other end of the block. You both stopped mid-step.

“This is stupid,” you said.

“I know,” he echoed.

You walked back to each other like it hurt to be apart even for that long. Stopped just a few feet shy of touching.

Matt ran a hand through his hair, exhaling hard. Then, after a second— calmer now, but still visibly unraveling— he said, “You do realize what’s going on, right?”

You tilted your head. “You mean us shouting at each other in the middle of the street like deranged theatre kids?”

He gave you that small, crooked smile, the one he only let slip when it was just you. “I mean this,” he said, gesturing to the space in between you.

A beat. Then you laughed, soft and breathless. “Oh yeah. For two Ivy-educated lawyers, we are extremely oblivious people.”

“Painfully,” Matt said, taking one slow step closer. “Embarrassingly.”

You looked up at him, heart thudding. “Do we keep pretending? Or...”

“I don’t want to.”

“Oh, thank god,” you whispered.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t hesitant. Wasn’t cautious. It was months of built-up tension, late nights, shared space, quiet devotion, and almosts finally snapping into something real. His hands cupped your face. Yours gripped the front of his jacket. He kissed you like he’d been waiting for permission— and now that he had it, he wasn’t wasting time.

Before you could breathe, your back hit the wall. The brick was cool, sharp against your spine— nothing compared to the heat of him. His mouth crashed into yours, rough and hungry, all the restraint he’d held onto suddenly gone.

You gasped, and that was all he needed. His body pressed flush against yours, arm braced beside your head. One hand slid down, catching your waist and holding you there like he wasn’t letting go anytime soon. You kissed him back just as fiercely, your fingers threading into his hair, tugging. That made him groan— low and quiet and right against your lips.

The kiss deepened— messier, more desperate. He was everywhere. Warm mouth, steady grip, chest rising hard against yours. You barely registered the moment your hand slipped beneath his jacket, over the fabric of his shirt, just needing to feel something more. When you finally pulled back— barely— your forehead rested against his.

“That was…” you started, still catching your breath.

Matt laughed, voice rough and low. “Yeah. That was.”

You smiled, eyes fluttering shut for a second. “We are going to be so annoying now.”

He grinned, thumb brushing along your jaw. “We already were.”

575 notes · View notes

i2rizz · 21 days ago

Note

Hello again! How would Isagi, Kaiser, Rin & Sae react to 'Reader that's bad at kick the ball' stealing a ball from them? Just a lucky, well-timed little kick that's too simple for their galaxy brains to calculate.

Hello love :))

I havent been active much bc life aint easy but oh well

Bad at kicking the ball!reader stealing a ball from them

Isagi Yoichi

He had the entire play mapped out. Vectors. Field awareness. Enemy positioning. Your angle was nonexistent. Statistically, you shouldn’t even be in the equation.

Yet here you are. You, who once tried to kick a stationary ball and fell backwards, just poked the ball clean from under his foot while he was mid-monologue about "optimal scoring theory"

He freezes. The simulation glitches.

"...Did you predict that?" he asks, stunned.

You're already 10 feet away, chasing the ball like a toddler in a bounce house. He’s still standing there, eyes wide.

"She... No, there’s no way. That wasn’t positioning, that wasn’t reflex—it was... was that luck?" He starts overanalyzing your clumsy shuffle like it was a divine move from a higher dimension.

You trip over your own foot, and he whispers, "Genius...?"

Lil bonus-

You: "I sneezed mid-kick"

Isagi, scribbling on a napkin: "Genius. Weaponize it."

Michael Kaiser

Kaiser is pissed. And confused. But mostly pissed.

He was dribbling at half-speed, trying to look hot while giving you a fake chance. You, in return, flailed your foot out in a desperate, noodle-armed attempt—and actually tapped the ball right between his feet and made off with it.

There’s a long silence.

He slowly turns his head, blond hair flipping dramatically.

"...What the hell was that?" he says, genuinely offended.

You grin. "I stole it. Fair and square"

"From me?"

He jogs up to you, mock-serious. "Okay, okay, okay. Let’s try that again. I’ll give you a real chance this time" He flicks the ball up. "Come on, lucky feet. I dare you"

You trip over your shoelace while trying and faceplant in front of him. He immediately takes a picture.

"You peaked today. You’ll never be this cool again"

Rin Itoshi

Rin doesn’t talk much. Especially not during drills. Especially not to you, the gremlin of the pitch, whose best soccer move so far has been "accidentally tackling the cone"

So when you randomly poke the ball from him mid-dribble and scamper off looking proud as hell—his brain shuts down.

He blinks once. Then again.

He walks after you, slowly. No words. Just silent judgment.

You stick your tongue out at him and hold the ball above your head. "I stole it~!"

He squints. "Give it back"

"No"

"...I will literally pick you up"

You giggle. He does. You flail like a cat in a bath. The ball rolls away.

He retrieves it wordlessly, drops it at your feet again, and sighs.

"You’re annoying"

You do a victory dance. He squints again.

"I'm calling Ego. You're getting drug tested"

You wink. "Scared of me, Itoshi?"

He mutters something that sounds suspiciously like "you're an idiot"

Sae Itoshi

He's being lazy as hell-just doing light dribbles, occasionally shooting, hair tousled like he rolled out of bed. You're trying your best, and Sae's trying not to look like he was forced to be there.

You’ve got the foot-eye coordination of a baby duck. You couldn’t score if the goal begged you. So when you sneak up during a casual jog and kick the ball out from under him with all the grace of someone who’s never played a sport before… he just watches it happen in slow motion.

Then looks up at the sky like he’s asking the gods why.

"Huh," he says.

"Did I do good??" you beam.

He looks at you, unblinking. "No"

You frown. "What? I stole the ball!"

"That wasn’t skill. That was divine intervention" He bores his eyes at the ball, muttering, "I’ve trained for years for this, and you get the lucky goal. I hate this timeline"

Sae stares at the ball a lil longer, then you. Then just walks away.

You: "Wait, are you mad?"

Sae: "I'm not emotionally available enough to process that level of embarrassment"

He’s dramatic for five hours. Still makes you dinner though.

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nvxzaa · 23 days ago

Text

── .✦ Simple thing

Masterlist

Pairing : Han Jisung x reader

Word : 828

Genre : fluff

Warning : none

It had been a year and a half since they'd been together. A year and a half since Han had fallen in love with a girl like few others: Yn. A girl so simple it was almost disconcerting.

She never wore brand names, never went crazy for luxury items, never asked for anything. She lived with little, and was sincerely happy about it. That was the beauty of it. The most disarming. Han, who had seen it all, experienced it all, owned it all... he'd been marked by it. By this simplicity that could not be faked. Yn calculated nothing. She was content with what she had, and she did it with such touching naturalness that it was enough to turn his heart inside out.

And yet, despite that-or because of it-she hadn't wanted him at first.

"You're an idol, Han."

She'd looked him straight in the eye as she said this, arms crossed and face serious.

"You're just the opposite of me. I have a normal life. I'm simple. You don't need someone like me."

But he'd just smiled. Because he already knew he wanted her. He hadn't let go. He'd insisted, redoubled his efforts, found a thousand excuses to bump into her, a thousand pretexts to talk to her. It had taken weeks for her simply to give him her number, and even longer for her to agree to see him again. And today, every second spent with her reminded him why he'd fought. Yn was his peace.

That day, he received a call in the middle of the afternoon.

- Hello?" he answered, his voice still a little sleepy.

- Han... I've got something to ask you. A bit embarrassing...

From her voice alone, he knew she was uncomfortable.

- Have you been crying? What's the matter, baby?" he asked, straightening up on his bed.

- No... no, it's nothing serious. I'm just embarrassed to ask you this.

- Don't worry, tell me.

A little silence.

- Would you like to... buy me something? I'm really sorry to ask this, I swear I'll pay you back as soon as I can. But I don't have any change on me, and my mom took my card...

Han frowned, confused.

- Wait, what? Your mother took your card? But you're over 18, you've been vaccinated, you're working, you've got your own income, how can she take away your bank card?

- I don't know... it's my mother. She says I make too many successive purchases... successive? Is that how you say it?

- ...Yeah, I think so," he replied, smiling in spite of himself.

- There you go. So she took my card. And I just wanted to buy a little something. I swear, it's nothing. And I'll give you the money back, I promise.

Han breathed softly.

- Yn... you've got to stop apologizing for existing, you know. Come to the dormitory. I'll give you my card. And you don't have to pay me back.

- Are you sure...?

- I'm in love, not stupid. Come on.

A little later, she arrived at the dormitory in an old hoodie that hung over her shoulders, a crumpled tote bag in her hand. He opened the door and immediately drew her into his arms. She snuggled in without saying a word. Her perfume smelled of fresh sheets and hand cream. He kissed her hair before taking out his card.

- Here. Go buy your "little things". Take your time.

She left after a final kiss on his cheek.

He received no messages for two hours. Then she returned, exactly as she had left. Except that she was holding a large glass jar in her arms, which she placed carefully on the table before handing him back his card.

- Thanks Han...

- Stop it... tell me what you bought.

- Felt-tip pens," she replied with a small smile.

- ...Felt-tips?

- Yeah, felt-tips. All mine are dead. They're for coloring. And... I made something for you.

She gently pushed the glass jar towards him. Inside, hundreds of tiny pink paper hearts, all meticulously folded, filled the jar to the rim.

- A heart for every day I've thought of you. Right from the start. I used to make them on the sly, on the nights you didn't sleep at home, when you were on tour, or in the studio.

He stood there, mouth open, completely flabbergasted.

- You used my card... to buy markers?

- Well, yes. I told you it wasn't much...

He looked at her, then at the jar, then at her again. Then, without a word, he stood up to take her in his arms, squeezing her so hard she had to tell him to breathe.

- You have no idea how much I love you.

- If you keep squeezing like that, I won't even have enough air left to say "me too", she murmured with a smile.

He laughed softly against her, his heart swelling with quiet, immense, simple love - just like her.

#skz #skz stray kids #skz x reader #x yn #stray kids #han jisung #han x reader #han x y/n #han jisung skz #stray kids jisung #skz han #han x you #x reader

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mochinek0 · 1 month ago

Text

Daminette December: 13-In Sync

Damian arrived to Paris, using the GPS to locate his wife. She was pinged in the park, near her place. When he arrived, he saw she was surrounded by people yelling at her. A tall boy knocked her over and he quickly stepped in.

"Habibi?" Marinette questioned, as Damian helped her up.

Just as Kim was about to hit Damian, Marinette grabbed his wrist and flipped him over her shoulder. Everyone froze.

"What the fuck?" Kim whispered, still reeling from the throw.

"Since when can you do that?" Nino shouted.

"Always." Mari smiled, "It's what I was trained for."

"Who the fuck would teach someone to do that?" Alya cried out.

Damian smirked, "My mother. She made sure my wife could keep up with me."

"Wife?" Alya shouted.

"Since when are you married?" Max asked, trying to run calculations in his head.

"We were married when we were three years old." Marinette expressed, "You could call it a Political Marriage."

"Huh?" spoke Nathaniel.

"But-" began Nino.

"Our parents insisted." Mari spoke, "I just remember waking up one day and being dressed up. They walked me down a long corridor and said 'Here is your new family' and left. I never saw them again; not that I remember them, anyways."

"Tom and Sabine-" Kim groaned.

"Work for my family." Damian stated, "They ensure that she is provided for. They are not her parents or family."

The class stood silent.

"What about Adrien?" shouted Alya.

"Yeah!" Nathaniel agreed.

"You're bullying Lila because-" Kim winced, as he tried to get up

"I'm not bullying her." Marinette sighed, "She's nothing but a pathetic liar and you all keep listening to her. Even Adrien knows how pathetic she is, but he wanted her to make friends. He thought you would be smart enough to figure that out."

They looked at her confused.

"What do you mean 'smart enough'?" Max pressed.

Marinette turned to Alya, "What happened to fact checking, Alya? Does it not count when it's your best friend saying bullshit to you?"

"Huh?" Alya questioned, upset.

"Why haven't you interviewed Juleka or Luka about their father, Jagged Stone? Why haven't you gotten an exclusive, directly from the source about his 'Great niece'?" Marinette questioned.

