#what if one day someone decides to write a fic and is doing research or something

[johnnytoronto]

[jenchan-writingmultis]

Twisted Wonderland Boys x Fem Reader in their respective Fairytales (Series)

(Idia's Part)

Previous part (Kalim)

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A/n: Out of every housewarden, I felt like sobbing writing Idia's cause of how fluffy he is, I love him so much. Content Warning: This Fic will be tagged as 16+ since it is a bit suggestive along with mentions of Gorey themes (Azul), it’s very vague. I haven’t finished Book 6 and Book 7 because I’m stuck in Tartarus, but they’re not done here yet. Potential Inaccuracy in Indian Tradition, Indian and Greek clothing, if ever you see inaccuracy about it, please let me know, I only did a bit of research about it. The reason for potential OOC was cause I mixed both the classic Villains with the personalities of our beloved boys. You have a child with Kalim here!

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First Batch would be: Riddle, Leona, Azul

Second Batch would be: Kalim, Idia, Malleus

List of Villains interconnecting with each character:

Kalim = The sultan Idia = Hades ─────❅───── Idia: The underworld has always been Idia’s little comfort zone, although at first, he didn’t want to rule it, due to how depressing it gets sometimes, but along with his brother Ortho who takes care of “outside” activities, aka meetings with those overbearing gods and goddesses who think they’re better than anyone, he didn’t mind the work as long as it’s with him. So far, his duties were all just about guiding souls into whatever the fuck they want or are allowed to go, honestly if they all became lost souls, he wouldn’t give a flying damn.

One day, however, an odd discrepancy appeared in the calculations of souls being accepted—an unregistered soul had entered the narrative. Concerned, he strolled toward the portal of Tartarus to investigate. When he peered inside, a sudden flash of blinding light erupted, disorienting him. Before he could react, a heavy force slammed into his body, causing him to stumble.

“What the!” he grunted, feeling a heavy body on top of him, he rubbed his head, opening his eyes, adjusting to the sudden light-to-darkness transition.

You stirred, finding your hands pinning him down. His eyes widened in shock as he pushed you off, scrambling backward so quickly that he hit his back on the wall with a loud slam.

“What In the world?!” he screeched, his hair glowing brightly meaning he was incredibly nervous, while you seemed to be lost, standing up, you pat away the dust off your outfit, taking notice of Idia who still was pressed on the wall.

“Idia?” you went closer to him, he looked like an angry kitten, glaring at you at first but the moment you got closer he stiffens up, pushing his hands to protect himself from you.

“Stay back! You anomaly!” he shouted that it echoed around the empty room, you were taken aback, “Idia, it’s me.” you said, eyebrows knitting in frustration.

“H-how do you know my name?” he asked, looking at you confusedly, were you sent by his other brother who he doesn’t even think of one, Zeus? You look kind of angelic so there’s a suspicion.

“Idia, you’re my boyfriend” Wow point blank you decided to kill him with those words, boyfriend his ass, what boyfriend, all he knows is that he prefers to be single than have a lover, also he wants to add that you are way out of his league, there’s no way you like him that way, and this is the first time you met him, was there a camera around here? The edited laughter? Where is it? He’s waiting for that to come.

Realizing that he was overthinking again, you snapped your fingers catching his attention; stating your name you tried to see if you got any reaction, but nothing. He really didn’t remember you.

You were going to be saddened by this, if it weren’t for the fact that the tips of his hairs had a slight pink on it meaning was still a chance for you to get your boyfriend back.

Okay, you two might be misunderstanding things, while Idia was observant, he can’t think straight when he’s in front of someone, his black and blue robe being a perfect cover for himself, he even had a hoodie knitted for him to cover his hair with.

You noticed that he was taller than before, raising your eyebrow, you grabbed his arm, which made him freeze up, looking at you like you just harassed him, his sweat drops. “What?”

“Since when did you get taller?” you asked, he slides your hand off of his arm, rubbing it a bit, “I don’t know?” he answered confusedly, before waving his hand dismissively, “No more questions, I’m bringing you back to Zeus” he grumbled, his stupid brother playing pranks on him again.

“What? Zeus?” you walked faster to catch up on him when he started speedwalking away, “Y’know, God of Olympus?” he said, weirded out why you didn’t know Zeus, everyone knows him.

“Wait, Zeus as in the God from long ago?” you asked further, which made Idia stop his tracks, turning to look at you, his figure looming, he looked like a grim reaper when he stands with you before, but now it’s more evident.

“What do you mean long ago?” he asked as bewildered as you are, why are you acting this way anyways? Anomaly that popped out of nowhere and almost giving him a concussion and right now you’re giving him a migraine, what’s next huh? brain aneurysm?   

“Are you not my Idia?” you frowned, looking at him closer, he exhibited a different style, he was taller, slightly shorter hair, bluish skin instead of pale.

“Your” Idia? What does that mean?

The more you open your mouth the more questions pop out, sighing he decided to cover your mouth with his hand. “Please… just shut up for a minute”

Okay, first theory! You’re not from around here, I mean you just got spat out like trash by the Tartarus and suddenly proclaiming that he’s your boyfriend, he feels bad for you, your standard is in hell if you’re dating him, you’re pretty too, a disrespect to your face really.

Second theory, which he’s leaning on more, you’re a spy sent by his brother Zeus; to make him fall for you and you break his heart and upload it to magicam or something.

If you think he’s self-deprecating too much, please, he’s just being realistic with the situation.

“First off, I am not yours” he clarified, lifting his hands as if he’s surrendering to you. “I never met you in my whole life, you’re cute but no”

Rejected by your own boyfriend, you wanted to pinch his cheeks for it, you were going to be hurt by this, but the thing is, the way he acts reminded you of the first stages of your relationship with him, he wasn’t the best with it.

“Okay,” you said, being short with him, for some reason that made him feel bad, scratching the back of his neck, he wanted to hold your cheek or hand to comfort you, an odd feeling.

“Sorry- I mean if you want to, I can act like your boyfriend or something” he murmured, his voice gradually decreasing to the point you barely heard the last words.

“It’s fine Idia, no need” not wanting to force him into that kind of thing, however, you noticed that his little fire hair started to fizzle out, panicking a bit you touched his hand, holding it, “wait I mean, okay, sure we can act”

Phew, that got his fire back up, lucky you. “Okay…” he said awkwardly coughing as he uses his tech to call for Ortho. “Ortho, can you come here?”

Ortho was impressively fast with going back to the underworld, looking the same except his clothes or rather his cyborg parts looked Greek like, it explains why you were wearing a tunic.

“Scan her” Idia said, using his eyes to signal ortho who to scan, in which Ortho grins brightly. “Okay!”

You stayed still as Ortho used his eyes to scan you, it was something that came natural for you, especially since your Ortho does that often.

“So?” Idia asked, leaning on the wall, Ortho shook his head, looking conflicted. “Nope, she doesn’t have any data around Ancient Greece, or anywhere”

“Huh” he didn’t seem surprised. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, patting Ortho’s head. “Yeah! I did another scan but there’s no indication of her presence anywhere.

So, you really were just transported by Tartarus to Ancient Greece, connecting the dots, that means Idia here is…

Noticing you staring at him in deep thought He smiles a bit, you looked funny thinking like that, pouty and all. “Since you’re really not from here, my name is Idia, God of the Underworld, and this is Ortho, my brother.” Ortho waves at you enthusiastically and he was genuinely surprised that his brother introduced him instead of himself.

“I know” you hummed, crossing your arms. “I told you already, we’re dating- “

Idia tried to cover your mouth before you spout that out but failed as Ortho’s eyes widens. “You’re dating my brother in the other world?! You mean there’s another version of us in your world?”

Oh dear, you’re in it now.

Ortho basically asked you plenty of questions, already happy that his brother pulled someone like you, you were gorgeous!

Idia was a bit happy you got along with his brother, he sometimes feels bad that he keeps Ortho in such a depressing place instead of being a normal kid outside and playing.

Also he can’t help but get flustered whenever you randomly get physically affectionate with him, he’s been trying to find a way to get you back in your world, but it’s proving to be difficult since Tartarus maybe his domain, but it’s a system that’s entirely independent from him, think of it as the pity system in his gacha games, even if you hit enough 80 pulls, it doesn’t guarantee the limited character you want.

But, as long as he can, Idia tries to make sure every time he hangs out with you is worthwhile, it’s the first time he made effort to spend time with someone, when he’s off work, he finds himself going to the guest room, asking if you wanted to come eat with him and Ortho, or sometimes, you end up in his room, playing a two-player game with him.

Ever since you came into his life, he started going out of his room more, back then he usually just… does his work and go to his room. That’s all Now he’s trying to go outside more, especially when Ortho told him that to get you back faster was by “thinking outside the box” which just meant that he should go touch some grass and let the gears in his brain think of a solution.

He didn’t really know when he fell for you, but he noticed it when you were outside with him, in the largest field that had nothing but nature around. The outfit that Ortho lend you fits your palette so perfectly, it almost made him want to take a picture.

You were admiring the view while glancing around, picking up flowers.

Confused with what you were doing he walked to you. “Hey what-“ getting cut off as you shove a bouquet of flowers on his chest, a ribbon clumsily wrapped around the stems of the flowers.

“For you” you said, smiling, making his heart skip a bit, he accepted the gift as Ortho called out for you, giving him a glance before you grab his collar, pulling him down to kiss his cheek before walking away.

That got his hair to burn bright pink, shaking from the adrenaline, he coughed awkwardly, hopefully, Ortho didn’t see what you did.

Well, he’s having a hard time finding a way to send you back home, so… it might take a while.

─────❅───── A/n: ACCCCCCK IDIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ILYSM ༼;´༎ຶ ۝ ༎ຶ༽ Malleus' Part

[cosmicdahlias]

You Know What You Do To Me

a ford x reader fic

MINORS DNI

You work as Ford’s assistant, you’ve been teasing him by acting like a little harlot. You went too far and now you’re going to be punished for it.

warnings: smut, oral, mdom

i’ve really enjoyed writing these fics! it’s been so long since i’ve been passionate about something like this 😭

It was another afternoon working at the Mystery Shack. You were dusting shelves, thinking about later tonight. You had two jobs, by day you sold overpriced knickknacks for your boss, local con artist Stan Pines, and by night you worked for his brother, Stanford. Before he even came back through the portal you were a big fan of his work, Dipper regularly lent you the journals during your breaks. You pored over the material, longing to meet the author.

When you met him it was a typical day, typical as things get in Gravity Falls. You were helping Soos fix up the place after the town had turned upside down, he filled you in on the cause. A portal, Stan had a brother who had been missing for 30 years, and more importantly this brother was the mysterious author you so desperately wanted to meet.

You were in the process of nailing a shelf back to the wall when you heard a door open behind you. You turned to see a man who looked nearly identical to Stan, but better posture, and somehow… cooler. You knew instantly this must be the man behind the journals. Your heart skipped a beat, not just from the excitement of finally getting to see the author, but because you couldn’t get over how handsome he was.

He looked at you and you felt yourself turn into a puddle. You could’ve sworn you saw his cheeks flush slightly, but convinced yourself you were seeing things.

“OH MY GOD THE AUTHOR IS LOOKING RIGHT AT ME!!! BE COOL!!! BE COOL!!!” You thought rapidly.

He made his way over to you and extended a hand to you, six fingers, the symbol on the journal’s cover made so much sense.

“Stanford Pines, you must be one of Stanley’s employees.”

“Y/n. You’re… the author of the journals.”

“You’ve read my journals?”

There it was again, the faintest tint of red on his cheeks.

“Yeah, multiple times. Your nephew lends them to me sometimes. I’ve always been into the weird and paranormal.”

“Well it’s always a pleasure to find someone who appreciates my life’s work.”

-

In the weeks that followed Ford would ask you to become his assistant. He insisted he was getting too old to do these things on his own. You loved working with him, unraveling the mysteries of this town. It gave you a sense of purpose.

The tension between you two was more than palpable, but neither of you had been willing to admit it to each other yet. Your time together was filled with stolen glances and flushed cheeks.

As you finished dusting a snow globe your mind wandered to your mentor. You had been pushing the limits lately, trying to get his attention. You wore more and more revealing clothes, you would drop your pen just to have an excuse to bend over in front of him, you would find reasons to stand close to him. You could tell it was driving him crazy, he would awkwardly excuse himself and disappear for ten to fifteen minutes, returning breathless.

But you started to think yesterday might have gone too far. You were sitting to the right of him as he was writing in his research notes, you pulled up your skirt slightly, slipping a hand down to your-

“Y/n, can we talk?”

You jumped, Ford had a habit of moving silently. A valuable skill when you’ve spent the last 30 years in other dimensions constantly staring death in the face.

You let your heart rate settle. “Yeah, sure.”

“Good, follow me.” He motioned you with his hand.

You both walked down the stairs to the basement where his lab resided, he turned to face you.

“Look, y/n, I know what you’ve been doing.”

You turned scarlet. You decided to feign ignorance.

“What do you mean?”

He exhaled a deep breath, massaging his temples. “Don’t play this game with me, you know exactly what you’re doing to me. Wearing shorter and shorter skirts, giving me bedroom eyes, finding any reason to bend over in front of me, and then yesterday-” he paused “yesterday you went out of your way to drive me crazy. You sat next to me, hiking up your skirt and you-“

He drew a shuddering breath, stepping awfully close, his chest almost touching yours “teased your clit over your panties, knowing full well you were in my peripherals. And you did that on purpose, stopping whenever I looked your way just to torture me, not letting me savor such a gorgeous view. I thought about you all night, I came with your name leaving my lips. And now-“ he pulled out a chair “you’re going to sit in front of me and touch yourself.”

“Ford-“

“No, you were so eager to do it yesterday, what’s stopping you now?”

You felt yourself grow wet under his words, you sat yourself down in front of him.

“Take off your panties, go ahead, take them off.”

You slipped the fabric down your legs and off your ankles letting them drop to the floor in front of you.

“Spread your legs, let me see you. Pull that skirt up.”

You obeyed his instructions.

“Now, slip a finger in your cunt and use your wetness to stroke your clit.”

You let your finger travel down to your dripping pussy, you traced little circles on your clit. You let out a sigh, Ford was watching you touch yourself, you had dreamed of this.

A growl rumbled in his throat, he watched you hungrily. His cock strained in his pants, he wanted to touch himself, but he couldn’t, not yet. You moaned softly, your brow furrowing in concentration.

“Faster, don’t stop.”

You picked up your pace, rubbing frantically, your moans growing louder, echoing through the lab. You hoped no one upstairs could hear you.