Alya remained silent. It had never crossed her mind to get that type on interview. She didn't want to admit she had forgotten he had been there for the twins birthday a few years ago. Juleka and Lila were close; it would have been an amazing interview.

"I-" she began.

"Why didn't you interview Rose and her friendship with Prince Ali?" Mari pushed again.

"But-" Alya tried to reply.

"Or is it because they met through a children's charity event for pediatric hospitals, not an environmental project like Lila does?" Marinette continued, with a smile, "Is it any wonder that they might 'ignore me' , but not bully me, like you?"

The crowd fell silent, trying to figure out when was the last time Juleka and Rose were apart of their group.

"Half the people she talks about are dead. Half of her illnesses or disabilities don't make sense." Marinette sighed.

"Hey!" shouted Kim, but he was ignored.

"And when you look them up, they are described somehting completely different than what she claimed." Marinette pushed harder, "Why did Max never get interviewed? She saved his life, when I threw that rolled up paper napkin! I'm sure you have evidence about how deadly those can be or is it because deep down, you know it's bullshit, but you just love the attention?"

"You're lying." Alya whispered, struggling to find her voice.

"Marinette hates liars." Damian spoke.

"Should I call the authorities?" he asked, pulling out his phone.

"No Habibi." Marinette smiled, "It's alright; I just won't hold back next time."

Marinette stepped into Alya's personal space, "You better tell that Bitch, she better watch the next words that come out of her mouth because if I 'bully' her again. If she has a black eye or an injured wrist, she'll get one for real. She won't have to wear make up to pretend and this time, she'll wear the proper braces on her 'injuries'."

Alya's breath hitched. Marinette had never been this forward about her dislike of Lila.

"Same goes for all of you." Mari spoke, taking a step back and smiled, "You touch me, I'll break what you need most. Nathaniel's dominant hand. For Kim, a leg for swim practice. Maybe some head phones, a cellphone, or an AI. I'm done playing nice with people who are not my friends."

"Well, we'll sue you!" Alya cried out, thinking it would scare Mari.

Damian smirked, "I haven’t introduced myself; I'm Damian Wayne, son of CEO Wayne Enterprises. I'd shape up if I were you, Miss Blogger. We do not hire tabloid reporters at the Daily Planet."

"Huh?" Alya questioned, feeling the floor give out underneath her.

Damian made sure she had her full attention on him, "You bullied my wife and heiress to the Wayne fortune. The same Waynes who own the Daily Planet. She informed me it was your dream job, I believe, Habibiti."

Mari scoffed, "Don't bother putting my name down, as a reference, if you still want that job. Better shape up now, before it's too late."

Damian nodded, "Lois is very thorough in her investigations."

Alya said nothing as they walked away. The few there, realized they had messed up. Marinette had let them walk all over her; she built up their confidence and torn them down in five minutes.

Adrien quickly removed the miraculous of destruction, tossing it to his floor. He clutched his hand in pain, a faint pink glow around his ring finger.

"Plagg." He hissed, "What's going on?"

Plagg stared at him and then floated down towards his ring, "Ladybug……found her soulmate."

"I know!" he shouted, as his hand continued to throb, "I'm-"

"It's not you, Kid." Plagg announced.

"Huh?" Adrien questioned, forgetting the pain.

"That's why the ring made you take it off." he answered, "You are no longer worthy of it."

"No!" Adrien shouted, "That…That can't be true!"

Adrien reached for Plagg and the miraculous, but as soon as he touched it, he felt burned again. The pain, so intense, it made him drop to his knees.

Plagg looked at him, writhing in pain, "I'm sorry, Adrien. I really did like you." before flying out the window.

"Plagg!" Adrien cried out, "Come back!" but he didn't listen.

Plagg entered Marinette's room with his ring. From the shadows, Damian emerged, startling the Kwami of Destruction. Plagg cackled and dropped the ring in his palm.

He turned to Marinette, "He's good."

Mari smiled, "He's my husband."

As Damian slipped the ring on his finger, a jolt went through them. Tikki and Plagg looked at each other.

"You are finally in sync, with your soulmate." Tikki announced.

"The kind of soulmate Chat Noir kept insisting we were?" Marinette questioned, looking to her husband.

"Yep." Plagg cackled, "That's the one. Kid had it right; it just wasn't him."

'I'm glad our honeymoon is finally coming around.'

'Is that right?'

"You ….You can-" Marinette began, blushing red.

'Read your mind? Yes; as can you.'

Damian picked up Marinette and placed her on his lap.

"I love you." he whispered.

Marinette kissed him, lightly on the lips, "I love you, too."

'You only need to wait a little longer, Habibi, and soon you will be home with me.'

'I know your mother's rule, Habibi. Soon your marriage will be official and I will never have to leave your side.'

'I shall remain in Paris until we defeat Hawkmoth.'

'Gotham won't know what hit them upon our arrival.'

'I wonder what Father's face will look like.'

Marinette giggled an curled deeper into her husband's embrace.

"You think he'll like me?" she whispered.

"Whether he does or not, you are my wife and I will follow you." Damian responded, "We will go where you are comfortable."

'As long as I have you, nothing matters.'

@maribat-calendar-events

TAG LIST- DAMINETTE: @meme991001 @umbreon-worshipper @stainedglassm @jasmine-the-fox @psychicdelusionwerewolf @vixen-uchiha @mysteriouschar @missmadwoman @kanamexzeroyaoifangirl @dissarraymania @tundra1029 @abrx2002 @mrsjacuinde @ledalasombra @animegirlweeb

UNSPECIFIED- @animeweebgirl @a-star-with-a-human-name @alysrose-starchild @fandom-trapped-03 @dood-space @moonlightstar64 @saltymiraculer @marveldcedits20 @09shell-sea09 @icerosecrystal @insane-fangirl-of-everything @blueblossombliss @nickristus-dreamer @megawhitleycalderonpaganus @tigresslily @legodetectivemalsblog

#daminette december #daminette december 2024 #damian wayne #marinette dupain cheng #marinette x damian #damian x marinette #arranged marriage #marinette al ghul #mlb x dc #dc x mlb #mochinek0 #soulmates #in sync #protective marinette #marinette is done #mind readers #tikki #plagg

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snakeredbirdbatkatana · 11 months ago

Text

Clone baby AU TimKonBartCassie

Part 1

"Don't be mad."

Tim is more than aware he might not be the most sane, he also is more than aware that sometimes he does things that can be considered rage inducing or morally wrong but he can't say he regrets his choices.

Especially when she's seven pounds four ounces and just holding her makes him ready to burn the whole word down.

A perfect blend of him, Kon, Bart, and Cassie which oddly enough was extremely difficult to do since as it turns out genetic sequencing which is already absurdly complicated gets even worse when you add two more people.

She's perfect.

It was a spur of the moment decision a nightmare that drove him right back into the center of his grief.

He was staring at his previous cloning calculations and for a moment he was so incrediblely selfish.

He wanted a piece of his friends proof in a way of how deeply devoted he is to them. Something that no matter what couldn't be taken from him, something he could love unconditionally.

In a darker part of his mind he admits that the baby, his child who is incredible could have been just his and Kon's a half kryptonian but in his experience that is still too mortal.

But combined with a speedster and demigod he might have just made an unbeatable weapon. Not that his little girl will ever be that, he won't allow it.

"Tim is that a baby?" Kon gasps.

He only had held her for five minutes the greatest thing in the word had only been alive for ten minutes before he raced to titans tower holding his precious cargo.

All of them, the other parents? His friends sitting peacefully watching some program completely unaware of what's he's done. Not that it stayed that way for long.

"Is that Luci?" Bart asks.

All of them turn even Tim completely shocked his entire explanation that he had been planning for the last few hours gone with one sentence.

"Bart do you know this random baby? Also Luci what kind of name is that? Tim why do you have a baby?Cassie demands trying to sound stern but everyone can tell is beyond confused.

Bart who had gotten up walks not an once of speed the calmest any of them have ever seen, over to him a soft smile directed at apperently Luci although Tim agrees wth Cassie it's a weird name and not what he was planning.

"Our son, and Luci is a nickname, and if I'm right Tim just spent the last twenty four-ish hours creating him."

Before he can comprehend half of what Bart just said. Luci?

Is being cradled head perfectly surported by the speedster along with soft cooing from said speedster looking so natural as if fatherhood was created just for him.

Finally he finds his voice.

"Daughter, but Bart is right she's ours."

A giggle interrupts the cooing before a smirk paints Bart's face.

"No it's definitely son but it will be a good few years before he's able to voice that specific issue, not that it's much of an issue with all the money your daddy has isn't that right little lightening?"

And once again Bart is back to being absurdly attractive holding their child that Tim is getting a feeling he had prior knowledge of. Who also is trans? Maybe? which is completely fine of course but back to the whole Bart clearly knows something.

"Imp, ok I get the whole Rob made a baby with our DNA thing. No offense but I'm not exactly surprised Sunshine, your crazy we love that about you, but Bart why are you talking like you already know them."

Kon asks sounding very tired which Tim is a little offended by, he's not crazy.

Also how dare he be so accepting of Tim's cloned child as if this is Tuesday and Tim does this everyday he definitely does not, he's not Batman well ok maybe a little bit like him but still.

Wow Tim is way to sleep deprived if this is his inner monologue right now.

"Because I do. Lilith right? That's the name you had in mind apperently he doesn't actually mind you going with that for now since in his own words it inspires his much scarier name. God I love that kid."

Tim blanks.

He swallows throat suddenly really dry.

"Bart did you go to the future?"

He is trying to process but is now very scared is a time line fractured? Could his child not exist, and nevermind the whole Bart apperently already has insider info on the child his child that Tim just made ten fucking minutes ago.

"Oh no nothing like that."

He laughes out as if Bart hasn't been sitting on life changing information for who knows how long. Which is also extremely hypocritical of him considering secret child and timeline shenanigans that he was just panicking over.

"Our wonderful, gremlin, of a child ran into me actually some evil rouge with Time Travel powers which was a whole thing."

He pauses clearly rejoicing in some memory of their child that again Tim you know his mother wasn't privy to. Even though Tim is a man which would make him Dad but he created the baby so he should have been the first to have fond memories.

"I went to interrupt said fight not knowing and your child, yah Robie he was hundred percent your child, threw a DNA test in my face told me to get out of his way and absolutely demolished the dude before who I believe and I am just speculating here, was your brother's kid grabbed the dude and threw him into some weird portal before vanishing."

Tim is gonna lose his fucking mind his baby who he just created.

Grows up to be a superhero which alright not surprising, but also apperently one of his siblings has a child also not surprising. But they apperently travel through time together and cause chaos how fucking lovely he is starting to feel really guilty about everything with Bruce.

Oh my god he has to tell Bruce. But first.

"Which sibling?"

He doesn't actually know what's he's hoping for maybe Dick's kid yah, a sunshine child, chaotic but nice yah that sounds like a good influence. On once again his twenty minute old son? Daughter something? Whatever baby.

"Well based on the guns, and arrows that were floating around. You also can't forget the helmet I would say that was Arsenal and Red Hood's very own precious bundle but Luci wouldn't give me a straight answer but what would you expect when we raised him."

Tim's tired very tired he doesn't even stop himself from face planting onto the floor. Everything will make more sense after a nap a very long nap.

Oh my god Jason procreated is his last thought before he falls into a nightmare filled sleep.

#timkonbartcassie have a kid #timkon #clone baby #tim drake #batfamily #jason todd #everyone has kids #Tim cloned people #also Bart is super intelligent he doesn't get enough credit #bart allen #connor kent #cassie sandsmark #it's a boy #or it's a girl Tim doesn't know also he's super tired and this is from his perspective so it doesn't make a lot of sense #this is an idea I had it's kind messy #I'm not a huge Jason Roy fan but I think their kid would be badass #jayroy #this is a part one I got plans #let me know what everyone thinks #bruce wayne #Bruce became a grandfather #he just doesn't know it yet #protective Tim drake #Bart Allen is a good dad argue with the wall #Tim drake is a good dad argue with the wall #everyone's a good parent #I will not admit how long I have been working on this it's been way to long #batfam #bamf batfamily #also I have been seeing so many TimKon baby posts which motivated me to finish this

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coolemmasulivan2 · 10 months ago

Text

Rewinding Us | 2

Pairing: Mason Mount x Reader

Summary: You and Mason built a love story over five years, but after an accident, your memories are wiped away, including any feelings for your constant bickering "rival". Can you remember your love story with Mason, or will you have to start all over?