“Tell me how it feels.” He demanded.

“Mmmh, Ford, it feels so good.” You whimpered.

“That’s right, I know it does.”

He stepped close to you, a hand on the back of the chair, looking straight at you. You could smell him, fresh pine and leather. Your breathing became shallow and erratic, you were getting close. Ford could sense it.

“Are you going to cum?”

“Y- yes.”

“Good, look at me.”

You locked eyes with him, he stared at you intently. The feeling on your clit was becoming overwhelming, you were going to cum, dear god you were going to cum for him.

“Nhhh, ah hah, Ford.” You pathetically whimpered out, you couldn’t form a real sentence if you tried.

You felt yourself right on the edge, god you loved this, you loved putting on a show for him, you gritted your teeth in anticipation.

“Stop.”

“Wh- what?”

“You heard me, stop touching yourself.”

You withdrew your hand, your orgasm ruined.

“Why did you- I don’t understand.”

“You’ve been teasing me for weeks, with yesterday being the final straw. Now you’re going to see how it feels. Actions have consequences and you’re going to learn that. You don’t get to cum.”

He pulled you up by your arm, he grabbed your face and kissed you sloppily in pure hunger and desire. He let you go and dropped his hands to his belt buckle, undoing it.

“You need to see what you’re doing to me.”

He slipped his pants down enough to reveal his thick, hard cock. Fuck, he’s big. You bit your lip instinctively.

“Stroke my cock, now.”

You wrapped your hand around his shaft, your thumb massaging the head. He let out a groan of approval and you began pumping his cock. He started kissing and sucking on your neck, he was going to mark you so everyone knew you were his property. He started to buck into your hand, a bead of precum forming at the head. He throbbed, moaning into your neck.

He took your face in his hands again, god you loved when he looked at you.

“Get on your knees and take my cock in your mouth.”

“Yes sir.”

He throbbed at “sir” no one had ever called him that, he liked it. He made a mental note to encourage you to keep saying it.

You dropped to your knees and took his full length in your mouth.

“Fuuuck baby you’re so good at this, no one’s ever taken me all the way down before.”

He grabbed a fistful of hair and began fucking your mouth aggressively. You choked and pulled back. He chuckled.

“Oh poor baby, guess I spoke too soon, I’m sorry sometimes I forget how hard it is to handle a cock like mine.” He taunted while stroking your chin with his thumb. “I’ll try to slow down, it helps if you make an effort to breathe out of your nose.”

He resumed face fucking you, this time with a slightly more gentle rhythm, but you still felt the inclination to gag. You attempted to steadily breathe out of your nose and felt the urge subside. He clenched his jaw and picked up his pace again, you were really struggling to take him, he liked it that way.

His hips stuttered and bucked against your mouth. He could feel his orgasm rising.

“Baby slow down, slow down you’re gonna make me cum.”

You decided to ignore him, continuing to work your mouth on his cock.

“Stopstopstopstop. Stop!” He growled.

He seized your hair and pulled you off of his cock, knocking you backward. He reached out a hand and pulled you to your feet, then raised a hand and brought it down hard on your ass.

“You need to listen to me, next time I won’t be so nice.”

You savored the idea of being left with a six fingered welt. He lowered his hands to your hips and spun you around. He pressed himself against your back, his hard cock throbbing on your ass. His hand gripped your throat and he whispered in your ear.

“I’m going to fuck you senseless until I finish inside of you and you’re not going to cum, do you understand?”

You nodded fervently.

“Good, you’re so cute when you listen.” He said while slipping his thumb in your mouth.

He bent you over his desk, papers falling to the floor, one hand gripping your shoulder, the other on your hip. He pressed the tip of his cock into you before forcing the rest of his length inside of you. You started to scream out in pleasure, but Ford instinctively clasped a hand over your mouth.

He slapped your ass again. “Quiet, stardust, do you want everyone to hear you?”

He began to pump his cock inside of you, his hips slapping against your ass. You tightened around him and he groaned loudly.

“God I love the way your pussy squeezes my cock, it’s so fucking perfect.” He panted between thrusts.

He fucked you with a brutal intensity. He was doing this for his own pleasure, not yours. Like he said, you didn’t get to cum, not after what you had done yesterday. He pulled out and you whined, paused for effect and slammed himself back in. You threw your head back, moaning his name.

It felt so goddam good to finally fuck you like this after all the moments he had to steal himself away from his work to just to stroke his cock because you were incessantly teasing him. He had imagined you bent over his desk like this thousands of times. The image of you taking his cock like a good little whore was all the could picture whenever he caught you staring at him.

His grip on your shoulder and hip tightened, nails digging into your flesh. He was fucking you faster and faster, he wanted so badly to know what cumming in you felt like. You started to move your hips back onto him. Oh my god he couldn’t believe you wanted him this badly.

“Goddammit yes baby fuck back on my cock like that, you’re gonna make me fucking cum.”

You whimpered in approval.

“Would you like that stardust? Huh? Do you want me to cum inside of you?”

All you could manage was a weak “Uh huh.”

He panted like a dog, he was gonna breed you like one. Sweat began go form on his forehead, his glasses fogging.

“You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted this, wanted you. When I first met you I thought you were so fucking beautiful. I spent that night stroking myself to the cute Mystery Shack employee. I thought it was just a lonely old man’s fantasy that you would ever show me any interest, but then you started working for me and you would look at me with those eyes. God those eyes, so full of lust and want.”

You felt his cock throb inside you, he was close.

“I’m going to fill you up, have you dripping with my cum. Tell me you want it, I want to hear you beg.”

“Please, I need your cum in me. I need it so bad.”

“Call me sir.”

“Ahhh, hah, please sir, cum in me.”

He moaned loudly as he fucked you with a ruthless intensity. He buried himself deep in you as he came, your name escaping his lips. He didn’t stop fucking you, the feeling was overwhelming but he couldn’t help himself.

For a while there was nothing but the sounds of your heavy breaths. He began to slowly pull his cock out of you, cum spilling onto the floor. Jesus fucking christ he needed to draw this later.

You stayed bent over his desk, legs shaking. He grabbed you by your waist and pulled you onto his lap as he sat in his desk chair.

“Are you alright? I didn’t take it too far, did I?” He said stroking your hair.

“N- no, it was incredible.” You said between haggard breaths.

“Good, now here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to go upstairs and finish the rest of your shift. You are to keep your panties off and let my cum slowly drip out of you. And then later tonight you’ll stay here and I’ll reward you by letting you cum on my tongue and cock, if, and only if you heed my instructions. Do we have a deal, stardust?”

Your heart thumped wildly in your chest. Having Ford to yourself all night? Holy fucking shit yes.

“Deal.” You smiled.

“That’s my baby.” He said cupping your chin and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

-

You ascended up the creaking stairs back to work. Mind still buzzing with the moment you had just shared with Ford.

“There you are. I was startin’ to think you ditched, but then I- whoa, what happened to you, kid? You look like you’ve been hit by a bus.” Stan said in his gruff voice.

You caught your reflection in the window, your hair was a mess. You quickly attempted to fix it.

“Ah, uh, I was just helping Ford fix some stuff.”

Stan stared at you for a second before a smirk creased his lips.

“Oh yeah I bet he fixed you real good, kid.”

You turned beet red “No, that’s not what I-“

He laughed. “Look, I’m just happy you two finally hooked up. I was gettin’ real sick of watching you two ogle at each other like horny repressed teenagers. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a bet to settle with Wendy.”

“Great, Stan. Thanks for not making things awkward.”

[andypantsx3]

TODOROKI SHOUTO : MASTERLIST

please be respectful! do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or otherwise share on other platforms. all my reader characters are fem + afab unless otherwise specified. please see individual fic posts for nsfw ratings and other warnings!

shouto writing tag | universal masterlist

MULTI-CHAPTER

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[smutty one shot follow on: say the word and you know i'll follow]

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ONE SHOTS

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[a smutty one shot sequel to if i could keep cool]

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Shouto gets handsy when he's drunk.

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Shouto goes little shit mode. You (and Class A) suffer.

[astrolynnworld]

Can I have a Chris fluff where he lifts the readers bump?

baby bump

pairings: chris x reader

summary: your back has been killing your active pregnancy. chris does whatever he can to relive that ache

warnings: fluff, pregnancy, sad thoughts, reassurance, comfort, love

a/n: in this fic, you and chris are already married

word count: 662

it’s been almost 8 months since i found out that chris & i were having a baby girl.

i wanted to do the whole gender reveal theatrics but chris and i both agreed that we did not want to wait.

when we revealed the pregnancy to our family and friends, it was like endless masses of support.

everyone congratulated us, gave us money, sent gifts, and offered endless hours of help.

there are still gifts coming into this day.

although the pregnancy is starting to overwhelm me.

The cravings, the nausea, the headaches, and the pain that finds itself everywhere, especially my back.

it’s so hard for me to do the tasks that I once enjoyed.

I feel bad for chris because a once active wife had probably just become a burden to him.

I hated this thought, but I was left with no other choice when I would see Chris pick up everything that I used to do.

he was switched to start working at home so he could take care of me, our baby, and our home.

tonight I thought I would surprise him by making dinner to reward him for all his generosity and support with our new lifestyle that I was trying to adjusted too.

he had went to the store to go pick up a few items for the house that we have been needing, so i took this moment as an opportunity.

half an hour into cooking, my back starts to ache really badly. i decide to sit because i realize that i had been standing for a while

I take a five minute break, but this does not stop the ache.

I get back up to finish dinner since i had only had a few more steps left to complete in the recipe.

but, as im finishing up i hear keys start to unlock the door along with bags tussling as footsteps enter the house.

“babe?” chris calls out

“im in the kitchen” i respond

he follows the sound of my voice

“babe what are you doing? you’re supposed to be resting.” his voice says laced with concern

“i just wanted to surprise you with someone special. you’ve been doing a lot for me and i want to show you my gratitude” i say back in a soft tone

“baby.. you’re pregnant with our kid right now. do you really think you’re the one that needs to be showing gratitude to me?” he asks with a soft smirk

i smile at his rhetorical question

“i will never be able to show you enough gratitude for how much you mean to me and how lucky i am that you stick beside me everyday” he says while wrapping his hands around my back to give me a tight hug

i coo at the added pressure

“im sorry, did that hurt?” he asks with concern

“no, you’re fine. my back has just been aching all day.” i complain

“can i try something?” he asks

i nod my head yes with a bit of confusion.

he gently puts his hands under my belly and lifts its slowly.

the released pressure on my back and pelvis felt like heaven.

i drop my head on his shoulder as a sign of relief.

“i did not know about this relief tactic” i state with shock laced in my tone

“yeah. i did my research about the do’s and don’t’s with a pregnancy wife!” chris replies

i laugh at his humor

“i love you so much christopher.” i say as i lift my head up and look into his eyes

“i love you so much much y/n” he responds back.

he bends his head down to give me a kiss on the lips.

“now lets turn off this stove and get you into bed. you did enough for tonight.” he says while switching off the stove letting the, now cooked, food shimmer down.

he grabs my hand and guides me back to our bedroom.

———————————————————————

a/n: this was so cute to write, i loved it! hope you guys love as well

[soireegurl]

i have this idea for a fic but i cant write, lol so im dropping it in your ask box cause youre like the best yandere writer i know on here so here it is:

you running away from yandere!heeseung when you had the chance, then you encountered a nice guy (i imagine to probably be sunghoon) and then you tell him all bout you running away, heeseung, all that stuff. butttt here's the twist.. hoon has been stalking you for a looong time so yeah kind of like reader got away from a yandere just to end up with another yandere 💥

Omggg thank you for writing in! I'm so glad to hear that from you 😊 here it is sorry for the long wait! Hope you like it!

You’d been running for days, constantly looking over your shoulder, heart pounding. Heeseung, with his unsettling gaze and obsessive demeanor, was always one step behind. It was terrifying, knowing that someone so fixated was out to find you.

His words and actions are no doubt trauma for you.

It started all nice and romantic, Heeseung was the sweetest guy you've ever met and no doubt, you have fallen in love with this beautiful man. But things started to get handy.

Ever since you guys officially got together, he has been possessive. Like to an extreme amount.

To the point where you felt suffocated and scared. You tried to talk to him about it but he always turned to the same behaviour.

You couldn't take it anymore and decided to break up with him... Which obviously didn't turn out well.

"Heeseung... I... I'm sorry. I... Let's break up."

You said not looking at him. You didn't want to see any of that madness in his eyes.

"Baby... Was that a joke? Or..."

His tone wasn't warm.... It was cold. As if, if you said "no" the next second, he would tear you into pieces.

But you can't let fear over take you.

"No. I'm serious Heeseung. I want to break up with you."

And there... Boom!

You ended up in his basement for 3 weeks.

For 3 weeks, you have been trying to run. Of course failing almost every time.

But that day... You finally got out of his grip.

Then, amidst your frantic escape, you stumbled upon someone who seemed like a beacon of calm.

Sunghoon, with his warm smile and kind eyes, offered you a moment of respite.

You poured your heart out, telling him everything: how you’d been fleeing from Heeseung, how his intense obsession made your life a nightmare.

Sunghoon listened patiently, offering comforting words and seeming genuinely concerned. You felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe you’d finally found safety.

"I'm sorry to hear that Y/n... I'm here now... I will take care of you..."

But as the days went on, you began to notice little things. Sunghoon was always there, just when you needed him. It seemed like he had an uncanny ability to show up at the right place and time.

"Oh? Sunghoon? What are you doing in my house?"

"Here! I bought you some chocolate. I thought you might need this right now."

"Oh my god that's so sweet of you... How did you know that I am in desperate need of this right now?"

You smiled and took the chocolate from his hand.

"Every time you fail a test, you always get chocolates to cheer yourself up, don't you?"

He said with a proud smile.

But... You have never told him that... And you never told him that you failed your most recent test...

So... How does he know?

But at that time, you were too innocent to even notice this was odd.

Eventually, a year later, you and Sunghoon got into a relationship.

One evening, as you were looking through Sunghoon's phone, as your phone ran out of battery and you desperately needed a phone to do some research.

Curiousity got into you and somehow, you decided to open up Sunghoon's gallery.

you came across something unsettling. A series of photos you didn’t remember taking.

They showed you in various locations, from moments of vulnerability to everyday scenes.

Your heart sank as you realized these were taken by Sunghoon.

Confronting him, you saw a shift in his demeanor. His warm smile faded, replaced by a more intense, calculating gaze.

You sensed danger. Your body is telling you to run, and of course, you followed what your body told you to do.

You ran for your life.

Why have you never noticed anything?

“You didn’t think you’d escape that easily, did you?” he whispered next to your ears and he caught up to you.

"I didn't plan all this just to let you escape..."

He said and smirked.

"What... What do you mean?"

"You know... I could have just given you a backup phone... I'm not that stupid Y/n.."

"I want you to know how much I love you... And you should love me as much too..."

The realization hit hard. You had run from one yandere, only to fall into the grasp of another.

Sunghoon’s obsession, hidden behind a facade of kindness, was just as consuming.

The cycle of escape and obsession seemed never-ending, leaving you to confront the stark reality of your situation.

[farfromstrange]

Do No Harm

CHAPTER ONE: Night Shift

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Matt has to accompany Foggy to the ER in the middle of the night because he dislocated his shoulder. In need for some peace and quiet, Matt wanders the halls of Metro General and instead finds you crying in one of the abandoned hallways. A conversation ensues.

Warnings for this chapter: Slight angst, mention of injury.

Word Count: 4.3k

A/n: My brain gets the strangest ideas for fics and then I have to write them or else I will go crazy. This is how this baby was born. Keep in mind, I’m not a doctor. I simply watch a lot of medical dramas and I like to research medical terms for the fun of it. Heed the warnings for the entire series (see Series Masterlist) but also chapter-specific warnings that apply, as seen above. I hope you enjoy!

Read Chapter 1: Night Shift here on AO3

Ever since he can remember, Matt has hated hospitals. The antiseptic scent that lingers in the air, the sterile white walls that seem to close in around him—it all brings back memories of days spent in agony, tied to an uncomfortable bed, and seeing nothing but an endless void of black.

He can only tune out so much. The stench, the sirens, and the overlapping voices in an emergency room—they could easily kill him. 

Hospitals remind him of what he lost. He lost his vision, he lost his father and in the process, he lost his innocence. Matt lost everything, and even though he is well aware that it isn’t the hospital’s fault that he decided to save a man or that his father made a deal with the devil and got himself killed, he still hates the same empty walls that made him feel so small to begin with.

Matt doesn’t want to be a liability, he doesn’t want to be the reason the people he loves get hurt, and yet it continues to happen time and time again.

Maybe he’s cursed. It’s the only explanation for how things are going for him now. Maybe God has a grudge and finally decided to exercise his right to make his life a living hell. There is an infinite number of possibilities, but none of them make sense. 

He’s the anti-hero of his own story and that of everyone else who has ever dared to let him into their lives. He’s his own worst enemy, his personal saboteur. His unwavering pride has a tendency to get in the way of his happiness, which often leads to more bad than good, but admitting that would leave him vulnerable and exposed—and he can’t let himself get hurt again. 

It’s better to push the people he loves away before he can hurt them and force them to walk out on him the same way everyone else in his life has walked out on him ever since he can remember. At least in his twisted mind, that’s true. 

He never thought he would find himself in Metro General again, not since Claire came into his life. Claire, the caring nurse who saved him when he was on death’s door and continued doing so until she realized that falling for the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen comes with its own set of risks. 

Foggy dislocated his shoulder. 

It’s almost laughable. Out of everyone, he chose Matt to come to the hospital with him. Not Karen, Matt. He had the choice between the most empathetic person either of them have ever met, and Matt, someone so far out of touch with his own feelings, living in denial has become the standard for him. Foggy chose the latter, for whatever reason he doesn’t even seem to know himself. It just felt like the most natural thing to do, he told Matt when he asked his best friend, “Why me?”

He should feel honored that he trusts him that much, but being trapped in the sterile four walls of the hospital he only connects bad memories to while Foggy is stuck in the queue for an X-ray feels more like torture than an honorable act. 

The loud, demanding voices of the nurses, the painful groans and soft cries coming from the patients in the waiting area of the emergency room a few doors down, and the obnoxious beeping of the machines lining the walls in every room are like a swarm of bees in Matt’s inner ear. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t get them out. He’s allergic to them.

The room smells of disinfectant, blood, and other bodily fluids. He tries to focus on his cologne and the scentless laundry detergent he has grown so accustomed to over the years, but the balm only lasts for a few seconds before the wound reopens and his senses are flooded.

Matt keeps rhythmically tapping his fingers on his thigh. How much longer he can sit on this uncomfortable plastic chair in front of the radiology area and wait for Foggy to return, he doesn’t know. It won’t be long now until he loses his mind. He is about to drown in his own misery.

He feels the desperate urge to land his fist in the wall next to him. He wants to scream, cry, maybe even both—this night is not going well. He hasn’t had a good night in weeks. Tonight though, he’s stuck in the hospital rather than outside, doing something against the injustice he is forced to listen to every day.

The hits he took the previous night were pretty severe, and his ribs still hurt. The numb ache that tears through him whenever he moves is a temporary relief from the pain induced by the noise around him. Whatever bits of sanity he tries holding onto eventually slip through his fingers. 

Eventually, he can’t take it anymore. He gets up, his head tilting toward Foggy’s elevated heartbeat. He’s still in line. Fifth, probably.

Matt taps his cane against the floor, making his way down the hallway. He’s not quite sure where he’s going or where he will land, he just knows that he needs to get out of there as fast as possible.

Rounding the hundredth corner of the evening, the sound of clattering metal trays and medical supplies disappears behind layers of drywall and automatic doors. Matt takes a moment, and he realizes that right here—right where he is now—he can finally breathe again.

The sound travels more easily. The air wafting through the vents and over the cotton sheets on a row of empty beds is the only sound that meets his ears. They’re lined against one side of the wall. The rooms are empty, the doors locked. It seems as if in a moment of desperation, he found his way to one of the abandoned parts of the hospital. 

A lack of funding caused Metro General to cut their losses. It certainly wasn’t an easy decision, but with capitalism on the rise, public hospitals are barely holding on.

Even though the truth is depressing, Matt still can’t believe his luck when he realizes how quiet it is. That may be a selfish thought, but he can't help it. The world is always so loud and uncomfortable. Finding someplace quiet after torturing himself in the waiting room for hours feels like heaven on earth on such a busy night.

The fog dulling his senses finally dissipates. He takes a deep breath. The air is cleaner here. No disinfectant, only the faint scent of plastic and dust; he wouldn't have thought it possible that he would ever consider that combination a blessing.

That’s when he hears it—a slightly elevated heartbeat followed by a series of muffled sobs. He got so caught up in the fact that he finally found what he was looking for amidst the chaos that he forgot to fan out his hearing.

Despite what he originally believed, he isn’t alone.

The air smells of the salty essence of human tears. Matt stops dead in his tracks, not sure whether to continue his journey or to turn around and return to the uncomfortable plastic chair in front of the radiology department.

“This nervous breakdown space is occupied,” your soft voice bounces off the high walls. It’s thick with exhaustion. Pain. Loss. He almost recoils at the all-too-familiar feeling it elicits in him.

Matt keeps his cane hugged tight to his chest, his knuckles whitening with how hard he is gripping the base. “Oh, I...I’m sorry,” he says, careful to keep his voice light. “I didn’t catch you there.”

You’re essentially a stranger to him. A troubled one, at that. You must have your share of problems or you wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t be crying your eyes out. He doesn’t want to intrude, but he also can’t turn around. Not now, not anymore. You’ve already noticed him.

You sniffle, your hands wiping against the soft skin of your reddened cheeks. For a moment, your heartbeat picks up in speed before returning to its normal rhythm. “It’s alright,” you assure him.

Matt picks up on the faintest hint of disinfectant and the scent of antibacterial soap on you now, maybe a little blood, and definitely antiseptic laundry detergent—you’re wearing medical scrubs.

Your shampoo smells of vanilla and some herbal element he can’t quite identify just yet. Your perfume isn’t expensive, just enough to last through a long shift and filter the sweat that is seeping out of your pores. It’s not unpleasant. You smell like someone who’s been working hard and far past your limits, too.

“Do you need something?” you ask him. 

He pauses for a moment, rethinking his answer. His lips purse. He’s not sure how to answer that without completely giving himself away.

Your eyebrows raise slightly.

“Oh, just…some peace and quiet,” Matt says, finally finding his voice again. It sounds a bit more nervous than he would like to admit.

The chuckle you exhale is one of surprise and possibly even a bit of genuine amusement. “Yeah,” you sniffle, “I know that feeling.”

“Well, I’ll, uh, leave you to it. Sorry again.”

“No. Don’t.”

Matt stops in his tracks when the words pass your lips. 

You pat the space beside you. Your perfume becomes a little clearer. It’s so natural, so… you. He could get high off of it. Or maybe it’s just the sleep deprivation catching up to him. 

“This is the only quiet corner in this hospital,” you tell him. “Trust me. Underfunding has its perks for introverts. Rest in peace to about thirty internal medicine beds, but lucky me.”

Your chuckle echoes bitterly off the walls. You use humor to cope, apparently, but you’ve run out of strength to pretend.

His cane begins to gently pave the way as he makes his way forward. “Do you mind?” Matt nods toward the bed you’re sitting on. 

You pat the mattress again with a shake of your head. “Not at all.”

Gentle seems to be the one word that is consistent with everything you do. He can’t get this picture he has painted of you based on the sound of your voice out of his head. Maybe you’re an angel and he has officially gone insane, or maybe there are just a lot more good people left in this world than he originally thought. 

Matt folds his cane and skillfully sits down on the edge of the mattress. You smell even better up close. Your heartbeat reminds him of a beautiful symphony, no longer as erratic as when he first picked up on your presence. 

“I’m Matthew, by the way,” he says.

He can hear a sudden uptick in your heartbeat. He may have just imagined it. You suck in a sharp breath, and he’s sure he didn’t imagine that, but then you lift your hand to take his.

“Olivia,” you say. 

Matt listens closely. You have no reason to lie about your name. Your heartbeat may be faster, but it isn’t a lie. You just seem a lot more nervous and unsure than before. It doesn’t quite make sense why you would be unsure about your own name.

“Nice to meet you, Olivia.” His lips curl into a soft smile.

You smile back, he can hear it, but it lacks an essence of truth. You’re trying hard to seem like you’re okay. It’s not your fault that his senses are sensitive to all changes in the human body, even in that of a stranger he just met.

You’ve been crying, so of course, you wouldn’t be alright. The question is, why? 

“I take it you’re not part of the staff,” you say into the silence.  

“No.” Matt chuckles. “I, uh, have a friend with a dislocated shoulder,” he says.

“Ah! Let me guess, his doctor in the ER reduced the dislocation but insisted on doing an X-ray just in case, so now you have to wait because radiology has a hold-up longer than the Nile?”

A laugh rumbles through his chest. “Yeah, that… that’s pretty accurate.”

“It’s always like this,” you say. “A dislocated shoulder doesn’t have priority. We have bigger fish to fry.”

“You work here?” he dares to ask. 

You pull at the bottom of your scrub top. “Guilty as charged. Trauma surgery. I’ve been an attending here for a little over two years now.”

“Oh, wow! That’s…that’s incredible.”

Matt has encountered his fair share of doctors in the past, but no one has ever been quite like you. You’re unique. Mysterious. An enigma. You have piqued his curiosity, to say the least, and your profession only adds to the pile of interesting things he can ponder about.

You smile at him again, but it’s still not a genuine one. “Thanks,” you drag the last syllable out, the air deflating your lungs.

He swallows. “Or it isn’t. I didn’t mean to–”

“No, that’s not… some days just aren’t that rewarding,” you say. “That’s all.”

“And today has been one of those days?” Matt asks.

“Yeah, something like that.”

Your eyes roam over him once again.

He reaches for his hair, running his hand through it. He ruffles the brown strands until they’re covering his left temple. Matt’s not sure if you saw; there is a high chance that you did, but he can't anticipate your behavior. Not yet. 

You let out a longer breath. “Not a fan of hospitals, I take it?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “It gets… loud,” he says. 

“Sensitivity to sound.” You nod. “Noted.”

He hears the fabric of your scrubs brushing against your skin and the cotton sheets on the bed. You cross your legs, opening yourself up to him just slightly, and he wonders if you really are comfortable around him or if you’re just being kind. 

“Probably to smell as well? Feeling? Taste?” There is a soft smile laced in your voice. This time, it’s real. 

Matt chuckles. You hit the nail right on the head. You’re simply not aware of how sensitive he is to these things. “Pretty sensitive, yeah,” he says. 

That about sums it up. You nod, but you don’t push him any further. 

“Well,” you say, “The ER is pretty disgusting. And loud. And to be forced to wait in front of radiology is probably a scenario they offer as a torture device in one of the seven circles of hell.”

He can’t help himself, “It’s nine, actually.”

“Sorry?”

“Nine circles,” Matt clarifies, his lips twitching in a faint grin. “Dante’s Inferno. A good Catholic boy’s guilty pleasure.”

You let out a genuine laugh this time, and it warms his senses. It’s a rare sound in a place filled with so much pain. He can almost hear the weight from your shoulders hit the floor. The tension in the air seems to ease, if only for a moment. You allow to let yourself go. 

Your grin turns into a smirk. “Catholic, huh?” you retort. 

“Since the day I was born,” he says. “Are you religious?”

That seems to steal your breath away. You have no words. For a full minute, silence settles in between the two of you. It’s almost uncomfortable, and Matt fears he must have crossed a line. He just doesn’t know how to apologize for something he is truly curious about. 

The topic of God and religion seems to hit a nerve when it’s not used in a humorous context. There are many reasons why that could be. He spends every day battling his own religious trauma and the demons that he feels he’s harboring deep inside, but he still holds on tight to his faith. If he doesn’t have an excuse—if he doesn’t have anything to hold onto other than what broken self-respect he has left—where would he be?

You finally clear your throat after what feels like an eternity. “No,” it’s a simple answer. “I don’t believe that there is a God.”

Your mouth stays open. You want to say something else, but your lips close within seconds after the thought has passed by you, and you swallow it. He wonders what he could have learned about you if you had allowed yourself to say what you were truly thinking when the words first left your mouth. You’re holding back, and it is audible. It might even be visible. Your cheeks are running hot. 

Matt nods. He doesn’t question you. Your beliefs are yours. Most of the time, he doesn’t even believe that there is a God himself. 

“It’s hard to keep the faith in this world, especially when you work so hard every day trying to save people’s lives. When you are forced to see what the system does to those who can’t defend themselves over and over again, but you can’t do anything about it. Or when you see what people do to each other. I mean, the cruelty of human beings is unmatched, and it makes you wonder if God is just a sadist, or if maybe he isn’t even real because a gracious God wouldn’t let innocent children die,” you cut yourself off in an instant, and he tilts his head toward you in surprise. 