Word count: 2736

You can read more chapters here.

I am thinking of you In my sleepless solitude tonight If it's wrong to love you Then my heart just won't let me be right

The villa was filled with the anxious feeling of saying goodbye. Tomorrow, everyone would go back to their own lives, leaving behind the sun and freedom of the past week.

You zipped and unzipped your suitcase, feeling that you were forgetting something. You couldn't remember what it was and that frustrated you. Your head was a confusing mess.

Things had been awkward with Mason since you brought up the kiss. Every glance, every brush of your arms, sent shivers down your spine. You tried to ignore it, pretend nothing had changed, but you would be lying. The accident hadn't just stolen your memories, it had changed something deep inside you.

"I hate you!"

"Do you really, Y/n?"

The flashback vanished, leaving you staring at your half-packed suitcase. A cold sweat ran through your skin. You knew the answer to that question. You hated him then, but now the feeling was different and it was terrifying. So, you ran.

The morning after the confrontation, a suffocating silence settled between you and Mason. You maintained your distance and were drawn to others, ensuring there was always a physical barrier between you and him.

Seeing your calculated distance hurt Mason. He wanted to tell you how much he missed the way you used to laugh with him, the way your eyes would light up when you spoke with him, your touch and your lips. But he had to give you time. More time.

"You're still packing?" Ben entered the bedroom and sat down on the bed next to the open luggage.

You were sat on the other side of the bed, folding slowly some of your clothes. "I'm getting there. What's the rush? I have all night." You smiled and he smiled back.

"Is everything okay?" His voice was gentle.

You looked up at him. "Yeah. Just tired from the beach, that's all!"

Ben's gaze held yours, amusement quickly replaced by a knowing sparkle. "You've been quiet!" He observed, his voice soft. "For these past two days." You kept folding clothes, slowly and carefully. Ben continued, his voice laced with a quiet persistence. "Does it have anything to do with… Mase?"

You paused, the question hanging heavy in the air. How could you explain the tangled mess of emotions stirring inside you?

You locked eyes with Ben, the lie a bitter flavour on your tongue. "No!" You forced out, the word barely a whisper.

Ben chuckled. "You forget I know you, Y/N. You've been ignoring him like a ghost." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "Ignoring him more than usual, I mean. You haven't even started your usual arguing routine."

Frustration bubbled up, spilling over in a sigh. You slammed the suitcase shut. "It feels like everyone's lying to me." You blurted out, your voice thick with a tremor you couldn't control. "You included! Why can't anyone just tell me the truth?"

Ben raised an eyebrow, concern etched on his face. "What do you mean?"

"It's like you're all walking on eggshells." You said, throwing a frustrated hand in the air. "There's something you're not telling me. Everyone."

Ben's easy smile faltered for a moment, a flicker of unease crossing his features. "You're imagining things."

His words felt like a weak dam incapable of holding back the suspicion inside of you. "Imagining?" You scoffed. "Then tell me, Ben. What was my life like before the accident? Was I happy?"

"Happy? Yeah, of course you were. Living your life, having a job you liked, good friends…"

"And Mason? Did we still…hated each other?" You pressed on, your voice laced with a desperate need for answers. A hesitant pause followed your question.

Ben shifted uncomfortably, his gaze flitting away from yours. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape route. "I mean… you started to become more friendly with each other, yes… is that a bad thing?" His answer was carefully chosen, without revealing the true nature of your relationship with Mason.

You narrowed your eyes. "Friendly?" You repeated the single word dripping with disbelief. "Ben, you're lying to me."

Ben stuttered, his carefully constructed facade crumbling. "I, uh... I think it's better if you ask Mason about that, don't you think?"

The suggestion felt like a betrayal. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you mumbled: "He's probably going to lie too." Asking Mason about your relationship meant facing the possibility of something more.

Ben reached for your hand. "Look…" He said, his voice softer now. "I can't even imagine how it feels to wake up without memory. But if you want answers, maybe you should ask them to the right people." His gaze held yours for a beat longer than necessary. Then, with a quick kiss on your forehead, he turned and left the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

The next day, the drive to the airport was a blur of familiar views and friendly conversation. Charlotte, in the front seat, chatted excitedly about her plans, when they arrived back in London, while Ben and Mason talked quietly about an old football match.

The airport was loud with lots of people and long lines. As you checked in, you felt more and more worried. You just couldn't shake the feeling that you had left something behind.

Finally, when you got to the gate to wait for the plane, you remembered. "Wait!" You shouted. Your hand went straight to your neck. "I can't leave! I forgot my necklace."

"We can't go back, Y/n." Ben said kindly. "We'll miss our flight."

"But I have to!" Your voice was desperate. "It's a silver chain with a heart pendant. I can't leave without it!"

Surprise flickered across Mason's face. Mason knew about the necklace, he had given it to you on your first anniversary as a couple, but he hadn't realised that you had been wearing it all this time.

"Y/n, we really don't have time for this." Charlotte added.

"Then you guys go!" You snapped, the words tumbling out before youe could stop them. "I'll catch a later flight."

A tense silence descended upon the group. It confused him why the necklace meant so much to you, especially since you couldn't even recall that it was a gift from him.

"I'll go with her." Mason said. "We'll be quick, but if you need to leave, you can go!" You stared at him, your heart pounding. Why would he offer to go with you? Was it pity? "What are we waiting for? Let's go!"

You were so anxious that you kept your mouth closed and followed him out of the airport.

The car ride back to the villa was tense. The music offered a thin shield against the awkward silence that installed between you and Mason. He stole glances your way, craving to hear your voice, to see your familiar eyes. Finally, unable to bear the quiet any longer, he spoke.

"Why is the necklace so important to you?" Mason asked, his voice soft.

"Because it's mine!" You replied, looking at him. "I don't know why exactly. I woke up with it, and I just take it off to shower. Must've left it on the sink by mistake." You mumbled the last part, a hint of frustration creeping into your voice.

"Maybe you could just buy a new one. It's easier." He suggested. When you sighed heavily, he realized he was pissing you off.

"I don't want another one, Mount." You snapped, his last name slipping out in irritation. "That is my necklace."

A small smile tugged at Mason's lips. The human brain was a fascinating thing, he thought, storing away memories even when you couldn't access them.

Back at the villa, you recovered the spare key from the hidden place and hurried inside, the urgency of the situation finally sinking in. You raced upstairs, Mason following at a slower pace. He knew the chances of making the flight were slim, so there was no point in rushing.

He found you in the bathroom, kneeling on the floor and frantically searching for the silver necklace. "Oh my god, it's not here!"

"Maybe it's in the bedroom." Mason offered. "Come on, I'll help you find it."

In the bedroom, you checked the nightstand, under the bed, and even tossed the pillows aside, but it was nowhere to be found. Just as despair began to set in, Mason spotted a glint of silver on the floor.

"Found it!"

The familiar sight made your eyes light up, a spark that sent a jolt through Mason. He hadn't realized how much he missed seeing that spark in your eyes. A shy smile graced your lips, and for a moment, Mason felt like he was falling in love with you all over again.

"Oh my god, thank you." You breathed out.

"Turn around." He said, his voice barely a whisper. You hesitated for a second but then found yourself turning, allowing him to clasp the necklace around your neck.

His movements were slow, his body brushing tantalizingly close. You could feel his warm breath on your neck, sending shivers down your spine. As his fingers brushed your skin, a sudden wave of dizziness washed over you, and a memory slammed into your mind out of nowhere.

"What do you have behind your back?" You asked, your voice thick with joy.

It was your first anniversary together, and after dinner, you'd settled on the couch for a movie night. But Mason had excused himself for a few minutes, returning with a mischievous grin and his hand hidden behind his back.

He sat down beside you and brushed a kiss across your lips, his familiar cologne making you smile. "I have something for you." He announced.

He smirked as he opened a small black box, revealing a delicate silver necklace adorned with a perfectly formed heart, causing your heart to melt.

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision. "Mason, it's beautiful!" You whispered, taking the delicate gift from his hand.

He leaned in, his eyes searching yours. "Just like you." He murmured, his voice husky with emotion. And then, he closed the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was both tender and passionate.

The memory hit you so vividly that it took your breath away. You gasped, clutching the necklace to your chest and stepping back from Mason, your eyes wide with shock. He stood there with a confused expression on his face, his hands still hovering in the air where they'd just clasped the necklace around your neck.

"What?" He asked, concern lacing his voice.

You attempted to steady your breathing, but your mind was in turmoil.

This memory explained the strange possessiveness in his eyes when you first mentioned the necklace and the way his touch sent a familiar shiver down your spine. You didn't even know what to say. The memory left you in a sea of confusion.

"Y-You…" You stuttered, the word catching in your throat.

Mason was starting to get worried. He took a step closer, his hand reaching out hesitantly. "What is it, Y/n?"

"You were the one!" You blurted out, the words tumbling from your lips. "You gave me the necklace!"

Mason swallowed the lump in his throat and his heart was beating very fast. He wanted to say yes, that the necklace was a gift from him, a symbol of his love, but by the terrifying look in your eyes, he controlled himself.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He said, his voice a low rumble.

You took a step back, confused and terrified by what the memory had brought surging to the surface. "I saw you!" You insisted, your voice shaking. "The necklace. It was a black box."

Mason let out a nervous chuckle, the sound strained and unconvincing. "Y/n, I think you're confusing things."

"STOP LYING TO ME!" You yelled, a burst of frustration.

"YES, IT WAS ME!" He shouted in response, finally letting go. The frustration in his voice mirrored yours. He was tired. He was tired of pretending he didn't want to be by your side every single day. "I gave you the necklace. Happy now?"

You squeezed the necklace in your hand. You didn't know what to feel. Since you'd met Mason years ago, your interactions had been filled with annoyance and hatred. But now, those new feelings were scary. You were afraid. Afraid of feeling something more for the handsome footballer standing before you.

"Why?" You whispered, your voice barely audible. "Why did you give me the necklace?"

Mason ran a hand through his hair and let out a sigh. "If you remember the box was black, you also remember we kissed." His eyes locked on yours. "God, Y/n, it's not that difficult. We were together."

You shook your head in denial, the image of his lips meeting yours in the memory flashing before your eyes. "No!" You breathed.

"Yes!" He said, his voice firm.

"No. We hate each other. That's impossible." The words tumbled out, a desperate attempt to cling to the reality you remembered.

Ignoring the protest in your voice, Mason took a step forward, forcing you to back up until you felt the cool wall against your back. The gesture sent a jolt through you, a mix of fear and a strange, unfamiliar excitement. He slowly took another step, and another, until he was impossibly close, his chest brushing against yours. You could feel the heat radiating from his body.

"Do you hate me?" He asked, his voice a husky whisper. He was so close that you could count the small freckles peppered across his nose. "Do you hate me like you used to?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. His lips were a mere breath away, distracting you. "No-- yes, y-yes, I do!"

He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The tension was unbearable. "I don't believe you." He said.

"I don't car--"

"I love you!" The words exploded from him. His eyes holding yours captive. The force of his words left you speechless. Your legs felt like jelly, threatening to buckle beneath you. "I have been loving you for a long time."

"Don't say that, Mason."

"I missed you calling me Mason." He murmured, his gaze dropping to your lips. The air crackled with unspoken desire. "Fuck," He breathed, his voice thick with frustration. "I miss you so damn much."

There was a tense silence between you. You and Mason stared at each other, searching each other's eyes for answers. A slow smile played on Mason's lips, a hint of worry mixed in. He leaned closer, slowly, like a magnet drawn to you. Your heart pounded in your chest, a frantic drum against your ribs. Every part of you wanted to step back, to run away. But you couldn't move. Then, a second later, his lips met yours.

The kiss was passionate and gentle. Mason's hands cupped your face softly like he was afraid to break something. You wrapped your hand in his shirt, clinging to him as the kiss deepened. Without even thinking, you kissed him back, pouring all your jumbled emotions into the kiss.