Your breath shudders. “I… I’ve seen too much bad to believe that there is an all-merciful God,” you say. “So I simply don’t.”

You try to meet his eyes, but all you see is your reflection in the red of his rounded glasses. Your heart breaks a little, he can hear it. Your shoulders slump. You’re defeated.

He isn’t sure how to react to that. How to help. How to be a decent human being. Matt just doesn’t have the answers you need, and it makes him question his own faith for a minute. Not that he has ever not questioned it; his relationship with God is as complicated as it gets.

You catch yourself after a moment of staring into the void of his glasses. “But… that’s my opinion. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“I’m not offended,” Matt says.

You were smiling, and now you’re not anymore. He doesn’t like that. He liked it more when you were more open with him. Your legs have moved back to your chest, your arms clinging to them. You’ve retreated. 

“Sorry,” you whisper. The edge in your voice breaks his heart. 

He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. I get it. Injustice…it’s a parasite. I’ve encountered my fair share of good people who deserved better than what they got. You try and you fail over and over again because the world isn't fair. I’d be the last person to judge you for not sharing my beliefs.” He breaks off in a chuckle. “I'm not that kind of guy.”

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline. “What is that you do again?” You didn’t ask that question before.

“I’m a lawyer,” he states. “Defense attorney.”

“Wow,” you let out a soft puff of air, “And you chose to go to Metro General instead of jumping on the big money train to the Upper East Side?” 

Although your tone is joking, Matt can tell that there is an ounce of truth in your words.  

He hides his laugh behind a cough. He’s not sure if he’s surprised or if he actually finds that assumption hilarious. Maybe a bit of both.

“Oh, no.” He shakes his head. “I have never even been in the same station as the big money train.”

“Oh?”

“No. We, my partner and I, do pro-bono work. We don't get paid for our services. Well, other than baked goods and overdue bills in the mail, of course.”

You chuckle. “That’s a relief. Not so much for your bank account, but ethically.”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry for assuming. That was prejudiced of me,” you say. “I’m not trying to judge you. I’m sorry. Rich or not, it’s none of my business.”

Matt shrugs. “It's okay. Lawyers and doctors are the two professions so many think make millions of Dollars a year, and while that may be the case for a few, a lot of us just… don’t,” he says.

“Amen! If I had a drink, I’d toast to that.”

“Yeah, well, an intoxicated doctor would not fare well in the legal sense.”

“You think that would end my career?”

“I can’t even give you good legal advice other than, don’t.”

Your giggle turns into a laugh. “Thank you for the advice, counselor.”

He joins in. “Anytime.” 

For a moment, only the two of you exist. Matt adjusts his position, but he doesn’t take his bruised ribs into account. His wince is barely audible, yet you notice it in an instant. And when his hair slips, you can see the gash on his forehead. The one he tried to stitch up himself but probably did an awful job at concealing. 

Your eyes narrow in concern. “What happened to you?” your voice barely breeches the sound barrier. 

“Oh, nothing,” he tries to shrug it off. “Just an accident.”

“An accident?”

“I am blind, you know. I tripped, hit my head. It happens.”

“Hm.” Much to his surprise, you don’t press him further. Instead, you gently reach out to brush the sweaty strand of hair from his face that he used to cover up the aftermath of his latest endeavor. 

Now that he thinks about it, his ribs really do hurt. He’s sure nothing is broken, but they are severely bruised. Even he can feel the blood pooling under the skin. 

You bite your lip, not wanting to pry. The urge is obvious to him, but only to him. You’re good at your job. You focus on the task at hand. That is probably why you became a doctor in the first place; to help people, not to pry. 

But Matt Murdock doesn’t need help. 

“It’s fine,” he assures you. 

You nod. “I believe you.”

You don’t. You’re lying. He appreciates the effort though. You try your best at making him feel comfortable and welcome. Asking questions would only drive him away; you wouldn’t be able to satiate your pathological need to help. It’s who you are.

“Whoever patched this up did a terrible job,” you say, “and I don’t want to know who did it because if you tell me it was you, I will lose my mind, so, I choose to believe you for the sake of my own sanity.”

His lips part in a soft laugh. “Yeah, you don't wanna know,” he says.

“Can I fix it?"

He opens his mouth to decline, “You don’t have to, I–”

“Please.” 

There is no arguing with you, it seems.

Your footsteps echo in the empty hallway. One of the drawers in the cart across from the bed slides open at your touch. Matt can hear the distinct crinkle of packaging and the clanking of metal. When you return to his side, your steps are a little heavier. 

“I’m going to clean the wound and then apply a butterfly bandage to help the skin grow back together,” you explain. “The cut isn't that deep, but you must’ve hit your head pretty hard when you fell. I can’t force you to get a head CT, so… If you experience any nausea or neurological deficits in the next few days, you should come back to run some tests. But—and that is not my expert medical opinion because I don’t have the tests to back it up—I think it should be fine to heal on its own.”

“Any other advice, Doc?” he jokes. 

“Well, I can’t give the same good news about your bruised ribs.” You only have to place your hand on his side and his lips come to press tightly together. “I’m guessing third and fourth,” you say. “If one of them is fractured, it makes you run at risk for internal bleeding, but to see the extent of your injuries, we’d have to get an MRI. That is not my call to make. I can’t force you to get your battle scars checked out, I can just advise you to think about it. Really think about it.”

Matt sighs. His laughter has long died. “I know.”

He doesn’t want to repeat himself. He’s fine. He has to pretend that he’s fine because he doesn’t have time for doctors or questions. Neither you nor the law can protect him from the damage that the truth would do. 

You’re disappointed, but you swallow your pride. With delicate precision, you start cleaning the wound on his forehead, the cotton swab dabbing at the dried blood. He winces at the sting of antiseptic, a subtle twitch in response to the pain.

“Sorry,” you murmur.

Matt manages a half-smile. “It’s alright. I’ve had worse.”

That doesn’t make you feel better, but you accept it. You’ve learned to respect your patients’ wishes, even if that means swallowing a lie. 

As you work, your fingers graze over his skin with a careful tenderness. It’s a stark contrast to the harshness of the world he navigates outside—a double-edged sword. If he doesn’t go out there, more people die or get hurt. He would sustain the same injuries over and over again and almost die rather than pretend that evil isn’t lurking right outside his window every night. And there is a bigger storm brewing in the distance, one he isn’t fully prepared for. 

Yet.

You finish cleaning the wound and proceed to carefully apply a fresh bandage. Matt can feel the cool adhesive against his skin. Your touch is soothing, almost comforting, and he allows himself to relax.

“There,” you announce softly. “All patched up.”

Matt lifts his hand to touch the bandage, a habit he developed over the years to reassure himself that someone cared enough to tend to his wounds. “Thank you,” he answers. 

“No biggie.” You shrug with a tiny smile, and that makes him smile, too. It shows him that while you are displeased with his lack of respect for himself and his health, you aren’t mad at him. You just care.

The shrill beeping of your pager tears a headache through his skull.

You curse under your breath. “I’m so sorry,” you say as you skim over the text that has been sent to you. “The, uh—the ER needs me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he quickly responds. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Go. Save a life!”

You’re reluctant at first, but then your lips curl into a broader, more genuine smile, and in the heat of the moment, you grab his hand. “It was nice meeting you, Matthew,” you say. “Take care of yourself.” 

Your footsteps retreat and your heartbeat gets fainter as you walk down the hallway. He’s speechless. He doesn’t even remember how to say goodbye. 

“Oh, and do me a favor?” You stop momentarily just to ask him, “Get those ribs checked out?”

His mouth opens and closes like that of a fish on dry land. “Sure,” he says. 

“Thank you,” these are your last words to him before you take off running. 

Both of you know though that once he is out of Metro General and on his way home, he won’t come back. Not for himself, at least. And it is something you have to accept as much as he has to accept the fact that you are long gone, off to save a life in the very four walls that seemed so scary to him all alone only fifteen minutes ago.

Tag List: @shiorimakibawrites @allllium @siampie @auroraslibrary @roseallisonparker @abucketofweird @thatonegamefish @capylore @kniselle @sumo-b98 @peachstarliight @littlehappyperson @danzer8705

[bubblesnd]

Summary:the 141 finds a hybrid kid on a mission

Fantasy!au

CW:pure fluff,hurt with comfort,mentions of violence,brief mentions of death, parent death,hybrid!reader,no description of reader other than wolf like features, very dad price coded

Notes:this is my first time writing a full fic so it's not the best 😅

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚☙۞ ☯˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

The 141 make their way through the buildings. "Be on the look out for the hostages" price orders. You hear them way before they reach you. Soap walks In a building seeing two adult hybrids dead. "Uh cap ye need to see this" he yells.

⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎

You see him and immediately bare your teeth growling loudly at them. A man walks in looking at you and slowly lowers his gun. "Hey little one it's alright" he tries to coax you. Yours ears flatten against your head as you growl louder. "Their just a kid what do we do?" A man with a weird accent asks.

"Hey it's okay we're here to help I promise" the British man says. Price bends down to your level. "They can't be more than 6 or 7 cap" the Scotsman says. You slowly stop growling but yours ears stay down. "There ya go" he says. "What happened?" He asks. You stay silent rooted in your spot by fear of these men.

Your ears immediately perk up upon hearing footsteps. And as two more men enter you growl again. "Hey it's okay they're with me, they're good guys" the man says again. "My name is price that's soap, that one is Gaz and the man in the mask is ghost" he smiles warmly. You stop growling "alright let's get out of here it's not safe" price says.

As he holds out his hand, you take it. Slowly following behind him. They take you to a helicopter. "We're gonna go somewhere so you can eat and get cleaned up" the man they call soap says. Yours ears slowly lift as you get more comfortable with these men. When you get to the base you stick close to price and growl at anyone who gets to close.

"What are we going to do with the kid" ghost asks. "They'll stay here for now we'll get the formal situation figured out later" price says. Price takes you to the medic promising you they won't hurt you. He takes you to get something to eat and then to his room on base. "You can stay here for now" price says.

⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎

He leaves and shuts the door walking back to the rest of the team. "How are they?" Gaz asks. "Hanging in there, very jumpy so be cautious around them" Price says. "We should research about their hybrid I heard some have special abilities" Soap pipes up. "They seem to like ya price" Ghost says.

⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎

You cautiously leave your room hoping to find the man who helped you. You sniff the air and follow your nose. When you find price you cling to him. "Hey little one" price says. A strange woman enters the room. You watch her cautiously. "What is this price? Seriously" the woman says. "We found em they needed help so I help em" price grunts.

She approaches you and price. "I wouldn't do that they're pretty skittish" he says. You let out a low growl. "Are they a danger price?" The woman asks. "No the kid needed help they ain't dangerous" price replys.

⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎

Price decides to talk to someone specializing in hybrids. In his office a man comes in. "Hello captain what can I help you with?" He asks. "I found a hybrid kid on a mission but they are either skittish or aggressive never to me but everyone else" price states. "Well hybrids can be tricky they act more animalistic especially the young ones" he says.

"Now hybrids can be very possessive especially after trauma involving loved ones or their 'pack' so to speak" he continues. "So it's not abnormal for them to be possessive especially if they deem someone their pack, as for getting them be more calm they just need time" he says and leaves.

⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎⚜︎

As the days go by you begin trusting the 141 and not just price. Slowly but surely do you work your way into their hearts. You start guarding the entire 141 growling at people who get loud with them. (Even superiors). They tell everyone they are trying to find your family but they won't admit they've grown find of you.

They find themselves making breakfast for you. You don't talk much mostly just grunt or growl. "Think er' ever gonna talk" soap says. "Don't know maybe" price replys. You sit quietly observing the base. When you finally talk it's to price. "Can I have water sir" you say barely audible prepared to defend yourself.

Price finds himself shocked that you actually spoke. But the scene in front of him breaks his heart. You with a look a fear in your eyes. "course' sweetheart you don't gotta ask or call me sir price or John works just fine" he smiles warmly at you. Your tail slowly wags.

Price finds himself acting more fatherly. Teaching you basic skills, buying you things, even painting and decorating a room for you, being overprotective. Days turn to weeks and weeks turn to months. And everything slowly falls into place for you no longer scared or skittish feeling the need to lash out or bite but feeling safe, happy, content in your new life.

[erinwantstowrite]

Erin I have a question ⁉️

How did you start writing LoF? Like,.not writing it in general, I mean like how did you get—or learned—or studied—all the information regarding the Batfam and their backgrounds, and also about Peter and the Avengers, etc.

Currently, I'm honestly planning on writing a small fiction about Peter ending up in Gotham (You must know your words hold a very dangerous power to inspire) but unfortunately, I don't have the right information to actually START writing it TT_TT. Do you have any tips on how I can start?

(P.S Apologies if this sounds a little confusing, I am not entirely the best at explaining 😞🤞)

There's one person to blame for getting me into DC, and it's @alighterwood

I've always been a fan of Spider-Man. He was my first hero, I wanted to be him soooo bad. I had gotten around to sort of writing my own fic for it with my own version of Peter around last year? (Very much inspired by ITSV, LoF Peter came about because he's his own universe and is based on Spider-Man lore from multiple media versions). I had never thought about writing a Spider-Man fic until ATSV, but at the time I was pretty much dead set on rewriting VLD. I got inspired after rewatching ITSV and then watching ATSV.

But it wasn't until alighterwood got me reading their favorite Batfam fics (specifically Tim) that I started to enjoy Batfam or DC in general.

(My favorite Batfam fic is "The Lone Ranger Never Had to Deal with Bruce Wayne" )

From there I started branching out into learning more about Batfam, what is and isn't fanon, and forming my own opinions. It was a natural progression into "I want my favorite characters to meet each other" and alighterwood's evil genius plan ended up working.

I've read a few comics (mostly the Red Robin series, because Tim was my intro to Batfam so I figured I'd start there) but most of my information?

Wikis, reddits, forums from years (a few of them from decades) ago, my father (who was a Batman fan as a kid) and his friends (my uncles, who were all DC and Marvel nerds), my own friends- basically anything I can get my hands on. If I had a question, it was (probably) answered somewhere, or there was someone else with the same question that made me feel better for not getting it. The internet has a BOATLOAD of information about both Marvel and DC.

It's a LOT of research and note taking, to be honest. I have a physical notebook where I take notes on lore so I don't forget it. I comb through fanon AND canon and I decide from there what I want and what I don't want/what doesn't work and what does work for what I'm writing.