It was a kiss that belonged to a different you. A you who maybe, loved Mason back. The realization slammed into you like a cold shower. You pulled away abruptly, gasping for air.

Mason's eyes searched your face. His hand brushed your cheek, a lingering touch that sent shivers down your spine. "Y/n…" He started, his voice hoarse., because of the kiss.

"I-I can't." You stuttered, the words slipping out in a rush. You stumbled away, needing distance. It was all too much.

"Wait!" Mason reached for you, but you were already running towards the exit. Tears pricked at your eyes, blurring your vision. You didn't dare look back, afraid of wanting to stay with him.

The fresh air hit you as you burst out of the villa, your lungs burning.

Focused on escaping from Mason, you hadn't noticed the car speeding down the street. It wasn't slowing down.

A screech of tyres tore through the pavement, followed by a loud honk. You heard a desperate shout - "Y/N!" - but it was too late. The world seemed to blur as the blinding headlights filled your vision.

#mason mount fluff #mason mount #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagines #mason mount imagine #footballer imagine #footballer x reader #football imagine #footballer x y/n #Rewinding Us

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anjeix · 5 days ago

Text

II. After the gate.

Oblivion | Sung Jinwoo x ???!Reader

The gate collapsed behind them with a sound like a sigh.

One moment, Jinwoo was inside a space that didn't follow any known laws. The next, he was standing in the middle of a rain-slicked street just outside the barrier, the sky overcast and buzzing with residual mana.

And she was beside him.

She stood barefoot in a thin, dark veil that clung to her shoulders and hair — now short, black, damp. Her face was pale, human. Her eyes no longer glowed.

Her breath caught.

She looked down at herself, hands trembling slightly as they clutched the edge of the fabric. The cloak she wore didn't belong to her — that much was obvious from the confusion written all over her face.

A Hunter from the Association took a step forward, sword half-raised.

"Who the hell is she?" "With me," Jinwoo said. Flat. Final.

The Hunter hesitated, eyes narrowing. But then they saw his face, and backed off without another word.

The woman turned to Jinwoo.

"What... what happened?" she asked.

She was still blinking too slowly, as if her mind was processing too many things at once. Her voice was hoarse but clear. Familiar.

"You walked out of a dungeon," he said. "Unregistered. Unarmed."

Her brows drew together.

"No... I..." Her fingers grazed her temple. "I was just going home. I took the bus. Then I—"

She trailed off.

"You remember your name?" Jinwoo asked, watching her carefully.

She nodded slowly.

"(Y/n)."

There it was. Not a false name. Not a lie. A memory.

"I live in Mapo. I work in publishing. I'm..."

She looked down at her bare feet again, then at the puddle she stood in like it might explain something.

"Why am I wearing this?" she said, annoyed. Almost starting to get irritated with the situation.

Jinwoo didn't answer. He was staring at her too intently now — not with suspicion, but with calculation. As if she were a puzzle he didn't know how to solve yet.

"I have to go," she said suddenly, taking a shaky step back. "I have work. Deadlines. My phone—"

Her hands searched her cloak, but of course it wasn't there.

Jinwoo finally moved, reaching into his jacket and pulling out his own phone.

"I'll call you a ride," he said. "Why would you—?" "Because you're not ready to take the subway barefoot."

He said it without irony, without softness. But his coat was already off his shoulders and in her hands before she could protest. She stared at it for a second, then wrapped it around herself with a quiet, mechanical gratitude.

The car arrived minutes later — tinted windows, Association license plate. She hesitated at the open door.

"I don't know what happened in there," she said, not looking at him. "Neither do I," Jinwoo replied. "But I'm going to find out."

She didn't argue. She got in.

And as the car pulled away, he stood there in the rain, watching the reflection of a woman who shouldn't exist fade into Seoul's gray horizon.

The apartment key still worked.

She stood in front of the door for a long moment, uncertain. The taxi was gone. The hallway smelled like floor polish and cheap incense. Third floor, just like she remembered. Her name still on the mailbox: (Y/n) (L/n).

Inside, the lights flickered on as she stepped in.

It was all hers.

The bookshelves. The coat rack. The half-finished coffee mug in the sink. A single heel kicked under the dining table. That stack of papers with her notes in tight, looping script.

She ran her fingers along the edge of the kitchen counter, letting her breath catch. It felt like walking into someone else's dream.

Her phone buzzed on the couch — battery miraculously not dead — and the screen lit up with a string of missed calls. Coworkers. Editors. Unknown numbers.

Her chest tightened. She wasn't afraid, just... out of sync.

She moved through the apartment with practiced ease: changed clothes, tied her hair, brewed coffee without thinking. Muscle memory carried her.

But underneath that normal rhythm, something pulsed — like a second heartbeat, just out of reach.

By the time the sun went down, she'd replied to two work emails, sent a vague apology about being "offline," and drafted a list of things to do the next day.

She didn't remember writing half of it.

The next day, the subway smelled like metal and rain.

(Y/n) stood quietly, one hand on the rail, the other clutching a canvas tote that didn't feel like hers — though the keys inside it jingled just right. The crowd was dull: office workers in trench coats, students with earbuds, the occasional half-asleep stranger nodding with the rhythm of the train.

No one looked at her.

Good.

She used the ride to study the city outside the window — tall buildings softened by fog, everything glass and motion. It felt like watching someone else's memory. A version of her life she had the script for, but no lines.

Her phone buzzed again.

[From: Min Joo] Saw your email. We'll talk when you get in. Everyone's dying.

Classic. She smiled faintly, almost relieved. Min Joo was her assistant editor — sharp, nosy, and catastrophically over-caffeinated. If Min Joo was texting like that, things hadn't changed.

The office sat on the 17th floor of an old high-rise near Seongsu — not flashy, not corporate. Just enough history in the walls to smell like paper and too many opinions.

As soon as she walked in, the familiar weight of it hit her: the clatter of keyboards, the hum of bad coffee, the quick glance from the intern who definitely wasn't expecting her to show up today.

"(Y/n)?" a voice said.

She turned. Min Joo stood by the glass-walled meeting room, tablet in one hand, soy latte in the other, blinking like she'd seen a ghost.

"What the hell happened to you?" "I got caught near a gate when it closed," (y/n) said quickly, smoothly. "Wasn't injured. Just... offline for a while."

Min Joo didn't buy it, but she also didn't push. She handed her the coffee.

"Your desk is buried, there's a manuscript crisis brewing, and two authors think we ghosted them." "Perfect," she said, sipping. "Let's get to it."

Meetings. Notes. Margin edits. Half-finished contracts. The language of publishing wrapped around her like armor — precise, controlled, familiar.

She slipped back into her role without hesitation. After all, running Obsidian Press demanded it.

But something was off.

Not in the office — in her.

A brief flash of something when she touched a manuscript — the paper buzzed faintly against her fingertips, like it remembered things she didn't.

Or when she looked too long at the flickering fluorescent lights above her desk and felt something behind them, watching.

She blinked it away. Refocused.

By mid-afternoon, it was almost easy to pretend nothing had changed.

Almost.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

LINKS : Masterpost | Part three (available soon)

Are you guys liking this so far ? By the way, has anyone noticed what I changed in the title [eyes emoji] ?

#solo leveling #x reader #sung jinwoo

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thevoicefromanotherworld · 1 month ago

Text

"YOU HAVE ME ALL TO YOURSELF, PRINCESS"

I WROTE ANOTHER FIC WITH TANGERINE

I hope you like it! 💙😌☝

Your boss had told you to take the bullet train from Tokyo Station, where you would meet your contact in the dining car.

Supposedly, he knew where you could find the son of the White Death, who had disappeared a month ago.

As planned, you boarded the bullet train at the indicated station, and after showing your ticket to the conductor, you walked with a firm step to the place where the person you were supposed to speak to would be.

You touched your ear, making sure the communicator you had attached there was on and that your business partner and best friend, Natalie, could hear you perfectly.

"How will I know who it is?" you asked in a low voice so that the other passengers wouldn't think you had suddenly gone crazy

"The boss said he'd be wearing a blue suit," she replied quickly. "He shouldn't be hard to find. He's the only Westerner you'll find on the entire train."

"First, that was very racist," you blurted out. "And second, why blue?" Couldn't he have chosen a more discreet color?

"What the hell do I know, dude," your friend complained. "Ask him why he chose that color when you see him, but first make sure he tells you the last known whereabouts of someone you and I know, okay?"

"Okay," you said, as you caught a glimpse of a man's broad back, clad in a blue suit jacket. "I have to go, I found him," you announced. "I'll call you with the news as soon as I can"

"Okay, be careful, and for God's sake, don't trust him."

"I don't trust anyone," you replied, repeating your mantra once more.

When she hung up, you headed over to the contact and sat next to him at the bar.

You ordered a drink in perfect Japanese so as not to arouse suspicion, and he glanced at you, just as you did at him.

Whatever you were expecting, you were sure you weren't expecting someone like him.

He was wearing a dark blue suit with a shirt of the same color, but a lighter shade that matched his eyes, which rested on you with curiosity and intensity, as if he could tell who you were just by looking at you.

He took a sip of his drink, and you did the same with yours when the waiter placed it in front of you.

"I guess you're my contact," you began when you found your voice

"And you're the girl I have to help."

"Excuse me, help?" "You asked, frowning in confusion. I thought you were going to give me the whereabouts of the son of the White Death, and we'd each go our separate ways

"I wish it were that simple, darling," he smiled, showing off his British accent. "My boss told me I should help you find him, in case he's still alive." He pointed at both of you. "So from this moment on, you and I are partners."

"I work alone," you blurted out, his smile widening at your displeasure.

"I did too, until," he looked at the watch on his wrist. "Ten minutes ago," he quickly calculated. "Believe me, love, I'm not exactly amused by this situation either," he said. "But if this is how it's supposed to be, it will be done."

"What do you gain from all this?" "You questioned, leaning your gaze on him.

"Money, and a new katana," he added. "The last two were left behind because of my last job."

"Sure," you huffed, tired of him bragging about himself and what he'd done every chance he got. "If we're going to be partners, you have to tell me your name."

"Tangerine," he blurted out, and you laughed helplessly.

"Tangerine? Like the fruit?"

"Yeah, like the fucking fruit," he grunted, draining his drink.

"And if you're Tangerine, what am I, Lemon?"

"You can't be Lemon," he muttered very seriously. "Lemon is my brother."

"Oh, come on, don't fuck with me," you snorted. "Are you kidding me?"

"No, I'm serious. Lemon is my brother," he repeated. "He's not here because he's doing another job elsewhere." He gave a half-smile. "So you're lucky, you have me all to yourself, princess."

"Yeah, how lucky," you smiled, gritting your teeth with feigned joy

You stopped to wonder if this was all a hidden camera prank, and you found yourself searching for someone suspicious who could be part of the group of actors who had organized the whole show, but you didn't find anyone.

"Tell me what you know about him, about his last whereabouts. Anything could be relevant," you said, taking another sip of your drink.

"He doesn't like leaving the house," Tangerine began. "From what we know, he's the typical Japanese teenager who only thinks about getting home and spending all day playing video games or thinking about jerking off every three minutes to a porn video," she explained, shrugging her shoulders. "If he wasn't the son of who you and I know, that kid would be an average Asian"

"In short, you don't know anything about him," you said, causing him to hold his hand to his chest, clearly offended.

"I've told you what…"

"You haven't told me shit," you interrupted. "Those assumptions I could have figured out the information myself just by looking at his KakaoTalk account," you snorted. "What I want is real data, dates and times he entered and left the school, security camera recordings, something that tells us where he was last and therefore where we should start looking"

He stared at you for a few seconds before speaking again.

"Clearly we haven't gotten off to a good start," he gave an amused smile. "But we're in this together, honey, and I'm not leaving your side until we complete this job," he reminded you. "So you better try to make the situation as bearable as possible"

"Speak for yourself," you snorted. "I'm very nice to everyone."

"I must be the exception," he replied, laughing. "We should start thinking about finding a place to sleep." He smiled. "You don't want to sleep in the hallway, do you?"