But here's something to keep in mind: at the end of the day, you're not writing FOR anyone else. You're not out to please people who are 100% canon, all the time, nor are you trying to accommodate people who only read fanon material. You're writing for YOU. This part is fun for me, but could be very tedious for other people. I'm a little weird like that (I started writing essays for fun since I learned about them in school).

I like doing research. Like a lot of writers, I go down multiple rabbit holes a day. I start by googling a simple question that should take five minutes and then I see something and go "oh! What's this!?" and pick it up, and the cycle continues when I see something else and eventually remember that I was writing.

I enjoy the research and figuring out the balance. Because DC and Marvel do the same shit with their own works! Shit gets retconned, or they bring characters back from the dead, blah blah blah. The fun part for me IS going insane trying to figure out the Flash Family and their STUPID family tree, or learning about characters that were basically forgotten by everyone- even the writers. The best part is that since it's my fic I'm writing, I can go: "What's the most entertaining way I can use this?" And no one can stop me.

But if YOU don't enjoy that part, and you try to do it, you might lose your spark!! Your inspiration!! You might not have fun, and that's what writing is all about!! My thing is, is that basically every fan interpretation, whether they try to stick to the original source as closely as they can or not, IS FANON. And fanon is fun!!

Basically it all stems down to: it's your sandbox and you can play in there however you want to. And sometimes, people see what you're doing and they're like "Can I play too?" and you're like "Yes that'd be awesome!!"

If you find that you do enjoy the research, I think it's well worth it. It's very satisfying to put together all that work and then get a comment from someone where they say "OMG!! I know that reference!" or "I love this interpretation of this very obscure thing!!"

My advice for writing a Peter in Gotham fic is to know where YOU are starting at, before you start writing your fic. If you're a Spider-Man fan and you don't know much about the Batfam, try reading a comic about them, or find some favorite fics and base your information on that. It works vice-versa, if you know more about Batfam and not a lot about Peter.

Imagine there are two people sitting in front of you. One is a Marvel fan, the other is a DC fan, and they know NOTHING about the other comics. But they both want to hear your story where you have combined them. It's important that you don't lean too much into either side: you keep both of their interest by appreciating the details from both DC and Marvel.

The Marvel fan will be happy to see Peter reacting to a new world and situations, even if they don't know everything you're referencing. But the DC fan will be excited because you care about the place that Peter is interacting with enough to make a joke that maybe only they would get.

So: have fun, explore everywhere you want to, and get a little crazy. Don't worry too much about not knowing everything there is to know. I don't know everything about DC or Marvel either!

[seospicybin]

HYUNJIN

MY WORKS ARE NSFW & 18+ ONLY. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

These are purely works of fictions. There is now way it represent Stray Kids in any way.

* S for smut. F for fluff. A for Angst.

Sweet & Sour. (s) Sour fruits? No worries, Hyunjin knows how to make it sweeter.

White Heat. (s,f) Part I / Part II / Part III Dating Hyunjin is not easy and it isn’t easy for him too because he had to be away from you, that’s why he took some pictures of you to keep you close with him.

Petals. (f, mild smut) You always believe that kissing Hyunjin is like kissing flower petals, but can you tell the difference though?

Blush. (s,f) You once promised to grant a wish of Hyunjin, and to your surprise, his wish is to make a nude painting of you.

Venus. (s,a) When Hyunjin first sets his eyes on you, he knew that you would make a perfect muse for his paintings, but as time goes, you begin to question whether it’s love or a short-lived infatuation that he has for you?

Hunger. (s,a) Hyunjin is a popular kid at your campus but when you finally met the man, your heart created something inside you: a hunger for him.

Saturn. (s,f,a) Realized that Hyunjin’s true love will always be his art, you decided to move on with your life to only cross path with him once more.

Pluto. (s,a) Part I / Part II / Epilogue Knowing that your life will end soon, you choose to have your desired death by making a pact with the devil with a red hair, Hyunjin.

Vesper. (s,f) Part I / Part II You’ve been praying every night for someone like Hyunjin to come and when he finally did, you doubt that he would approve your job as a stripper. 

One Dance. One More Dance. (s) If it wasn’t because of your support, Hyunjin would have been given up to be a painter. One day, he finally get to sold one of his paintings and he decides to celebrate it by getting himself a lap dance.

Collateral. (s) I.N x reader x Hyunjin. Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV Working at a magazine, you met Hyunjin who instantly becomes the muse of your late-night writings filled of your wild imagineries of him but a different man started to fulfill that fantasies for you. And he was the one you worked for, the editor in chief, Yang Jeongin.

Liability. (s,f) A spin-off of Collateral series.

Three of A Kind. (s) Bangchan x reader x Hyunjin. Part I / Part II / Part III Late night drinking and a card game, plus two pretty boys? what’s the worst that could happen?

Aces High. (s) Bangchan x reader x Hyunjin. On your birthday, you put your two boyfriends to a test to find out which one of them knows you better and as the celebration continues, they take their turn to put you on a test.

On Tour. (s,f,a) Hyunjin x reader x Felix. I. SOUNDCHECK / II. OPENING ACT / III. UNPLUGGED / IV. HIDDEN TRACK / FINAL. ENCORE. Your best friend, Felix, is in a rock band and he takes you to join him on tour as the band’s photographer. On the road, you learn how to deal with his bandmate, Hyunjin, who’s not very welcoming of you. 

Dark Red. (s,f, horror, thriller) Part II Seospicy's halloween special.

Rewind. (s,a) Seungmin x reader x Hyunjin. Part I / Part II As a part of a research team that works on a memory-erasing machine, you work alongside the professor whom you greatly admire and a computer geek who relentlessly flirts with you. But the one that you want is the one that you can’t have.

The Babysitter. (s,f) Felix x reader x Hyunjin.

Part I / Part II

Working as the family's babysitter, you learn a lot from Hyunjin and Felix's happy marriage, including their sex life.

0325. (s) skz x reader. SIDE A A series of short fics inspired by Stray Kids songs.

[silent-sanctum]

AHH i love your work!! ignore this if you don’t wanna write this but could i request a part 4 jotaro with a surgeon reader? like how they work around eachothers work schedule?

thqnk you!! have a good day/night!! <3

AHH thank you anon! 🥹💖 Lucky for you your request wasn't ignored because I have a cute lil short fic for you! Have a good day to you as well and hope you enjoy! ♡

Professional Love - Jotaro x Reader

word count: 1.8k

He always sort of knew that even if someone was able to succeed greatly in life, earn loads, and establish a famous reputation, there were always downsides to the many rewards hard work offered.

Such as not having enough time to spend with loved ones.

Ironically enough, as someone who likes the solitude of their alone times, Jotaro began to miss being around you. Whether it was because of him hitting adulthood that nostalgia decided to kick in, or some instinctual necessity ingrained deep in him, he’d do anything within plausibility just to talk to you like the old days.

Both you and he were married to each other and were successful doctors in their own fields- You as a literal licensed physician and skilled neurosurgeon, and Jotaro a well-known marine biologist and professor of an Ivy League university with a doctorate.

It was established early on from high school that the two of you had no problems being their own persons. Both of you were independent and had the tendency to keep themselves occupied with work, but never drowning in them too much that it stifled any romantic chemistry between you.

Well… at least that’s the case when they were still teenagers.

Now that they were professionals, work was always mandatory and couldn’t be excused like how a high school student would to homework. Both careers demanded their focus.

On average, you were off either doing rounds or surgery during the day sometimes even at night, while he had the morning and afternoon booked doing field study or teaching college students. At times, there were also the meetings held in other cities or countries that you had to attend to.

By some miracle despite with their hectic schedules, you still held onto the love you had for your husband even if you weren’t around him most of the time. In the hours Jotaro was able to sync up with yours, both of you swore to cherish that short amount of time.

A carefree conversation unrelated to work. Shared time for drinks and snacks. Napping in each others arms.

Anything. He just wanted to see you, hear you, feel you just so he’d have that one moment of intimacy where he’s able to relax and be Jotaro Kujo and not that rigid and stoic Head of Research image he’d put on in public.

This shouldn’t be a big deal for him.

And yet-

As he unlocked the front door to their home, Jotaro sighed as he shrugged off his coat and left it to hang on the nearby rack. He flicked the light switch on and the interior lit up to reveal an empty living room, devoid of anyone living here for hours. No sounds of dishes and utensils, no TV airing a favored show, not even the faintest steps of somebody roaming about.

Jotaro ignored this newfound feeling he’d recognize as “loneliness” and went about the rest of the night.

You were out of country to meet with a group of surgeons in Germany, discussing matters that were too technical and specific to the medical field that he couldn’t understand. You told him that the meeting would take at least a week to finish. Jotaro was in the 4th day and he’d begun to feel… pathetic? Was that the right word?

Getting glimpses of you or engaging with you for a minute to get through the busy day was one thing. Being left alone without receiving at least a single update was another.

He did what always does after a day’s work- Take a shower, prepare dinner, grade papers or review documents, and go to bed. But in the middle of his evening routine, his mind couldn’t help but wander off how tonight would’ve played out if you were here.

Would you greet him late in the dark and chat about your day about someone’s lobotomy? Would you help out in the kitchen and add in another meal for the both of them? Would you lie in bed with him and just sleep to their hearts’ content, hoping an emergency call wouldn't disrupt your slumber at dawn?

Jotaro shook his head and took a sip of his tea. “What are you thinking? You’re acting as if this trip lasts a year.” He scoffed at no one as he took his now empty plate and set it down in the sink for him to clean. “Honestly, why are you like this nowadays?”

As an answer to that, a younger version of himself would’ve denied it with lies and brush it off like as if it’s an intrusive thought, because being anything remotely sentimental would ruin his whole image. 28-year-old Jotaro knew better that the answer was simple- he just missed you. Even if it was just meeting one another at home before leaving for work again.

He sighed for the nth time and walked into his office, where stacks of folders and papers waited for him to go-over and process.

Nothing extraordinary happened the following hours. Just one man with his glasses and pen buried in piles of documents as usual. To spare him the monotony of his evening plus the strain in his eyes from overworking, on his table were 2 picture frames situated just beneath the monitor where he could drift his gaze to from time to time.

One was of him as a child with his mother carrying him with a big loving smile. The other was of the both of you taken during your wedding day- you in your pure white dress, your veil pulled back to show your blooming smile, and him in a crisp black tuxedo with a chrysanthemum brooch pinned to his left chest, a smile of his own clear on his face.

By the time Jotaro finished the last of the load, the only thing left for him to do was to sleep and let the next day arrive.

So he did just that- switched off the lights in his study, went to his room, and got into bed. A king-sized bed that’s supposed to be shared with you. His side of the bed was on the left where the bedside table was with the small lamp on top. Convenient for when he still needed to read a few more books before sleeping.

But in the darkness, he turned over to the empty side beside him. Your side.

Sure you sometimes came home late into the early morning and he had to sleep all by himself, but Jotaro liked waking up to find you next to him, snuggling close to him, tired from all those hours of surgery.

It’s the 4th night without you and he continued to sleep regardless.

Come next morning and the first thing he was able to perceive was the smell of bacon, eggs, and coffee in the air and the faint sizzling that came with it. Jotaro didn’t know how he wasn’t able to notice but maybe through his sleep-addled mind, he woke up as he would and trudged his way down the stairs to make breakfast.

Only by the time he stepped one foot down, he was met with a dining table already set with the morning meal and 2 cups of steaming coffee.

“What… is this?”

“Oh yeobo! You’re up!”

Jotaro paused upon hearing that voice coming in from the kitchen. Wait that couldn’t be right. You said the meeting lasted a week and it’s only the 5th day. How was this- He scoffed again, at himself for letting himself think too much of you that he started to hear hallucinations of your voice as early as 7 AM.

He ran his hand through his curly bed hair. “This can’t be happening. I can’t believe this is happening to me of all people.”

“Can’t believe what is happening of all people?”

A pair of arms wrapped themselves around Jotaro’s waist and he stilled. Is it really? He looked over his shoulder and in the warmly lit daylight, you were there behind him, smiling up at him with so much love in the world. Jotaro couldn’t believe it. “Good morning, love~”

“I thought you were supposed to be out for a week?”

“Oh about that,” you said. “The meeting didn’t take too long to finish as they had hoped. All we needed were 3 days and got everything settled.”

You pulled away and lead him to his spot by the head of the table with you sitting adjacent to him. “They suggested I take a look around the place for the meantime, you know enjoy the scenery and whatnot. But then I thought to myself,” you looked away momentarily. “I have a couple days free. Everyone in the hospitals I work at, know I’m booked during those weeks. So, unless it's really urgent, I'll just be here.”

“And I… missed being around my husband these couple days,” you said. “And I know you might be thinking I’m making a big deal of this whole “missing each other” schpill, but at the same time, it’s visceral and nagging to the point it’s bothering me even during work.”

“You’re not making anything a big deal when the feeling is mutual,” Jotaro replied without looking at you, feigning nonchalance. Though his cheeks heated and eyes squinting just a bit at the casual confession. That’s to say he’s still not used to being this open to expression. “It’s driving me nuts too.”

You chuckled. “I’m glad I’m not the only going crazy, but Jotaro-ssi?” He paused just as he was about to bite down onto a piece of bacon and you waved at him to you. “I have something to tell you.”

With no hesitation, Jotaro leaned over to you until he was inches away from your face. And in that moment, you cupped his cheek and pressed a soft kiss on his lips.

His heart skipped a beat or two and the warmth present in his cheeks flared up once more. You were always the teasing type that he got accustomed to.

You withdrew shortly after with a mischievous smirk on your face. “I missed doing these surprise kisses.”

He huffed. “Never failed to catch me off guard.”

“And since I’m free for the next 3 days, how about we do some stuff together?” You said. “Unless you still have work to accomplish-”

“My students are on their field trip this week with another professor and I’ve already made the necessary changes to the research team’s proposals so they can work on it.” Jotaro smiled. “Safe to say I’m free this week as well.”

Knowing that caused you to bloom on the spot- eyes beaming with joy and a blossoming grin showing itself for him to adore. “I can’t wait. Movie night?”

“Sure.”

“Genre? Snacks? Say the word so I can prepare. I want to make our first mini vacation perfect and-” He cut you off with a chaste kiss on your temple.

“Anything will do jagi.”

[the83rdgenius]

| A Haunting Face |

Ruan Mei x Gn!Reader | Minors do not interact

Warnings: Gender neutral reader, Very Selfship coded, First Meet, No gender descriptions for reader, No pronouns for reader, Fluff, 1.7k words.