"Of course not," you said, finishing your drink in one gulp. "Let's find that spot."

"I wouldn't mind sharing a bed with you if necessary." He gave a smirk, causing you to shake your head.

"You're… you…" You clicked your tongue tiredly. "I don't even have adjectives to describe you."

Tangerine's smile widened as she followed you down the train aisle to the first-class seats, thinking about how this job was fucking shit, but it was less bad if you were with him.

And you'd never admit it, but you thought the same thing.

#aaron taylor johnson #byvoice #writters on tumblr #writterscommunity #tangerine x reader #tangerine x you #tangerine x y/n #my fic writing

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dronebiscuitbat · 8 days ago

Text

Oil is Thicker Then Blood: Polarity- Chapter 3: A Long Day

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64077811/chapters/167453419

A sheet of paper full of equations is placed in front of her, after a lecture about the order of operations and how to access the computing portion of their processors to make this trivial, they were super advanced computers after all.

And yet…

Tera stared down at the paper with a pencil in her hand, reading the first question over and over and over again, it was easy, or should have been. Simple long devision as a warm up before the harder questions. All she had to do was… compute.

Her brain-her processors attempted to calculate the numbers, only to freeze halfway through like an ancient machine running on the worlds shittiest hard drive. The numbers seemed to change the longer she looked at them, 5’s becoming 3’s and 6’s becoming 9’s. A nervous sweat started to appear on her visor, instead now trying to solve the problem organically, writing down the equation on paper and working to solve it that way. That didn’t work either, the numbers floated off the page to become unintelligible runes.

She may as well have been trying to decipher hieroglyphs.

She groaned and threw her head back.

An hour later, the paper was slammed back down on her desk with a big fat red 45% etched in huge letters on the corner. She wasn't sure if getting a 0 would be better, or worse, then at least she could claim she was just stupid. But getting something right using the incorrect formula just confused her further.

She grumbled, and stuffed it in her bag with a growl.

Rad took a single look her and chortled. “I think teach just likes to bleed all over your papers dude. I know you can't be that bad.”

It was intended to cheer her up, but it really didn't, she was a robot! A computer! Her building blocks were in fucking binary! What computer couldn't do the thing they were named after- compute?!

So she just sighed. “Just shut up man…”

Rad pouted for a moment, before his eyes lit up, if it was any more obvious he'd gotten an idea, a big green light bulb would have popped up over his head. “Bet I can beat you in a race to biology.”

Tera's tail perked up as she gathered her things, a smirk replaced a frown. “Not a chance man, I'm way faster!”

“Prove it Lucky Bat!” And with that, he raced down the hall as fast as his hydrolic powered legs could carry him.

He knew he wasn't going to win.

And when he felt the wind of Tera sprinting ahead rush past him, all he could do was laugh as the purple blur rushed inside the next class, startling several other students who gave the solver drone a nasty look as she blasted past them.

“Hah! Fuck ye-SHIT!”

Kiara was at her desk, supposedly waiting for her, her eyelights go hollow as Tera barrels towards her and the worker braces for impact with her best freind.

Tera pumps the breaks hard and fast, she can feel herself skidding across the polished stone floor, she holds her hands out to try and salvage the situation and-

She stops a hairs breath from her, panting as her arms brush against Kiara's arms, the plan being to grab her and then stop them both to avoid hurting her.

Now though it's just a slightly awkward half-hug.

Tera gulps and her visor flushes a neon flavored purple.

“Y-you okay?” She asked through her throat near closing in embarrassment, she probably needed to back up, or at least let go before asking… but she wouldn't be a Doorman if she wasn't painfully awkward.

Kiara blinked, still processing the fact she wasn't melted slag stuck to the floor before she looks up with a smile. “I'm fine! Little bit of a close one there yeah?”

Tera grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head as she stepped back. “Sorry, Rad challenged me to a race and…”

“…you can't say no to a challenge?” The worker giggled. “I figured. Looks like you won though.” Her eyes flicker to the doorway.

Rad came in panting, smiling, but panting. “Oh man… have you gotten even faster? It's like you teleported!” His vents kick up to max trying to cool him off, and he rests his hands on his knees. “Dang.”

Tera smirked. “You're just a slowpoke.”

Kiara brought her attention back with a featherlight touch to her arm, Tera tried to ignore the shock that passed up through her sensors.

“I need your help.” She spoke quietly. “Mrs. Finley gave us homework about Nightstalkers and I completely forgot about it!” Kiara pouted, looking a little ashamed of herself.

“You? Forgetting homework? How scandalous.” Tera quipped back, laughing when Kiara pouted even more.

“I… had a rough night.” The worker replied softly, rubbing her shoulder and looking away, Tera felt like she just swallowed acid.

“Yeah. I can help. Mrs.Finley gives us 15 minutes to look over it before asking for it anyway. Pull up your chair.” Tera replied, smiling down. “No copying though, that would be unethical.” She parrots her best freinds words and the worker smacks her lightly. “You!”

“Thank you…”

Tera turns back to look at Rad. “You forget yours too?”

He blinked stupidly. “Forget what?”

Tera sighed. “Pull up a chair String Bean.”

They both pull up thier chairs on either side of Tera's desk, which was luckily large enough to uncomfortably fit them all.

Rad dug out a crumpled paper from his bag, laughing warily when Kiara eyed him like he'd committed murder, Tera pulled out her completed work, along with a little leather bound journal.

“Rad you can just copy. You're not going to read it anyway.” Tera says deadpan, and the young man grins and begins copying the answers down in barely legible chicken scratch.

Then she turns to Kiara. “Alright, first question…”

How large to Nightstalkers get?

She opens her journal to a page of notes, accompanied by a rough sketch of a nightstalker.

“So they average around 20 feet in height fully grown, not counting the horns or you'd add another 2, I don't think Mrs. Finley counts them, or just would prefer the easier to remember number for us.” Tera points to where she'd jotted down their heights.

“I've never seen one that big…” Kiara writes it down, but looks up at Tera to explain.

“Their deeper in the jungle… plus that's what we have hunting parties for, V doesn't really let one that big stick around if it does wander towards us.”

When are Nightstalkers at their most deadly?

“I know that one! They get really hormonal and angry when they become teenagers… soo.” The worker taps a pen on her cheek. “What age is that?”

“2 and a half usually.” Tera answers.

The fat on the top of a Nightstalkers back is both armor and heat regulation, it is called what?

“Blubber.”

Kiara laughs. “That's not a real word.”

“I promise it is, and it's right.” Tera replies. “You haven't tried to drive a blade through that, it may as well be steel.”

They continue, Kiara asking questions, trying to actually learn the material while Tera answers with either a note from her hunting journal or a quick anecdote. All with the background noise of Rad furiously scribbling.

They finish just in time for Mrs. Finley to walk in, 15 minutes after the bell rang.

“Alright everyone. Hand me your homework and we'll get started, the next species we'll be focusing on is the Deersheep…”

Kiara and Rad scooted thier chairs back to where they should've been- to the desks either side of her.

Text flickered up on Kiara's visor. [THANK YOU!]

Rad chuckled. “Cheers Dude.”

Tera leaned back and smiled, handing up her paper to the teacher now doing laps around the classroom to collect the work, she pauses at Rads. “Mr. Hayes.”

“Yes'm?”

“Why have you written down Miss Doorman’s name in place of your own?

Tera facepalmed. Kiara rolled her eyes. Rad smiled like a dead man. “Ahah…”

Mrs.Finley's bright blue eyelights trailed over to Tera. “Did you know about this?”

Tera wracked her brain quickly. “We did a study group together, he must have done it as a joke when we were talking about how he often forgets to write his name.”

The blue eyelights narrowed, she brushed a hand though her tightly spun and frazzled brown hair, and she sighed.

“If I didn't have multiple nameless papers from you. Mr. Hayes, I wouldn't believe her. Don't do it again.”

After she walks away towards her desk, Rad untested. “Woo… saved my life there…” He said quietly.

“I can't belive you wrote my name! You dumbass!” Tera gave an incredulous and amused smile. “You could've gotten me in trouble too!” She whisper-yelled.

The rest of the day was long, tedious, and sufficiently boring enough to put her on autopilot, sure she was present for her freinds but… anywhere else. Mind off somewhere in the jungle and outwardly expressing that classic Doorman brand resting bitch face.

At lunch, they were let out into the cafeteria and served deep fried copper nuggets, bolts, and a side of batteries. Which Tera inhaled like a starving animal before her two freinds even had a chance to touch thiers.

“Dude.”

“Slow down your gonna choke!”

Her two respective freinds called out, but she didn't listen, licking her lips in satisfaction. “Ahhh~”

To finish it off, she reached into her pocket to pull out a dented and well worn silver canteen, gulping down sweet and tangy oil like it was drops of heaven.

She pulled off it when it was half empty, wiping her mouth of the excess.

In all honesty… she was still hungry.

Though she was always hungry nowadays.

“Vampire.” Rad coughed.

“It comes from the ground. I'm not a fucking vampire!” Tera immediately protested. “You eat the soup at the food court! It's the same thing!”

Kiara giggled, Rad teased poor Tera about that every chance he got. She had to be sick of it by now…

She hummed to herself as she finished out a sketch of a lion, as realistic as one could without never seeing one outside of pictures and ancient documentaries, she began to shade it so the fur looked black, letting Tera and Rads bickering become white noise.

More classes, more work; right after lunch she still had Rad and Kiara in an advanced English class, where the focus was more on the history of linguistics and the written word then reading comprehension- when your whole student body can take screenshots with thier eyes; you stop worrying about retaining information organically.

But afterwards, she was alone in an architectural engineering class that was more numbers and measurements then actually building things and she was back to slamming her head against the wall in frustration, doubled because now… the math was applied.

She did well in the practical projects like build a bridge out of sticks, or make a model pully that works under a specific weight threshold. She could trial and error that, and she was really good at eyeballing measurements even if she was shit at exact numbers- but the second she had to figure out exactly what degrees a triangle needed to be to support X amount of weight she wanted to eat the damn paper.

“Ugh…”

She crossed her arms, and tuned out of the lecture, instead spacing out while looking vaguely forward to give the illusion that she was still paying attention.

Maybe you have so much trouble because you refuse to actually pay attention.

A monotone and robotic mockery of her own voice whispered, she'd have winced at the suddenness of it if it wasn't wholly expected at this point. She ignored it.

Or maybe you're just an idiot.

That's okay though… smarts would be wasted on a killing machine.

She growled, tightening her fist but giving the entity that lived in her head no response.

At least until she blinked, and suddenly she was standing at the front of the classroom, drones screaming in fear as they tried to get out of the door in a panic. She blinked in confusion for a moment before her eyelights went hollow.

Hanging limp in her now, fleshy, bladed claws was Mr. Riker, Oil bathing her arm and pooling all over the floor, the smell was intoxicating, ever present, and assaulted her olfactory receptors like a persistent tagalong.

She jumped, the movement making the lifeless corpse slide off her bladed fingers and into a heap on the floor, she began to hyperventilate. The word “no” repeating from her lips like a mantra as she backs herself into a corner trembling like a leaf.

“No no- I didn't, I don’t know- I'm sorry!”

“Miss Doorman!”

Slam!

She's startled awake by Mr. Riker slamming a book on her desk, making her yelp in fear, a yellow solver symbol dissappearing from her eyelight. She pants, taking in the students staring at her, some snickering, before her eyelights flickered back up to the drone she just skewered.

“I know buttresses are boring, but please refrain from falling asleep in my class.”

A chorus of giggles passed through the classroom lile a wave.

The teacher rolled their eyes and left her be, which was good, because once all the eyes were off her again she let out a shaky breath and looked down at her hands, normal, even with the animal-like pads on her hands given by the solver.

She squeezed them into fists and sighed, burying her head in her hands and wanting to scream.

Instead she went back to staring at the front, stress lines under her eyes as her mind returns to silence.

She comes out of the classroom hunched over and emotionally drained, tail limp and half dragging across the floor like a zombie. She takes her canteen and drinks the rest of the oil to try and relax her… anything.

“Ter!” Kiara calls from the front door of the school, the day for the upperclassmen being over to go to their field training. Her eyelights looked up, tail perking up a little.

“I'm heading to the clinic for my last two hours, but…I was wondering if you saw my messages?”

Oh crap!

“I did! I can take you and Rad out past the walls this weekend if you want! It's just been a… weird day. Sorry.”

Kiara's eyes lit up. “Really! Awesome! Thank you, Thank you!” She pushed forward to wrap the solver drone in a tight hug. She found herself smiling, despite it all.

“Yeah yeah… keep quiet about it, you know I'm not supposed to…”

Kiara nodded, releasing her and fluttering out the door with a wave. Tera sighed as she leaned against the doorway to outside. Watching her leave.

…and off to the barracks for her field training.

#murder drones #oil is thicker then blood #tera doorman #kiara von roth #nuzi fankid #oittb rad #i drew stuff I didn’t even end up using for this one-

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k5ashe · 1 year ago

Text

malicious

taking care of your anaemic roomate

mdni: dark content, mentions of degrading nicknames, abusive and toxic relationship

starring my twink malewife Nikolai ^^

"Fyodor-?" Your sweet voice rings in his room as you walk in, opening the curtains. It's 10 AM, a perfect Sunday morning. "Wake up, it's already 10. How long are you gonna stay coped in there?" Your tone is slightly strict, nagging him for being such a bed bug. You sigh when he pulls the blanket over him, reluctant to get up. "Do you want me to splash water on your face again?". At the mention of water, he gets up, staring at you with a scrutinized expression.

"It's my day off. Go away." You huff at his cold tone, opening the window and letting sunlight in.

Its been 5 months since you started living with him. A medical student with basically zero income- you needed a cheap place to stay, which wasn't hard when you found Fyodor. You still remember it like it was yesterday. Discovering he was anaemic was easy- there were signs. The first was how cold he was- just like his demeanor. His finger tips felt like ice against your plump skin. His eyes seemed tired, a yellowish hue in them. So, when he fainted while working, it didn't surprise you.

"You know, you should stop being so mean to me". You jokingly say, earning a glare from him. He slowly gets up, gulping down water. You stare at him for a second, before making his bed up.

Huh? Blood? You freeze, looking at his undershirt. The sleeves were ripped, as if surviving an assault. Half of the buttons were either ripped off or broken in half. What makes you erk was the humongous blood stain on it, the stench making you crill your nose up. It takes you by surprise when he suddenly grabs the shirt, yanking it from your hands.

"Fyod-" "Did I ask you to make the bed? Stop pissing me off first thing in the morning."

You're taken aback by his strict tone, taking a step back. He enters the washroom, slamming the door shut. You huff, making your way over the kitchen.

You're left alone the whole day, the man not bothering to come out his room

Ring. Ring. Ring

You get up, startled by the sudden series of bells chiming. You hurriedly open the door, still half sleepy. "Who is it-...?". Your eyes meet one of a confused man. Long, white braided hair- spreading along him like an expanse of white scenery. He tilts his head, looking down at you with a grin.

"Wow, Fedya has a girlfriend? You're pretty, miss." Eh? A girlfriend? You shake your head, confused. "I'm his roomate. Who might you be?". At your question, the man fakes a disheartened smile, clutching his shirt. "How cruel, my dear Fedya hasn't mentioned me to you even once? Ah, well. He is an asshole, so." You fake a smile, looking at him. "He's not home right now. Is there a message you want me to pass down, sir-"

Oh, Lord. You freeze at the sinister smile the stranger gives you, his lips stretching wide. The lips, typically drawn in a tight, thin line, seem to stretch unnaturally across the face, forming a grim, twisted expression that appears almost predatory. The corners of his mouth turn up slightly, but there's no warmth or sincerity in the gesture. Instead, it exudes an aura of calculated malice, as if the person behind it is relishing some hidden agenda or reveling in the discomfort they are causing.

"Ah, how cute. Staying with a criminal-" Before he could complete what he was saying, you slam the door in his face, dropping to the floor. Your heartbeat is the fastest it has ever been. In a second, you're sprinting, closing all the windows in the house and double locking the back door. You hug yourself, wrapping yourself up in sheets, hoping to find some comfort.

Till dawn, the image on that smile haunts your mind.

"Fyodor? Your friend came to visit you." He quirks an eyebrow, lifting his gaze from the book he was reading. He's silent, signalling you to continue.

"He has really long, white hair. Honestly, he scared the crap out of me. He startes grinning like a madman and he said I'm living with a criminal. People these days are-"

Huh? You shut your mouth when you see his expression. His eyes are wide, staring at you as he's seen a ghost. You shiver.

"And he kept calling you Fedya". He gets up, grabbing your shoulder. You look at him, confused. " Fyo-". His hand chops down on your neck. You gasp, feeling immense pain run through your spine. In a second, you're out cold.

".. You know too much."

As you woke, your heart pounded in terror. Chains bounded your wrists and ankles, trapping you in a dim, foreboding room. Panic surged through you as you struggled against the cold metal, realizing you were captive and alone, mind racing with fear and uncertainty.

"You're up"

You lift your head, heart dropping to your stomach when you recognize the familiar face. The tired eyes, purple hair. "Fyodor-?... Why are you-.. "

And then it all comes down. The countless blood stains you found on his shirt. His absence of days, stretching to weeks. How he hated you grabbing his phone. At a point, this should have deemed suspicious to you. But, love makes you blind, right?

It was like love at first sight. His tone was oddly gentle and he was more open to you. His build was slim but he was strong, strong enough to grab you when you almost fell from the couch. You felt nervous under his gaze. When your eyes met, a rush of nervous excitement fluttered in the pit of your stomach, mingling with the undeniable pull of attraction. It was as if time stood still, the world fading away around you as you became lost in the depths of his gaze.

"... Will you kill me too, Fyodor?". Your sweet voice rings through him again, and he clenches his teeth, almost holding back. His hand grabs your chin, tilting it up. You smile at him, a genuine one.

"I love you, Fyodor."

He stares at you, silent for a moment before he slowly starts laughing. He laughs and laughs, the sound cold and humourless. "Oh, you really are dumb, aren't you? I already suspected you were one. But this? What an idiot."

He stands up now, walking to where you sit on the floor. A harsh smirk is on his lips now, and he stands above you, looking down at you with a twisted expression. "Look at you... you honestly can't see why I picked you? A dumb slut is what you are. And you're mine to play with, after all. Honestly, I'm a little disappointed. I thought you were smarter, but, clearly not. You're nothing but an idiotic whore."

"But-" Your voice cracks. "I love you, Fyodor. I love every single moment that happened between us. There’s no way all that was fake." You say, crying.

"Oh? You love me?" He grips your hair now, pulling you up to your feet. He smirks as his eyes stare darkly into your own, almost sadistically amused by your words. He's always been cruel, but... never to this degree. "My dear, look where it's gotten you, hm? You're at my mercy... do you really think confessing to loving a man like me will do you any good?"

You gasp for breath, tears streaming down your face. "Play with me, Fedya". You say, tone almost desperate. " Just don’t leave, Fedya-"

Your words die at your tongue when a cold blade presses on your neck. Before you could move, your eyes close. You suddenly realise you can't move -- won't move. The blood spills and colors the floor is a beautiful red color, soaking his shoes up. It's the last thing you ever see

#bsd smut #bsdfics #bsd fyodor #bsd nikolai #bsd #anime smut #fyodor x reader #Spotify

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songmingisthighs · 9 months ago

Text

Oddeleny

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

<< previous | m.list | next >>

ch. lxvi - gotcha

ghost!yeosang × reader

genre : ghost!au

rating, warning : mature; crude jokes and filthy language

wc : 1.2 k

buy me coffee ?

a connection once had, broken with the expectation that the ending is final. but life has an odd proclivity of making attachments from detachments. in the end, we don't know what we lost until we look at what we have

To say Wooyoung hesitated to come was a major understatement because the second Wooyoung got to Mingi and Yeosang's apartment complex, he felt a shiver down his spine, remembering what happened in Yeosang's room. That's why it was so hard for him to knock on the door of the apartment because he didn't know what to expect then.

Frankly, Wooyoung didn't know why he listened to Mingi and agreed to come. Of course, it was curiosity that got the best of him because for the past God knows how long, Wooyoung was trying to look for an explanation or something to relate to. Well, someone. Now that Mingi said the things he said, he wanted to believe that Mingi shared his experience. All in all, Wooyoung hoped that he would be able to get some clue as to what to do with what happened, whatever it was.

So he braced himself, took a deep breath, and rang the bell, almost regretting it immediately and part of his brain told him to just turn around and walk away but Mingi had opened the door.

"Good, you're here," Mingi huffed, convincingly acting as if he was flustered which surprised Wooyoung because he had never been glad for his arrival. Slowly, Wooyoung trailed into the apartment and took off his shoes. "I'm surprised that you're glad I'm here," Wooyoung muttered, looking around the apartment warily as if expecting to see Yeosang standing there. But of course, Yeosang didn't show up.

"So what is it that freaked you out to the point of contacting me?" Wooyoung asked, his eyes still shifting around like a thief who is calculating his move. Mingi made a point to sigh and gestured for Wooyoung to sit on the couch, "I think... It's better for you to sit down first because things could get overwhelming," he stated, confusing Wooyoung who cautiously followed Mingi's direction and sat down. "What are you talking about?" It took him a moment but his eyes widened, "Did you catch Yeosang popping on his computer screen?" Wooyoung asked, his voice laced with anxiety with a hint of excitement.

"Remember how you told your friends that you think your grandma always favoured your twin sister and that you're worried that she's going to give your portion of the inheritance to her because she'd just manipulate her and that you'd make sure nothing like that ever happens?" Mingi started, inching towards his room while Wooyoung's eyes followed his movements. Slowly, Wooyoung nodded but his eyebrows furrowed, "Yeah? What about it?" he asked, now feeling that the conversation was inching somewhere else.

Without saying much more, Mingi opened the door of his room and Seonghwa and San stepped out, surprising Wooyoung enough to make him stand up. "What are you two doing here?" Wooyoung was in no way ready to face the two considering he had abandoned all of his responsibilities to San and their channel and refused to answer Seonghwa's calls. "Wooyoung, we've been talking to Mingi and we're worried about you," Seonghwa started as San only stood by the sides with his arms crossed, trying his best not to immediately attack his credibility as influencer partner. To that statement, Wooyoung's body shifted to a defensive stance, one foot in front of the other as if he was preparing to run if needed. "And what the fuck has Mingi been telling you two? You know he's a liar, right? He exaggerates all of the things he said. He doesn't know half the shit in my life and what I've been doing." Sighing, Seonghwa crossed his arms too and peeked into the room he came from before returning his gaze to Wooyoung, "No, but I've heard a lot, SEEN a lot from (y/n) and that's what got me even more worried."

It was bad enough that Seonghwa, HIS friend, mentioned your name, but to see you coming out of Mingi's room and standing in front of San with people he recognized as your friends spreading along the room almost made him scream. As hard as it was, Wooyoung held his voice in and only snarled at the sight of his twin sister, "And what the hell are you doing here you psycho?" Immediately, the bulky guy next to you (Jongho), took a step forward to swing at Wooyoung only to be held back by the smallest guy of the bunch (Hongjoong). "Hey, it's not like I wanna face you Wooyoung but I'm doing this so your friends don't have to deal with the horse shit you've been piling on me," you scoffed with a roll of an eye, making it obvious that you were done with his antics while simultaneously pissing him off. Judging from the way Wooyoung clenched his fists, it seemed like you achieved your goal.

Wooyoung stood there as he eyed you and his friends, conveniently acting like your own friends weren't even there. Not that any of them cared because they were only there to support you and in addition, Mingi and in extension, Seonghwa and San. "So what did this bitch told you that you were so easily manipulated, huh? Did she told you all about how she was ignored all of our childhood and that she blamed it on me? Did she told you about how she manipulated my grandma and my cousin to the point that our parents were harrassed?" "Save it Wooyoung, we know you've been stalking her and we know that it was you who planted the idea in your parents' brain to kick (y/n) out of school," San finally spoke up, stepping out from behind Seonghwa to face the friend he now barely recognized.