A/n: I wanted to write a fic for how me and Ruan Mei meet in our selfship, so I wrote it 👍🏻 I plan on writing more about this selfship because this was the most fun I had writing something in such a long time. I may make this a small series of one shots related to each other so keep that in mind too.

Summary: When Asta sends you on what was supposed to be a quick errand you end up lost in the seclusion zone, and come face to face with a certain someone.

It’s unusual to think about the first time you met Ruan Mei now. A smirk creeps on your lips as you turn the page of an all too familiar book. Although you enjoy the present there is no harm in reminiscing. You let out a soft sigh as the pleasant memories flood through your mind.

One Year Ago

“This is a mess.” You threw your head back and groaned. “How am I supposed to find the paperwork with all this-“ you grabbed a forgotten file envelope and tossed it to the side “-junk in the way?”

The girl behind you, Asta, rubbed the back of her head and chuckled nervously. “Sorry. I’ll have someone clean it up after you find it.”

You turned your head to look at her. “If I find it.” You returned your gaze to the task at hand with a groan. “Why do you need the records anyway?”

Asta helped you look through a nearby file cabinet that had collected dust. “Beats me. All I know is that Madame Herta wants it brought to her by the end of the day.”

You searched through file after file while thinking back on what Asta had told you before about those records.

“I don’t know much of the details. All I know is that Madame Herta was adamant that she needed it by today.”

“What does she need the records for if you don’t mind me asking?”

“That I cannot disclose. I’m sorry.”

Weird, you thought.

Shuffling through another file cabinet you came across a rather aged and odd looking folder, and just as you were about to open it Asta snatched it from your hand.

“You found it!” She exclaimed, hugging it close to her chest with a satisfied hum. “Thank god, I was so sure I’d have been toast if we didn’t find it.”

You grinned and gave Asta a look.

She waved and chuckled nervously. “I mean.. Thank you for finding it.”

You stood up from your kneeling position to brush off the dust and dirt that had collected on your pants. “So, is that all then?”

Asta stood up and smiled awkwardly. “Well..”

You sighed, putting a hand on your hip. “Alright, spit it out.”

“Okay, so the truth is I need you to grab one more thing for me.” She admitted.

You raised a brow playfully as you waited for her to continue.

“I need you to talk to a researcher named Emily down in the control center on the storage zone, from there she will give you the rest of the instructions. If you have any problems just say that Asta sent you, but you shouldn’t run into any difficulties. I’ve already debriefed her that this might’ve been a possibility.”

You sighed dramatically and flashed Asta a smile. “If I must.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you! You’re a lifesaver!” Asta exclaimed.

After Asta gave you a hug as thanks the two of you went your separate ways and you headed towards your destination. It had been a while since you had to make your way down there and admittedly you ended up getting a little lost in the process, but you eventually found your way there. Or at least you thought you had.

“Where the hell..” You mumbled to yourself.

Looking around you were sent down a bunch of twists and turns after taking the elevator to what was supposed to be the storage zone, but you didn’t recognize any of your surroundings. You eventually stopped at a wall to look at the map of the space station again. Surely, there must’ve been some explanation for all of this.

Just as you had given up and decided to try finding your way back to the elevator, you spotted a lit up door nearby that looked promising. As it opened up you entered a room that you had most certainly never been in before. Taking a quick look around you saw no one and barely anything out of the ordinary. Until you heard meows by your feet.

Looking down you saw what looked to be a creature resembling a cat. You couldn’t help but smile as you looked at it, it was quite precious after all.

“Well, hello sweetheart.” You cooed, kneeling down to pet it gently.

The cat purred and trusted you almost instantly. A part of you wished you could take it home with you, but something told you that wouldn’t be right. You gave it an apologetic smile before moving forward.

“I’m sorry, bubbie.” You said as you gave the creature a few goodbye pats.

Continuing on with your investigation you soon noticed that there were quite a few of those cats lying around the room. Although what really caught your attention was a lone figure off in the corner of the room, doing something you couldn’t get a glimpse of. Finally, you thought. You had been relieved to see someone else in this vacant zone aside from you.

Walking at a quick pace you called out to the person, explaining your situation as you eventually came face to face with the stranger. It was a woman whose face you swore you’d seen before, but that would be ridiculous and impossible. The woman ended up paying you hardly any attention as if she was hoping you’d simply leave her alone, but that was not what happened.

“I’m so sorry, I’m trying to find the storage zone and..” You had begun to explain to the stranger your situation and where you were supposed to be, but still she seemed to pay you no mind.

The woman finally stopped what she was doing to look at you. “You shouldn’t be down here.” She sounded disappointed.

“I know and I sincerely apologize for that, but if you could just help me get out of here then I would- O-Okay, you’re touching my face.. Why are you touching my face?” You stammered.

“Just a simple work habit of mine. It helps me understand people better.” She explained.

She tilted your face side to side and then moved her fingers so that they rested underneath your chin. Looking deep into your eyes she analyzed you, taking every part of you with her as she became suddenly fascinated by you. Finally she removed her hand from your face and tilted her head as if to study you.

“Your name is..” As she spoke your name you felt a familiar feeling tug at your heart. “..Correct?”

You nodded, still not quite listening to what she was saying. Where had you seen her before? Have you ever seen her before? You were sure if you knew her name it would all click into place.

She smiled at you upon your approval of your name.

“What’s your name? Miss..?” You nearly blurted it out. On one hand you felt a little guilty but on the other you were losing patience just waiting for her to say it.”

“You can just call me Ruan Mei.” She replied with a smile.

Ruan Mei, you thought with a smile.

“That’s a beautiful name.” You said, not realizing what you had said until hearing the words come straight out of your own mouth.

Ruan Mei smiled and chuckled to herself.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You said rubbing the back of your head. “I don’t know why I said that. I mean- !”

You leaned back against the counter with your hand and had somehow knocked over a tray filled with (thankfully) empty vials. In your effort to reach down for them you somehow lost your balance just in time for you to fall into Ruan Mei’s arms. Admittedly that wasn’t the first time that had happened. You remembered how Herta had to leave strict instructions for you to stay out anywhere with fragile objects to avoid the fiascos that so often occurred, but in front of Ruan Mei had to be the worst time of all for your clumsiness.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You panicked.

Ruan Mei helped you back into an upright position, seemingly unbothered by your clumsiness even with every one of those vials shattered.

“It’s alright.” She reassured you with a gentle expression.

“B-But I broke the- and I was such a fucking clutz!” You knelt down to clean up the mess. “Let me make this right.” But you were quickly and carefully yanked back up by Ruan Mei.

“Careful.” She said sternly. “Plus, there’s no need. It’s just broken glass after all, I can get new ones quite easily.” She replied reassuringly, watching as your expression of dread slowly vanished into some sort of relief. “Besides, those weren’t mine anyway, and whoever’s it was mustn't have cared much considering how long they’ve been sitting down here.”

You blinked at her and then chuckled nervously. “Oh, okay then.”

Although Ruan Mei could feel the embarrassment in your voice she smiled regardless. Being pleased with herself that you had trusted her word.

“You said you needed to find your way to the storage zone? If so, I can still take you up on your request and lead you there.” She suggested.

Her words didn’t soak in until a few moments passed but once they had you nodded with a big smile on your face, one that you tried dearly to not show so obviously.

“Yes! I would love that, thank you.” You replied gleefully.

“Alright, then allow me to clean up the broken glass and we can be on our way.”

The both of you smiled at each other. You knelt down to help her clean up the glass and before you knew it the mess was entirely gone. It seemed as if disaster had never struck at all. Eventually the both of you made your way to the storage zone, and as you walked there you couldn’t help but smile as Ruan Mei talked about various things that she shared with you. It was true that you had only just met her but you couldn't help but feel like you’d been in her presence before, but you would’ve remembered feeling that warmth. There was no way you could forget such a lovely feeling.

[brummiereader]

Hi everyone, this is my first time posting and my first time writing a fanfic. But here I am, inspired to write something after reading so many amazing Peaky Blinders fics on here. This is a bit of an out there story, think Peaky Blinders meets time travel, supernatural themes, the modern world, gypsy magic and very unusual circumstances to the start of a relationship. A quick thank you again to @cillmequick for proof reading my story and giving me the courage to post it.

A Ghost Of A Man (PART ONE)

Summary: Reader discovers a curious looking folder full of information on a Small Heath gang from the 1900's. After digging for more information she encounters someone or something in an abandoned building.

Warnings: Language, supernatural themes

Growing up close to Birmingham you had always felt drawn to the famous west midlands city. So drawn to it that you decided to enrol in the history course Birmingham University had to offer. You had a passion in particular for local history and books, you knew so much about the city, and one day you hoped to work in its biggest library. But it was not only history you had a passion for but also antiques. You would often visit small antique shops around the city, certain objects catching your eye, taking them home, then spending countless hours researching the object trying to find out the history behind it. You had quite the collection of items now, taking up the majority of space in your flat that you shared with your friend. Your friend Louise was also a student in history, you met Fresher's week at Uni, and after getting along so well you both decided to ditch student accommodation and rent out a flat together in and old house just outside Birmingham city center. You called it a flat because you didn't know what else to call it. It was more of a converted attic in an old house, the ceilings were low and the floorboards creaked no matter where you stepped but it was worth it, worth it for the vast view of old rooftops with their decaying chimneys, and the remnants of buildings from Birmingham's industrial past that seemed to go on as far as the eye could see. You would often find yourself sitting in the large armchair that occupied the spot next to the small round window in your bedroom, gazing out at the bricked buildings you wondered what life was truly like a hundred years ago in this city. You would get so lost in your thoughts looking out the window that you would often get this overwhelming feeling like you were not supposed to be here, you were living a life that was yours but in the wrong era, it was overpowering at times. You always put it down to your passion for the past and your longing to experience life in a different time. But was it?

It was Sunday, a day you enjoyed the most. Why? Because it was the day you would drag your friend to the antique markets. She loved history but was baffled why a 20 something year old girl would love old dusty smelly objects that in her opinion were better of in the bin.

"Come on Louise, please?"

"Jesus Y/N, don't you have enough old crap?"

" Erh no never...plus I have been waiting for this particular antique fair all year, everyone's hyped for it"

"Hyped for it? Do 70 plus year olds get hyped for things?" Your friend asked with a laugh.

" I'll have you know there are plenty of younger people that go to these markets, it's quite boujee nowadays to decorate your place with little antique nick nacks here and there"

" Boujee" She laughed "fine but you owe me a coffee and the biggest slice of cake available. Why is this one so special compared to the hundreds of others we go to every year?" She said trying to hide her laugh.

" Well...this antique fair will probably never happen again, its only antiques collected from one particular area of Birmingham, Small Heath"

You saw the flyer for the event on your way to Uni one day. After checking online for more information you knew you couldn't miss it, it was a one off event. Apparently the building everything had been stored in for over a hundred years had been brought by property developers and they wanted to get rid of it all, and quickly. The collection was supposed to be sold off to a museum but when the museum decided they no longer wanted to buy the lot of items it was left to collect dust, now everything had to go. Online it stated that there would be all sorts of items from local businesses to household items, clothes, jewelry, books, old newspapers, documents and furniture. You had to go.

Living in Sparkhill not far from Small Heath you decided to take public transport. After a short bus ride you made it to the antique fair. It was already pretty busy and much to your friends amusement you was indeed the only ones attending that weren't over the age of 60.

" Don't say anything" you mumbled to her.

" Are you sure your not from a different century? " She laughed.

Rolling your eyes grumbling to yourself you started to browse the tables. You was amazed at how well preserved everything was. There was everything you could think of for sale, a lot of it out of your price range but you couldn't help but lose yourself looking through it all.

" Y/N, come look at this old pub stuff" your friend called over.

" The Garrison? Do you think that was the name of the pub" you said looking at a large wooden plaque with the name written across it.

" Must be... Ooh! look at these old whiskey glasses, how much are these? She asked the man behind the table.

" For a set of four, 10 quid love"

" You don't even drink whiskey" you leaned into her and whispered.

"I'll take them. She nodded to to the seller. " Well I can put some Bailey's in them, that's close enough right?"

Shaking your head laughing you wandered off to the next stall. Bending down looking into a box you saw some old documents in a paper folder tied together with a red string "The Peaky Blinders ".

" Can I open this ?" you asked the woman.

" Go ahead darling" she nodded.

Opening it up you came across newspaper articles, business documents, police reports and one name In particular that kept popping up, Thomas Shelby. Quickly skimming over an article It talked about a razor gang called the Peaky Blinders based in Small Heath and the leader of that gang was one Mr Thomas Shelby. You were intrigued.

" How much for everything?" You asked.

" For you my lovely 20 pound"

A little pricey you thought, considering you could probably find all this information for free at the Sparkhill library you worked part time at but these were the original documents and newspaper clippings so you decided to go ahead and buy them.

"What did you find?" your friend asked while looking through some old books.

" This old folder about a razor gang that used to operate around here in the early 20th century"

" Riveting" She laughed.

" Ha.ha, I thought it would be a good idea for our latest Uni assignment"

" When our lecturer told us to pick a prominent figure that helped in the building of Birmingham's industrial and economical past I don't think he ment a razor gang Y/N" she laughed.

" It's still interesting though, could be a different take on the assignment? From what I have read so far this Thomas Shelby sounds like a dangerous man"

" I guess it is, if you like bad boys right?" She giggled linking arms with you as you both continued to look through the stalls.

"Wow Louise look at this necklace" you said as you beckoned your friend over with your hand.

"That's beautiful Y/N, you should get it"

The necklace itself was a small gold locket, turning it over there was the engraved initials M.S.

"I wonder who M.S was?" You asked your friend.

"Don't know" she said brushing her thumb over the engraving" but I'm sure with your research skills you will find out"

You continued to look at the locket, you tried opening it but it appeared to be jammed. Just as you was examining the locket for any damage an older lady appeared next to you. Her hands were adorned with rings and she had a curious looking necklace hanging around her neck, noticing you looking at it she spoke to you.

"It's the black Madonna" she said pressing the palm of her hand on it smiling to you. "It keeps me safe".

"It's beautifull, I've never seen anything like it" you said looking at her. She looked familiar, but you couldn't figure out where you had seen her before.

"You should get that" she said putting a friendly hand on your arm.

"Sorry?" You replied confused.

"The gold locket" she said opening your clasped hand around it. "It belongs with you" she said as she closed your hand around it again.

"I'm sorry, have I met you before? You look so familiar" you said as her piercing blue eyes looked deep into yours.