The secret had obviously eaten Wooyoung away like a flesh-eating virus because the person who stood before them was not the proud, cocky, and albeit conceited friend they once know. The guy before them was skittish, wary, he looked like he was running from something which he was and it was his past that was catching up to him at a rapid speed.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Wooyoung said as his brain tried to think of a way to inch out slowly, figuring how to get out considering that he was grossly outnumbered. Plus, in his deluded mind, he believed that the people before him were willing to do what he would and what he would do was just something none of the others would even consider.

"Wooyoung, just stop. Aren't you tired of hiding everything?" You snapped, taking steps forward to Wooyoung much to your friends' dismay, "Look at you! No one knew where you've been for weeks and everyone is worried! Frankly, I am because you were not like this before and you're cracking, Wooyoung. You're like a fragile porcelain teacup just a tap away from shattering and God, don't you see how affected your friends are?" Hearing that made Wooyoung blink in realization, his eyes immediately darted to his friends and sure enough, he recognized the worry underneath the stress lines on each of his friends. "They're so worried about you that they rushed here to help you because damn it, Wooyoung, you're out of fucking control! What you've been doing are criminal actions and had it been up to me, I would've put your ass in jail, BELIEVE ME. But against my better judgment and absolute fury, they told me that you deserve a second chance. I know more than ANYONE what it felt to deserve a second chance only to not even be offered it. God knows what it felt like to be the person who actually has the trigger to ruin your whole life at the tip of my finger for retribution only to be coaxed to understand you. So please Wooyoung, make me hate you more by being benevolent because the other side of the coin would allow me to ruin you and if I achieve that so easily, I'd turn into you."

The room fell silent and for once in his life, Wooyung was speechless. He hadn't taken into consideration how his actions affected his friends. Then again, he never had to think about anyone other than himself and he was perfectly fine with that. So it took him by absolute surprise that you'd be the one to speak on behalf of his friends.

"Wooyoung, we want to help you. You need the help. Professional help and we want to be there for you," Seonghwa said from behind you, hesitating to move as he was afraid that if he moved too quickly. Wooyoung would flee like a deer. But Seonghwa braved himself and stepped out to stand next to you, "Let us help you, Wooyoung."

Hope emerged when the people in the room saw Wooyoung's shoulders drop and his hands reached out to his friend.

As quick as the hopeful moment came, it was oh too quickly snubbed out as chaos broke. Wooyoung's hand pivoted at the last moment and instead of Seonghwa, he grabbed you by the forearms and swung himself sideways, effectively throwing you back against the coffee table, breaking it to pieces. It was so sudden that no one really knew what to do. In the midst of the confusion, Wooyoung took the chance to push past San and Hongjoong, making his exist as quick as he could while leaving a mess behind.

While people rallied around you, worried beyond their minds, you caught a glimpse of the fear in Wooyoung's eyes as he gave one last regretful look before he disappeared behind the door. It was then did you allow the regret to sink in as you thought,

I should have let the bitch rot in jail.

network :

@cultofdionysusnet @sandsofire @kflixnet @pirateeznet

taglist :

@luvt0kki @aestheticsluut @stayatinykatsy @miaatiny @yukichan67 @maidens-world @wlv-asteria @bee-the-loser @junstulip @keinskpopcorner @donghyuckanti27 @axo-l0tl @cyber-innie @oddracha @dinossaurz @vcutparis @redzie02 @blackb3ll @mizumigi @jan-l @zoro-nanami-wifey @charreddonuts @angelicyeo @green-agent @teenyfinds @gxlden-bxbyy @that-irrelevant-ricecakeaddict @tinyelfperson @jenowithjaem @mayonnaisehoeshit @allisonleannn @raspberrysannie @surveilenceysystem @borahae-reads @watanabehan @boo-ven9eance @cosmolight @ateezourstars @potatos-on-clouds @iinsomiac @kirbrary @conwunder @akunoeyebrows @kimhongjoongssmile

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davidchiemcore · 8 months ago

Text

started thinking about how much money each of the characters likely makes

(DRDT SPOILERS AHEAD - for character and story backgrounds)

basic information I'm going off of: drdtdev stated that everyone except Teruko and Min make their living from their talent. the hope's peak academy they attend is located in the US, and they're specifically part of the east class, so implying its somewhere on the eastern side of the us. While they don't have to live where the school is, there is a western branch of Hope's Peak, so the fact that they attend the eastern branch suggests that they're closer to that side. The series takes place sometime in the future, but given the world had a major tragedy and seems to be on the same level as the world we live in, I'm gonna assume inflation is roughly the same as now

teruko: She does mention having to choose between rent and food, meaning she makes some sort of money, and enough to rent a place at times. I assume she works some sort of minimum wage job, given she doesn't have full schooling experience. a lot of the eastern us has minimum wage at 7.25, but places in the northeast have it a bit higher, from 10-15. If she earned something like 13 dollars an hour, worked 40 hours a week, and worked every week, she would make around 27k. However, with her bad luck and lack of legal documents as mentioned when she talks about her schooling, I assume she probably loses jobs quite frequently. Assuming she's unemployed for about a fourth of the year, she would' earn roughly 20k

xander: This one confuses me a bit. He's basically an activist, so I'm not sure what kind of job he would have consistently. Additionally, he lived in the UK from at least age 14 until he started attending Hope's Peak, so I had to look for jobs there. Looking it up, it seems that the pay ranges from 23k-49k, averaging at 33k (all in pounds). Converting that, the average salary would be 43-44k. He's living with no family, and who were poor enough to likely not leave anything behind, so he probably has to work a lot to pay for his overseas school. However, he did do school at the same time, so I'll take 3/4s of the total salary to give him 33k a year.

charles: Given that being even an entry-level chemist requires at least a four year degree, I assume he may work as an assistant to one at the moment. They still make quite a bit of money, however, most making 37k-49k a year. The average is 49k, but there's a chunk of outliers around 82k, mostly from California, which is in the western US. Therefore, I think it's reasonable to suggest he makes something in the middle of the range I gave, giving him a salary of 43k. However, given that he was likely doing school at the same time and has parents to support him, who also seemed to shelter him a lot, he likely works part time. For part time, I'll cut the salary by half and say he probably earns 22k a year.

ace: Horse jockeys get paid per race, both for winning and participating, so this is a little harder to calculate. Most horse jockeys earn 53k-67k, but given that Ace is the Ultimate Jockey, this is a job where being skilled can really help you rise in the ranks, both of how much you can charge, and how often you win. It's also something that he could reasonably have a couple years of experience in given that they only need to be 16 years old to start professionally racing. Therefore, I would put him at the high end of the average or maybe even higher. I'll estimate 70k per year. Many horse jockeys drop out of school to focus on their job, so I'll leave him at that.

arei: This is also a little harder to calculate, because while you can bowl at any age, you can only join the Professional Bowlers Association once you turn 18. However, she could still compete for prizes in PBA Jr. and other smaller competitions. This year's PBA Jr. Competition gave 10k in scholarship money, but most competitions have at most a couple thousand dollars as the top reward, so I'll estimate she might make about 12k in a year? However, she lives with family still, so this is probably fine for her.

rose: rose is stated to have earned several millions doing forgery, so her previous salary would've been incredible. However, now she just does recreations of other paintings. None of the money goes to her, but if we still want to calculate it, the average reproduction artist earns 46k a year.

hu: I assume she likely does small venues where she plays the zither. According to a reddit post, the average earnings for a gig for a small musician is around $230, and assuming she does an average of one a week (some weeks she might do more, some weeks she might not do any), she'd earn about 12k a year.

eden: Eden is stated to both do clock making and clock repair. Most clock repairers make 36k-44k a year, averaging to 40k, and the average clock maker earns about 40k a year as well. She says that she can work 14 hours without breaks, implying she has some very long work days, possibly putting her slightly above the average at 42k.

levi: At first i thought Levi would make a lot because personal stylists sound like a rich people thing? But looking into it the average salary in the US ranges from 34k-50k a year, and since he states that he's relatively new to the field, he probably leans to the lower end of that. im gonna put him at 36k? He lives alone, so he likely works full time to pay for his living conditions.

arturo: Similar to Charles, he likely doesn't perform his actual job yet regularly. Half of all plastic surgeon assistants make somewhere between 22k-56k a year, with the halfway point at 37k. The median amount is around 44k. Given that he was likely working part-time, as he was probably in school at the same time, I'll cut that in half to give him a salary of 22k per year.

min: It's stated that her schooling up until this point was paid for by the spurling foundation, so i assume either the same is the case for her time in college, or her parents were able to save a lot of money to pay for it. Given this and how much time she puts into school, i assume she doesn't have a job.

david: This was a hard one to calculate. The average motivational speaker (I know he's called an inspirational speaker but in this case they're interchangeable) can make anything from 500 to 30k per speech, depending on their experience and skill. We know David is a well-known celebrity, being famous worldwide, but it's not to the degree that everyone in the class is shocked by his appearance, just Xander. If he work to make 10k a speech, and do one speech every two months, he'd be making 60k a year. In addition to this, many speakers have alternate sources of income, like book and channels. He's not stated to have these, but I'd assume he at least does smaller talks, maybe giving him another 10k a year?? As he's paid per speech, this doesn't require a lot of hours, so he probably is able to make full pay while also going to class. I'm not sure if this is a super accurate salary, but it's hard to get a gauge on it, so I'm going with 70k a year.

veronika: How does one make money as a horror fanatic? She mentions being a scholar in her field, so maybe she writes papers and small books on the subject. However, I'm a personal fan of the "deep dive youtuber" theory, so I'll calculate for both. For scientific papers, you can earn from a few hundred to a few thousand per paper. Given this kind of stuff takes at least a couple months of research, I'd say she would only make a few thousand a year. Maybe 10k if I'm being generous and giving her a 2k article every other month? Now, for the other idea, youtubers make about 2.5-7.5 dollars per thousand views on a video. If she gets an average of 800k views per video (with a couple million on some and a few hundred thousand on some), and makes 5 dollars per thousand, she'd be getting about 4k per video. Again, if she puts out a video every other month, this would be getting her 20k.

j: Special Effects artists make anywhere from 44k to 86k a year. The average is 68k, but most make either a bit more or a bit less, and given J's influence from her mother, I'd assume she's in the higher range. The highest category is 23% of people making 78k-86k, so I'll give her 80k. I'm not sure about whether she'd work fulltime or part time, because she definitely has the money to work part time because of her mother, but she might also try to make all her own money herself to spite her? I'm leaning that she works part time, so if I cut that in half she still makes 40k a year.

whit: The average professional matchmaker makes 42k-46k a year. The average is a clean 44k a year. Again, I'm not sure if he'd work part time or full time because we don't know much about his living situation. It's possible he needs to help support his single dad, so I'll put him at 3/4s of that, 33k.

nico: Most animal behavior specialists, which is what Nico says they are in their conversation with Xander, make 46k-53k a year, with an median of 48k. However, given they don't have a degree yet, I'll assume they make on the lower end of that, so 46k. They mention going to school, so they likely work part time, cutting that in half to give them a salary of 26k.

if anyone read this far thank you this took me like three hours HAHA

#drdt #danganronpa despair time #teruko tawaki #xander matthews #charles cuevas #ace markey #arei nageishi #rose lacroix #hu jing #eden tobisa #levi fontana #arturo giles #min jeung #david chiem #veronika grebenshchikova #j moreno #whit young #nico hakobyan #drdt analysis

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yandereonepieceimagines · 5 days ago

Note

Hi there! I’m the anon that asked for yan!kizaru, and you more than delivered with it!! Your yan!one piece blog is a breath of fresh air, bc from i’ve noticed there aren’t many, if not any such blogs now. The amount of details you include in your posts is just *mwah* *chef’s kiss*. I really love that banana man 😔. Reminds me to some extent of the man with the yellow hat from curious george 😭💀. Anyways, thanks again for it, it was a really great post!

So I’m back for more, if you don’t mind, while you’re at it do you think you could do a romantic yan!kuzan (feel free to decide whether it’s during or after the marines) hcs for reader both sfw and nsfw? Also, would his yandereness be any different when he’s a marine vs not?

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Oh my gosh, thank you so much for the kind words! 😄 They truly mean a lot to me. I'm really glad I can bring something fresh to the fandom. I've noticed the recent lack of posts like this too, so it's nice to hear it's appreciated!

Of course I don’t mind you coming back for more. Feel free to bombard me with the admirals anytime. 😉🤣

This post will focus on the pre-timeskip era, and I believe his yandere tendencies would be quite different during that period. It really depends on when, where, and how he meets his obsession. For instance, if that meeting had happened during his time as an admiral; or shortly after, he might not have even ended up joining Blackbeard’s crew at all.

If you're curious about how I’d interpret him in such moments, feel free to request that too! Or when he's in said crew, of course.

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Warning!: NSFW Below!

Kuzan Aokiji

SFW

* Kuzan first met you during a seemingly routine Marine check on a lawless island you were exploring. Despite the tension and professional setting, he made a shockingly bold suggestion near the end of the conversation, eyes half-lidded and voice low: "You know... You're just the kind of woman I'd freeze the whole sea for just to keep under me." The sheer audacity of it, delivered so lazily it almost felt like a dream, stunned the other marines nearby. You laughed it off, unsure if it was actually a joke. But from that moment, his gaze never left you.

* Your strength, autonomy and refusal to be categorized by Marine standards captivated Kuzan. He couldn't help but keep tabs on you under the guise of surveillance. He'd say that it's because you are too dangerous to be left unchecked. But the truth was far more personal. Your unpredictability and independence sparked something obsessive in him.

* Using Marine intel as cover, he monitored your every move. Not because he was ordered to, but because he needed to know where you were at all times. Being near you became part of his routine.

* Whenever he ran into you (by chance, of course), he'd offer vague, almost cryptic warnings. Remarks about how certain islands weren't "safe" or how you should "stick to more civilized places." You found them confusing, especially since you weren’t breaking any laws. But that was the point. Kuzan wasn’t warning you for your safety or for legal reasons. He was trying to subtly manipulate your course, steering you toward more populated islands where he'd have an easier time monitoring you... Or isolating you. Beneath the lazy charm was a calculated attempt to keep you within reach. Not as a Marine, but as a man quietly staking his claim.

* One night, you found yourself cornered by a group of pirates who thought you'd be easy prey. Before you could draw your weapon, a frozen path spiraled around you, trapping them all in blocks of ice. Kuzan stepped out from the shadows with a casual question if you were ok. That was the first time you suspected he might be watching you more closely than he should.

* You weren’t breaking any laws, but Kuzan still found himself at odds with his responsibilities. He hated how often his duties pulled him away from monitoring you, from subtly inserting himself into your life, from doing what he felt was necessary to secure his place in your world. Each time a mission demanded his attention elsewhere, it infuriated him in a way he barely understood. He started resenting the very uniform he wore, not because of what it stood for, but because it distracted him from you. And when he sensed you pulling away emotionally, when you grew distant or wary, he began delaying assignments and pulling strings. Not out of laziness, but to buy himself more time. Time to handle you delicately, to avoid driving you too far. He needed just enough leniency to keep you from slipping through his fingers and he would manipulate the system however he had to.

* Kuzan never raised his voice, but his words often held a chill if he felt like you drifted too far off. Especially when you began actively resisting his advances. It was only then, when your distance became more than just emotional, that he let a hint of something darker slip: "I’d hate to see you become an enemy. Then I’d have to stop you. And I don’t want to freeze something in place that I... like." His tone was flat, almost bored. But the weight behind it was unmistakable. It wasn’t a warning for what you'd become. It was a desperate assertion of what he still wanted you to be. His.

* Whenever you spoke with another man; even a local guide, Kuzan would show up shortly after, coincidentally patrolling the area. He never acted outwardly jealous, but you'd notice the frost creeping over nearby surfaces and the shift in his normally placid expression.

* Once, when he was summoned back to Marineford, he said with a simple, low and terrifying calmness: "If you disappear, I'll find you. Even if I have to freeze over every ocean to do it." He wasn’t threatening you. He was promising you.

NSFW

* When you finally gave yourself to him, Kuzan’s usual lethargy melted away. His hands, cold at first, trailed over your skin with reverence and hunger. He made sure you felt every differentiation. The chill of his fingertips and the heat pooling where he touched. Every movement was slow, deliberate and even a bit worshipful.

* Kuzan takes his time. He’s patient, thorough and completely focused on you. He knows exactly what he's doing and enjoys drawing every reaction out of you, especially when you try to maintain control. It’s the only time he abandons his lazy tone. Because when it comes to you, he's anything but passive.

* During intimacy, he speaks quietly and intimately. Low murmurs against your skin about how long he waited for this, how he knew you’d come to him eventually. His voice is a blend of calm and possession, calling you "mine" more than once, as if saying it aloud makes it permanent.

* Sometimes, he uses his Devil Fruit ability to carefully cool parts of your body during sex just so he can warm them up again with his mouth. He gets off on the contrast; the control, the sensation and the way your breath catches from the shock before melting back into pleasure.

* Afterwards, he’s wrapped around you like a glacier that doesn’t let go. He’s endlessly affectionate in a way that borders on obsessive. Holding you almost too tightly, murmuring about how he won’t let you out of his sight again. He watches your face, your breathing, your pulse… Everything. As if memorizing the moment in case it ever slips away.

* He still carries that slouched, sleepy air in public. But behind closed doors, he becomes intense, insatiable and deeply focused. You’re the only one who gets to see this version of him. The one who gives and takes without restraint, as though proving every time why you were right to choose him.

* Kuzan never threatens you after you’ve accepted him, no matter the circumstance. But there’s always that edge in the way he holds you, kisses you, touches you like he’s reminding you there’s no going back. He loves you far too much to ever let you go. And now that you’re his? You never will.

#one piece #reader insert #yandere #female reader #op #x reader #kuzan #aokiji #marine #yandere one piece

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quezzzs · 2 months ago

Text

Two champagne glasses of alcohol-base thirium clinked together as Markus and Connor took their sips of the refreshing liquid, both characters dressed well in clean and fashionable, suits

"I'm so glad you were able to make it for the festivities, Connor."

"How could I have forgotten? With your constant nagging and whining, it would be more surprising for me not to go."

Markus rolled his eyes playfully as he lightly punched Connor on his arm, the former deviant hunter only smirked as he held his own arm from the hit.

It was the both of them standing to the side of a well decorated inside venue, an only-android party(with the exception of a few human journalists for the media) for the one year celebration of the successful Android Revolution. It's crazy how the two friends having banter with each other used to be at opposite sides, even attempting an assassination.

Markus leans against the velvet like wall, swishing his glass around.

"I wasn't nagging you. I only kept reminding you since you haven't had much of a break recently from your police service. Also, congrats on the promotion as sergeant."

Connor made the same gesture as well, leaning next to Markus against the wall, his body language facing towards the RK200 to pay attention.

"Thank you," Connor smiled at the compliment before retorting Markus' side of the story. "But even so it's unnecessary to be given 3 reminders every two days."

"You're exaggerating."

"My statistics are proven to be highly accurate."

Markus' face grew bored as he groaned dramatically, only causing further amusement to the RK800. "I thought you dropped that habit."

"You know very well that I take pleasure in reading calculated numbers." The former deviant hunter shook his head and took another sip out of his drink.

A scoff was made by Markus from how ridiculous he found the reason to be. The two admired the sea of androids that interacted, engaged, and were seemingly having a great time. Neither of them had much in mind on what else to discuss but enjoyed being in each other's presence.

Markus felt comfortable in making a change to be able to be in the position he's in right now. No matter how hard it can get to deal with the press, angry protesters, and ignorant members of the government he's eternally grateful to bring his people to justice. But just because he is happy, doesn't mean he can go without some doubts and insecurities.

Just like how Connor feels right now.

He does want to be here, but in the moment he felt like he was suffocating just a little.

Connor never removed his LED because he was rather proud of his android nature, but one of the few cons of keeping it was that it can easily tell someone that he's processing something.

Markus quickly noticed the yellow color change on the LED and checked in on him. "Hey, you okay?"

Connor blinked repeatedly when he heard Markus, the LED staying the same as Connor struggled to convey his thoughts.

"It's just..." He trailed off as he continued to look at the crowded room before them. "I never thought I'd ever see myself here."

Markus tilted his head in confusion but interest. "Go on."

Connor's fingers tightened slight at his glass but relaxed himself once he made a deep breath.

"Do you ever...doubt yourself?"

...

"Sometimes, yeah. Why?"

"I can't find an understanding to why I think this way. Deviancy has brought me my own freedom, but I'm still filled with regret."

The gaze on Markus' face soften when Connor admitted that openly. He knew that the android struggled with making his own decisions at times due to past dependency on his programming although time has gone by.

Markus placed a hand on Connor's shoulder, encouraging him that it was alright to talk, to which Connor nodded his head and continued.

"To be here is a grand privilege. I'm only here because you were kind and helped me to open my eyes in order to go through my internal barriers," His brown eyes grew solemn, his fingertips tapping the half-finished glass as the blue liquid moved along the vibration.

"Sometimes, though, I still feel trap. No longer by an installed force but my own self."

Markus' hand slinks down from Connor's shoulder, listening to the words of conflict. He sighed and offered what he could.

"Connor, if I'm gonna be honest, I know what that's like. All that talk about being trapped by your own self, I get it."

Connor's LED finally changed to blue when he was informed of that news, his eyes were brought back some familiar light to it. "Truly?"

Markus nodded his head firmly, his lips pressed together for a second.

"I'm scared of myself too. I had managed to come all this way after winning something huge for our people and at the same time, I'm scared of bringing it all back down again. Sometimes, seeing other deviants leads me to think that, 'What if they had done a better job than me?' A better job at leading, and a better job at knowing what to do."

Leaning in closer, Connor held onto each sentence to Markus' mini speech as he kept on talking.

"I may have not gone through the same experiences you've went through, but I do know that we both are insecure of ourselves at certain points."

Connor only shrugged in response, unable to find how else to add on to what Markus is trying to say. Markus only gave a tender smile, his dual-colored eyes never leaving the cocoa colored ones.

"If you ever get those thoughts again, I'm always here to talk. I can try giving advice or if you just need to vent, no matter the case, you can talk to me."

Connor darted his eyes around to think about that suggestion before raising his head up again and showing some acceptance. "That would be appreciable."

"No problem."

Before they could progress with their exchange, a voice from afar called out to Markus. "Markus! Can you c'mere for a sec?" It was North and she had been in a really good mood tonight with how cheerful she sounded.

Markus turned to her then back at Connor to see if it would be alright. Connor gestured his hand to North, showing that he was fine with the decision.

With approval, Markus was just about to leave.

"Wait."

But he was stopped.

Markus turned around to Connor with a puzzled look as Connor set down his drink on one of the nearby tables.

"What is i-"

Connor had suddenly walked up really close in front of Markus has he examined his torso.

...

'When did it get hotter in here?' Markus thinks to himself

Connor raised his hands to the tie that Markus wore and adjusted it for him with careful movement.

This considerate motion made Markus feel a heavier thump to his thirium pump.

Connor then made sure the tie was on securely, his eyes making contact with Markus' blue and green ones.

"It was getting loose."

Markus swore he could see the faintest smile at the corner of Connor's mouth. He was baffled with what was happening.

"I- uh-"

He cleared his throat from the weird static sound that came out. "Thank you, Connor."

Connor chuckled breathlessly before removing his hands slowly from Markus' tie. "You're welcome, Markus."

Markus left Connor swiftly when given the opening. His thirium pump was still reacting weirdly. He managed to make it to where North had called him from.

She had seemed to witness all of that from the distance because she quirked an eyebrow up at Markus and asked, "What was that?"

"Nothing..." Markus avoided eye contact with her.

North stared at him skeptically. "Mhm..."

Unbeknownst to Markus, his face had shown a slightly dark blue on his cheeks.

Not like he needed to be told that.

...

An artist always had a muse Never to be expected but once found, the artist is forever infatuated in their passion of recreating what can't be fully replicated

#dbh #detroit become human #dbh connor #dbh markus #rk1k #cutesy moments😋#i just took inspo from my failed x oc fanfic #i like this a lot better tho #also i added la campanella just cuz

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