Shaking her head she smiled sweetly. "Maybe we knew eachother in another life"

Smiling back you opened your hand and looked at the locket nestled in your palm. She was right it did feel like it belonged to you, you couldn't explain it, you was drawn to it.

"I think I will get it" you said to the seller.

Turning to face the old lady, she was still looking at you, when you noticed a small tear in the corner of her eye.

"Thank you for convincing me, I'll treasure it" you said, slightly worried that you had upset this dear old lady somehow.

Patting your arm she turned and walked away giving you one last endearing smile.

"Who was that?" Asked your friend

" I don't know, but I feel like I know her from somewhere" you said your eyes following her as she disappeared through the market.

You continued looking through the antique fair for another hour, nothing else catching your eye you both decided to go have some lunch.

A few hours later you arrived back home. Going straight to your bedroom, you looked at your new locket and decided to try it on. It sat perfectly in the middle of your chest, you smiled at yourself in the mirror slightly adjusting it to make it straight. Sitting on your bed you opened up the folder you brought and started to read through everything.

How had you never heard of this gang? You thought to yourself. You knew almost everything about Birmingham's past. These documents looked official though, like someone was collecting information on them. Maybe they were never ment to be seen by anyone. Which begged the question how did they end up in a box at an antique fair? Feeling tired and overwhelmed with information you closed the folder deciding to research through the archives at work tomorrow.

The next day at work on your break you logged onto your computer. Clicking on archives you started typing key words into the search bar. Peaky Blinders, Birmingham razor gang, Shelby family, Small heath gang, Watery lane betting shop, Shelby company limited, Thomas Shelby. But nothing, nothing came up. One last go you thought to yourself, and you typed T.Shelby. There was one link, a death certificate. Clicking on it, you realised it was a death certificate for Thomas Michael Shelby born January 1890 death February 1922 Small Heath, Birmingham. It didn't state how he died, but mentally calculating his birth date and death date you realised he died pretty young. You was so intrigued by this gang, if you was going to use them for your assignment you needed to know more. Slightly frustrated with the lack of anymore information, you decided to dig deeper.

"Janette?" You said calling over to your boss." Will you do me a huge favour?" You said with pleading eyes.

"What do you need now?" she said as she crossed her arms with a slight chuckle.

"Can I have access to the Birmingham Journal newspaper archives"

"What year?"

"1922"

"We should have them upstairs in the storage room, but first things first are you going to tell me what your looking for?" your boss asked curiously.

"I'm doing research on this gang for Uni, the leader Thomas Shelby died in 1922 but on his death certificate it doesn't say how, don't you find that weird?"

"It's not that unusual, if he was part of a gang the authorities would have probably tried to cover it up, I mean I wouldn't be surprised if the police were on his payroll" she laughed raising her eyebrows. "Go on then, just be careful those books are very old, we really need to photocopy them onto the online database, I've told Richard plenty of tim..." She trailed off as she walked away still talking to herself.

Up in the storage room you was losing hope, you had already gone through two very large books filled with news articles from 1922. Pulling out the the third book from the shelf you let out a big sigh. Turning to the first page the article talked about an Italian gang and a man called Darby Sabini "wrong gang" you huffed. Ten pages later at the bottom corner of a newspaper was a short article. " Birmingham gang leader from small heath killed by rival gang". This has to be it you thought. It didn't specify it was the Peaky Blinders gang, but how many other gangs could there have been in Small Heath? It stated that... "The leader of the notorious Small Heath gang had been beaten within an inch of his life in an alleyway by a rumoured rival Italian gang, and was later found dead slumped in his office chair". You sat back in your chair sighing "Jesus Christ, what a way to go" you said aloud. He must have made his way back to his office, and died right there at his desk you thought. Curious you decided to find out where his office was located. After a few minutes of searching you found it on the online property census under the name "T.S Offices". It was close to the city center not far from Small Health. Checking the bus route online you realised the bus to his office passed right by Watery Lane.

Looking up at the clock, only 10 minutes left untill the library closes you said to yourself. Tapping your pen on the desk, fiddling with your new gold locket you was getting agitated, was you really going to do this? It was a pretty morbid thing to do, visiting the place where someone had died, but you had invested so much time into knowing about this man's life. You knew who his family was, that he served in the first world war, that he had an illegal betting shop heck you even knew where he brought his suits from, although you questioned if he actually brought them. You had read everything in that folder you found at the antique fair, tried to find anything on the online databases, you needed a conclusion to his story.

Finally it was five o'clock, packing up your things and turning off the front desk computer you hurried out the library waving goodbye to your colleagues. Walking to take the bus it finally occured to you that the office building was probably no longer there or had been converted into a block of flats. Stopping you started to turn around away from the bus stop, this was stupid, what was you doing you thought to yourself. Then you stoped again walking back to the bus stop then turning around again you walked away, you must have looked like a mad woman to anybody passing by. With a huge huff you psyched yourself up and headed back to the bus stop just in time for the bus. After a ten minute ride you arrived at your stop.

" Excuse me, excuse me!" You waved over to an elderly man on the opposite side of the road.

" I'm trying to find the old T.S offices? "

" Just around the corner love" he pointed to his right

" Thanks" you shouted back heading in that direction.

Turning the corner, you was now on a long road, each side of you were tall red bricked buildings. The direction to Thomas Shelby's office was down that very same street and then as you turn the corner on the left hand side it should be there. Walking down the street a strange feeling came over you, you thought about turning back until you came to the end of the road and saw it. It was still there, the building was still there, you couldn't believe it. It looked completely abandoned, a few windows smashed in and tall metal gates surrounding it with a sign saying "Keep out. Private property". Without even thinking you opened the bottom of the two metal gates being held together with a large metal chain and padlock and slid between them. It was pretty obvious others had been here before, a few beer bottles lying on the grass and some graffiti on the large wooden front door. You pushed with as much force as you could and opened the door. Stumbling in you first came across a large wooden staircase, on your left was an empty room so you decided to head up stairs. As you got to the top the first thing you noticed was that there was still some old furniture, desks facing opposite eachother, one even having an old type writer still on it. Paper was scattered all over the old floorboards and the paint on the walls was chipped and falling off. Picking up one of the papers it read at the top "Shelby Company Limited", you was definitely in the right place.

At the end of the room was a large door, that had to be his office you thought. Making your way over to the door that uneasy feeling started to creep up again, swallowing it down you opened the door. Inside was a large wooden desk and chair, walking over to the desk you brushed your fingers along the back of the leather chair. "Jesus Christ, it's cold In here" you whispered closing your cardigan around you. The windows were not broken in here though, why was it so cold? It was mid January, but wasn't a particularly cold day. Standing facing the window you exhaled out a breath of condensation. Rubbing your arms trying to warm yourself up, you looked down and noticed another piece of paper, it looked like a letter and was signed in hand "Thomas Shelby". Picking it up you sighed " So this is where you took your final breath Thomas Shelby".

Folding up the paper and putting it in your pocket you started to smell something strange a mix of tobacco and what you thought was whiskey. What the fuck you thought to yourself. Then you realised...shit, your not alone. You hadn't turned around from the window since picking up the letter, and you knew that when you would, you'd come face to face with the other person in this room. Slowly turning around your eyes on the floor, with your hands raised up shaking you spoke "I'm sorry...i'm sorry, I kno...know I shouldn't be in here". Your eyes still on the floor you was now facing the doorway, slowly lifting your gaze you noticed two black boots stood in-between the door frame, a long black coat resting against each side of the figures legs. As your eyes moved up you noticed the dark figures hands in their trouser pockets and a gold pocket watch chain attached to their waistcoat. Shaking you finally looked straight ahead of you, and there was a man with a lit cigarette in his mouth and a peaked cap shadowing his face. As he looked up his pale almost sickly white face came into your vision, a look of pure anger and malice spread across his face. His piercing pale blue eyes stared deep into yours, until in a dark deep husky voice he spoke...

"Who the fuck are you?"

NEXT PART

[tsukimefuku]

these silly little memories ❖ nanami kento

summary: you reminisce about the past while chatting with ijichi and yuuji.

tags: jujutsu kaisen, f!reader, soft/implied nanami x reader, fluff, poking fun at nanami's teenage bangs.

wc: 900

notes, etc: i wrote this to the sound of sunny (yorushika). this is a short little silly story that i had in my mind for a while before finally deciding on writing it, lol.

❖ collection of stories: "jujutsu partners au" → masterlist for fics listed in chronological order of events

You, Ijichi and Yuuji were seated silently on a table. All three were waiting for Nanami to meet up just so everybody could take a single car ride — he and Yuuji were going on a mission together, and you were going home after assisting Shoko on her duties for the day.

You could pay for a cab, but then again, why would you do that if you could slack off some more benefits from Jujutsu High?

"So, Ijichi..." You began, half-minded at this point. It had barely been a week since you arrived at Jujutsu High.

He quickly propped up, ready to answer absolutely any question you could have as a new sorcerer (and somebody else to order him around, it seemed).

Since you were new to Jujutsu High, had not been on a mission with Nanami up until this point, and Gojo was the one to bring you in, Ijichi figured you'd still have questions about the way things worked around there.

"Y-yes?"

"What is Nanami like here?" You questioned, out of the blue.

That caught both him and Yuuji by surprise, as both of them answered with a resounding eh?

You sighed.

"I mean, he was a very stern, serious teenager when I met him years ago. He looks a lot different, but is he?"

"Oh, you knew Nanamin?!" Yuuji asked, eager to pry some insight into his newly found mentor. 

You looked at him and smiled.

"Oh, yeah, I sure did. We met at Odate when he and Gojo saved me."

Ijichi's mind started to flash some things to him until he finally realized.

"Wait. That was you?!"

You blinked, confused.

"What do you mean, 'that was me?'"

"I-I..." Ijichi stuttered. "I was the one helping him in research during that mission."

"Oh... Oh! Ijichi, of course!" You exclaimed, much to his surprise, while you remembered decade-old bits and pieces. "It's good to finally be meeting you in person" you said, tapping his shoulder.

He smiled, slightly embarrassed for not having recognized your name when you introduced yourself a few days ago.

"So you knew him as a teenager too! Is he any different now?" You inquired, staring at Ijichi until he became a little uncomfortable.

"I-I think not. He was always the most responsible and m-mature one of us" Ijichi finally answered, and you smiled, reclining back on your chair. 

"Nanamin is very serious," Yuuji began, "and he usually lectures us when we have a blunder or are in the middle of a mission — or maybe it's just me that he lectures so much."

"No, it's every one..." Ijichi answered, involuntarily sighing.

"Oh, he still does that? The lecturing thing?" You asked. "I mean, maturity minus the bangs, right?" You chirped, chuckling softly. Ijichi covered his mouth, but you could see a faint smile forming.

Yuuji was at a loss.

"Bangs?" The boy asked earnestly.

"Oh, you're gonna love this!" You said, as you fished your wallet out of your pocket. From it, you took an old Polaroid picture that featured you, your best friend, your brother, Nanami and Gojo when they were on their mission in Odate. Then, you proceeded to hand the picture to Yuuji, and his eyes beamed, like he had discovered some very important piece of information instead of complete shenanigans.

"Those bangs were something. Once, when I had to patch his face up, his hair kept falling all over the bruises, it looked like someone had punched a blonde Gerard Way" you let out, scratching your head with a grin. Yuuji let out a laugh, and Ijichi seemed to scoff in an attempt to keep himself from laughing.

You noticed that.

"Oh, come on, Ijichi. You know it was funny and somewhat true. You can totally laugh about it with me, I won't tell if you don't, promise" you said, extending a pinkie finger in his direction.

He looked at your hand uncertain, but began lifting his own pinkie extended towards yours.

"What is the fun? I heard laughter" the already familiar voice resounded from behind the three of you.

Ijichi was paralyzed in stone, and you turned your face grinning mischievously at Nanami. Yuuji quickly tried hiding the picture, fumbling around and letting it fall to the ground.

"Hm?" Nanami got down to pick up the picture, and took a good look at it. "It seems that you have this ancient piece of history still in your possession."

"Of course. How else would I have a picture of 'bangs Nanami?'" You retorted, reaching for the picture while still seated.

He took a step back, pulling it away from you. 

"If I remember correctly, that morning you ate tamagoyaki inside miso soup, with salmon, also inside miso soup, all mashed up, and choked yourself," he said, lifting his gaze towards you, one brow up.

"Eh? T-that... did not h-happen at all!" It did.

"Wait, so you... Put your tamagoyaki inside your miso soup? Why?" Ijichi asked, slightly incredulous.

"And with mashed salmon too?!" Yuuji chimed in, also kind of aghast.

"Oh, shut up, the both of you!"

You crossed your arms over your chest.

"I just don't really care how I eat my food!"

"Clearly" Nanami noted. "She also mixes anything she has available to eat into a desecrated version of the original food. It's unsightly" he complemented, before handing the picture back to you.

You sighed, amusedly defeated, saying, "well, you have changed. Now you poke me back when I poke fun at you."

"I'm unaware of such a thing," Nanami replied, pushing his glasses into position with one hand, using the opportunity to cover up a discreet smile with his hand over his face.

[definitelynotaminion]

Rated "R" - Part 4

First 7k here (my blog) or on ao3 here | Skip ahead to the end of my WIP doc/see all updates on patreon (full 11k doc) | The tag i'm using for this fic on tumblr (chronological order)

-

His breath picks up, exactly like a little bird trying to keep his respiration even without the cheat of tactical breathing patterns. Giving Jason his-- fuck, his honesty here, not trying to hide behind the training!

“God, I was a little asshole.” Jason says fondly. “Leaning over you, nudging you, teasing just to get a reaction.”

“It was terrfying.” Tim says, lips pursed but audibly fighting a smile. “I was worried you’d find out that I knew. Or that I was so far from home.”

“Instead you showed me a shit picture of the sky—you totally took that right before I landed on the balcony, you little shit—and stuttered through your planned lies and let me talk you into sneaking out to the corner ice cream shop.”

It’s fuzzy around the edges, just another night as Robin before the end, but Jason remembers how easy it was to coax startled laughter and wide-eyes out of the boy, how impressed he’d been when Tim shimmied down the fire escape so easily for his ‘first time’.

“It was the best of night of my life.” Tim says quietly. Not quite wistful, but something… a treasure, here, pressed into Jason’s hands.

Jason had swung the young boy back to the landing, felt his shock and joy even as he was so quiet, not whooping or screaming—Jason wasn’t suppsoed to use the grapple with civilians outside of emergencies, but aside from the stuttering and awe he hadn’t managed to get strong reactions out of Tim.

He'd wanted to.

“I’d have recognized you.” Jason announces. His head thumps back on the pillow. “At the next gala.”

A sharp inhale.

“You… that was only two weeks before Garzonas.”

“And three weeks before I fucking bit it, I gotcha.” Jason blows out air heavily. “I don’t remember the dates, but that was April. Earth Day had already happened, so…The next one would have been, what, the Belmonts’ charity ball?”

Tim disagrees with a little noise of dissent.

“Sophia Starr held a big event in May to raise money for cancer research.” He reminds. “Her aunt died from brain cancer the year before.”

“Better that than fundraising for shitty outreach programs that ended up embezzled, or tax write offs, or fucking—early movie showings.” Jason had almost forgotten the contempt in his heart for all the different reasons Gotham’s elite got together to spend their hoardes of money.

“Mm.” Tim quietly agrees. “You weren’t there.”

Jason squeezes his eyes closed, thinking about where he was instead—and what he would have given up to be there, once the trap sprung. 

Shit. He needs a distraction. Galas and balls, little birds dancing around each other.

“If I had been?” Jason tips his chin up, eyes still closed. “What was your plan, hmm? I’d have recognized you.”

A shaky inhale as his reward. Jason grins again.

“Do you think you’d have come, even if your parents weren’t in town? Tim Drake, almost old enough to be chauferred there, to apologize with a smile for his parents’ absense. Schmooze a little on their behalf.”

“I first did that to get close to… well.” Tim lets the words trail off, lets Jason pick up what had really been going on at the time. “It was closer to the end of summer by the time I realized someone had to step in.”

“Let’s not go there,” Jason decides, letting his eyes open, see the lines in the ceiling. “We’re painting a different picture, here, Tim. C’mon.”

“Yeah?” Something soft in that tone, almost breathless. Jason gets more comfortable.

“Mm.” Jason prompts. “The mysterious boy at the gala. I’m… on edge. Fed up with Bruce’s bullshit. I’d latch onto that kind of distraction.”

“Latch onto… me.” Tim blinks hard.

“You were a mystery, baby bird. I was a detective.” Jason clicks his tongue. “Besides, those parties were miserable. You would have been fun.”

[mitsuristoleme]

The Odds Is Gone

Written for @kentopedia ‘s collab event- Love Through The Ages

I present to you my take on the tragic love story of Mark Antony and Cleopatra VII! Except picture Sanemi as Antony and Reader as Cleopatra!

cw: 2.4k words, historical au, fem!Cleopatra!Reader, Mark Antony!Sanemi, angst, smut, praise kink if you squint, they banter just a little bit, mention of Sanemi cheating on his wife, suicide, this one is beta read yall!!!, 18+ minors dni (i swear if i see a minor/ ageless blog interact i will block you)

a/n: The amount of rewriting and research i put into this fic is so fucking unreal i kid you not. I switched between 4 POVs and so MANY plot points to cover or leave out, it made me lose my mind. Also I feel like I need to mention that I hit 2k words right when Sanemi says “I love you” for the first time. So. Do with that what you will. Also this is my first time writing smut, and also angst, please go easy on me.

A hugeeeeee thank you to @forest-hashira for helping me out. Without them, this fic would probably not be what it is. Go show them some love (threat)

This fic switches between the narrative and a bunch of flashback scenes. The flashback scenes are all in italics and I've put in dividers between each one, just so there's no confusion in what's going on.

Caesar intended to keep you as a trophy.

You let out a prideful scoff, sandals clacking loudly as you strode towards the medical wing of your palace. 

Did the man truly think he could bring you, Cleopatra VII of Egypt, as a fucking war trophy, to show off to all of Rome? 

You paused in front of the ornate door, your heart urging you forward, yet your feet frozen in place. 

The door swung open, interrupting your silent debate with your own body. As if the Gods themselves would not force a decision this cruel on you. 

The chief doctor’s eyes widened slightly as she took in your presence. She recovered her composure quick enough, bowing low in respect. 

“My Lady,” she greeted, “I was just about to send a message to you. I suppose the Gods would rather I tell you in person.”

“Kocho,” you dipped your head in acknowledgement.

“Lord Shinazugawa’s body has been embalmed and it is ready for whenever you decide to hold the ritual for his entombment.”

You nodded.

You suspected she would have to do this exact charade with someone else if you carried through with what you were planning. 

“You’re dismissed for the day, Kocho.”

“But My Lady-“ 

Your gaze softened as you met your friend’s worried eyes. 

She seemed to hesitate as she asked, “Are you alright, My Lady?”

“I am, Shinobu,” you nodded reassuringly, “Truly. Thank you for everything. I will come find you later. I would like to see him. In solitude, please.” 

She bowed and left, but not before throwing a worried glance over her shoulder. 

You waited until she had vanished down the corridor to throw open the gold embossed doors to the medical wing. 

As you shut the doors behind you, your gaze landed on him. Sanemi Shinazugawa. Roman Consul. Triumvir of the Second Triumvirate. Mighty warrior. Your lover. Your ‘Nemi.

As you stepped closer, the wound on his chest, where he had stabbed himself with his sword, was glaringly obvious on his alabaster skin. 

You had seen him with scars, memorised every inch of the ones on his chest, his face and his arms. You never thought there would be one that would lead to him, lying lifeless in front of you. 

He did not seem dead. Only as though he was sleeping, as he did every night beside you. He seemed as though any moment, he would wake from his seemingly peaceful slumber and land his adoring lilac gaze on you, his lips curving into that beautiful smile.

Oh, what wouldn’t you sacrifice to have his eyes on you again. You would take every bit of disdain he may have towards you for your betrayals during battle, for faking your death. You would give everything just to have him back.

Every nerve in your body screamed to rudely interrupt his sleep and demand his affection, his hands over your body and his lips on yours. 

But you couldn’t. 

Your lover had taken his life two days ago. He had impaled himself on his own blade because he thought you were dead. 

He had bled out in your arms, on the floor of your chambers as you had wept in regret and heartache. 

Sanemi was dead. And it was all your fault.

“He has vowed to kill you himself, My Lady,” your messenger said.

You couldn’t blame him. Not really. If you’re being truthful, you understand the impetus.

So why did hearing your lover’s declaration (could you even call him that anymore?) coming from your messenger’s mouth feel like a knife being driven into your heart?

The thought that the very man who would spend hours whispering sweet nothings into your ear, making silly jokes that made you double over laughing, the man who made you feel like just a normal woman instead of an Empress equated to a Goddess, had now taken it upon himself to bring about your demise, was agony to your heart.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself, ever the picture of grace and composure to your subjects.

“Tell him I have committed suicide.” 

“My- My Lady?”

“You heard me.

You had sent the damned message to protect your life.

But what of your heart?

Your heart that he’d held in his hands. 

The same hands that had held his sword as he fell upon it. The same hands that had held yours, bloodied and broken, but still warm. The same hands that had wiped away your tears as they fell, smearing blood over your face as he whispered his final confession of love towards you, smiling the way he always did.

“We shall meet in another life, my love,” he’d rasped before his hand went limp against your cheek and his body lifeless in your arms.

“SANEMI!”

You lunged forward to grab him from your guards with a piercing cry.

His mouth quivered into a wobbly smile as you clutched onto his broken form with a fierce protectiveness. Or was it a grimace? You sank to the floor, unable to support his weight any longer, resting his back against your raised thigh, holding him by his waist and supporting his head.

You shot a look towards your chamber doors, your guards taking the unspoken order to leave you alone.

“Well hello, dearest,” your lover’s weak voice said, drawing your attention back to him, “It would appear that you’ve lied to me once more.”

How this man found the gall to tease you, even on his deathbed, was admirable.

“Gods, I love you,” you whispered, running your hand along his stubble. It must have grown out during the time you’d been apart. 

He coughed, blood making its way out his mouth, as he clutched at his chest with an agonised groan. As his coughing fit subsided, he grinned at you, showing off his now blood stained teeth, “I love you too.”

You pressed down on his wound the way Shinobu had taught you, looking at him worriedly.

“I shall call for Kocho. You require medical att-”

Sanemi pressed a bloodied hand against your mouth, stopping you from continuing.

“No,” he whispered, “I’m afraid this is where it ends for me. I have decided it does. I fell on my sword because I couldn’t bear to live in a world without you in it. I shall not go back on my decision now.”

You shook your head, eyes pooling with tears, “Yes, but I am here, you fool. I am alive and you must stay with me. How am I to live without you?”

He took a shuddering breath, raising his hand to gently wipe your tears off your face. The metallic sting of iron hit your nose as his hand smeared his blood across your cheeks. His actions did nothing to soothe you, only making you sob more, hugging him tighter to your chest.

You cupped his face and watched as his own tears fell, rivulets of salty water, carving their way through the crusted red near the corner of his mouth. 

“I love you,” he said, his voice shaky, his hand never having left its task of wiping your tears away. “I love you so much, it hurts more than stabbing myself in my chest.”

Another pained exhale. 

“We shall meet in another life, my love,” he rasped, his hand slipping off your cheek and his head lolling back against your leg.

You hugged his body close to you, sobbing against his shoulder, knowing that his fingers would never comfortingly run through your hair again, that he’d wiped your tears off your face for the last time.

“I miss you ‘Nemi,” you murmured, ghosting your fingers across his now clean face. The memory of his features crusted over with blood had made your mind its home, Sanemi’s final moments coming back to you in your nightmares. 

The night of his death, you had refused to part with his body, laying in bed with his cold corpse, desperately praying to Isis to bring him back. To Ra to give you back the man you loved. 

But such is fate. 

The next morning you woke, feeling horrible, still in your royal robes, your eyes puffy from crying, Sanemi still dead, and Caesar’s declaration to take you as prisoner looming over your head.

An idea formed in your head, a way to escape the loss of your dignity and to be reunited with your lover.

“More,” you near sobbed between kisses, “Sanemi, please, I need more.”

His hands were running over your body, trailing over your sides, grabbing at the fat of your thighs, tweaking your nipple, leaving a trail of blazing need behind his touch. He was everywhere. Except where you needed him and it was driving you crazy.

You could feel his achingly hard dick pressing into your stomach. Just above where you wanted it.

Gods, this man was going to make you go insane.

You let out an almost embarrassingly loud moan into his mouth when his finger brushed against your clit, bucking your hips up, seeking more of his touch. 

“Desperate are we, Your Majesty?” he teased, relenting his attack on your lips to trail hot open mouthed kisses down the column of your throat, stopping to suck at your breast, and continuing further down, before suddenly pulling away.

A light smirk played at his lips at your despondent whine. He leaned down, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head, hovering his lips above yours.

His lilac gaze darted between your eyes and your lips, “If only Egypt could see the little whore their almighty queen becomes for a filthy Roman, hmm?” 

“If only your wife could see you fucking the Queen of Egypt, hmm?” you bit back, relishing in the way his eyes widened, the scar on his nose crinkling as he grinned at you.

His hand wandered down to rest between your thighs, parting your folds to rub slow circles around your clit, cocky grin never leaving his face. “Don’t you worry, My Queen. I know just what you want.” He brushed his lips along the shell of your ear, before whispering, “And I am going to give it to you.”

With that, he lined himself up with your dripping cunt and gently pushed in, inch- by- inch, drawing it out, making your eyes roll back into your head from the delicious stretch. 

“Alright there?” Sanemi’s voice forced you to open your eyes to meet his concerned gaze. 

Always one to take consent before he obliterated you. 

Letting out a pleased hum, you reach up to thread your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to kiss him, your tongue moving languidly against his. “Move, ‘Nemi. Please. I can’t take it anymore.”

“Shh I got you, pretty,” he soothes, pulling his hips back, thrusting back into your pulsing heat, eliciting a wanton moan from your lips. 

He set the pace almost torturously slow, his cock moving in and out of your wet heat with sharp calculated thrusts, kissing your cervix every time he sank into you. 

He shifted slightly, pulling your torso up before settling a pillow he’d taken from the currently unused side of the bed under your lower back, gently setting you back. The change in position had your hips propped up, giving Sanemi a lot more leverage over the speed and depth of his thrusts. 

He gave his hips an experimental roll, his lips curling into a self satisfied smirk when you moaned, your fingers digging into his forearm. 

“So- so deep-“ you gasped.

“Am I now?” he groans as he picks up the pace. “C-can’t help it, darling. This sweet cunt is just sucking me in. Gods, you’re so warm- So wet for me. All f’me, huh?”

“Mh-Mhmm- Only for you, Sanemi, only you,” you whined, your walls clamping around him. Your hands found their way to his back, fingernails digging into the battle hardened skin as you clutched onto him, as he feverishly pounded into you.

“I love you,” Sanemi whispered reverently. “Dear Gods, I love you so much.”

Tears rolling down your cheek snapped you out of your reverie. 

The night he’d said 'I love you' for the first time. 

You’d spent the rest of the night tenderly making love, whispering hushed confessions of love to each other. 

He would never say the words to you again. 

Gods, how you missed him. 

You moved aside your robes to reveal the wicker basket hanging next to your leg. Your hands were shaky as you freed it from the rope tying it to the  inside of your robes.

Setting the sealed basket down on the floor, you turned to your dead lover, running a gentle hand along his jaw, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. 

“We shall meet once more, my dearest. In another life, you shall be mine for longer. And I shall cherish your smile with the fire of a thousand suns. Thank you. Our time was short, but precious all the same. I love you.”

You opened the basket, revealing the hissing asp. Smiling, you held your hand out towards the poisonous reptile, allowing it to slither onto your arm. 

You shivered at the coldness of the snake’s skin against the warmth of yours, a pained exhale forcing its way out of you when you felt the fangs pierce through the skin of your forearm. 

By no means were the effects to be immediate, you had done enough research to know that. 

You sat on the floor, next to where Sanemi’s embalmed body lay, for the longest hour of your life, watching the flesh of your forearm begin to bruise and swell up, stinging painfully. All the while you pondered if you should get up and find Shinobu. Make up some excuse about the bite. 

Would your people not consider you a coward should you go through with this?

But was it not a bigger disgrace to be paraded around as a trophy of war? 

No. You would not turn back on your decision. Just as Sanemi had not.

Consumed by the urge to see the face of your lover one last time, you pulled yourself off the floor with great effort, only for a wave of intense nausea to hit you, causing you to double over as you vomited your guts out.

Your legs trembled before giving in under your weight. You vaguely registered your ankle twisting, surely causing a sprain, as your senses dulled. Black spots danced around your vision and your mouth started dribbling foam.

The last thing you heard was a panicked shout of “MY LADY!” before giving in to the warm embrace of death.

tagging: @forest-hashira and @wifeyana

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