#or be as likely to chalk it up to them happening to not know that word

[impishjesters]

Caught smoking hot

content warning(s): reader smokes cigarettes, polysaja x reader, reader (me) is lowkey a brat A/N: Sometimes I pretend what it's like to have someone who loves me and cares about my health. But then I remember that'll never happen because I'm not dateable (but if I were dating someone and they sat me down to try and get me to stop smoking, I'd do it in a heartbeat). This is essentially a self-insert, but I figured I'd share it anyway. Also, I absolutely live for the boys' bickering. I think this is one of my favourite writings as of late, and that even if YOU don't smoke (don't smoke, period), this is still a super cute read.

You sat in your living room, tucked out of the way. The couch and floor are taken up by the five big bone heads that make up the Saja Boys, who are all currently yelling at one another while playing Mario Kart. You don’t even own a switch, and when you asked them why they brought it here to play?

“No offense, but your place is boring… if we leave the switch there, we at least have something to do.”

It doesn’t really bother you, the apartment isn’t meant to fit five grown men and yourself. Which is why most hangouts don’t happen at your place, or at least they didn’t until recently. At the end of the day, it’s easiest to chalk it up to them wanting to get out, and your place just so happens to be the best place to get away from work.

The sudden spike in volume breaks you from your daydreaming, and briefly, you’re stuck worried about your poor neighbors. Abby and Baby are both arguing, poised to start throwing hands at any second, while Romance and Jinu are stuck wedging themselves between the two. Romance’s soft voice reminds them that they aren’t at home, their roughhousing will only break something here.

Mystery stands off to the side, and the two of you make eye contact. He shrugged and turned his head back to the TV and started the next round, whether they were ready or not. The countdown caught their attention just in time for at least Abby and Baby to stop bickering and focus on Mario Kart.

The dull throbbing in your head from their bickering never goes away, you love the boys more than anything, but when Abby and Baby get into it, you want nothing more than to throttle both of them.

With their attention drawn back to the game, you quietly got up and grabbed your pack of cigarettes and lighter before carefully stepping onto the balcony, silencing their voices the moment the glass door slid closed.

A sigh of relief leaves your lips as you sit down at the small chair and table, the cool air on your face helping ease the throbbing in your skull. After lighting up a cigarette, you sat there, the muffled bickering turning into background noise while you smoked.

Mystery is the first one to notice you’re gone, the sudden scent of cigarette smoke hitting his nose. His sudden, abrupt movement causes the rest to look at him in confusion, which goes ignored as he shoves Jinu’s face out of the way to get past him and heads straight for the balcony.

The balcony door catches your attention, and before you can even finish your hit, the cigarette is being ripped out of your hand and crumpled in someone’s hand. “Hey! That’s hot, shit head!”

“So that’s why you smell like cigarette smoke…” Mystery flatly replies, opening his palm and letting you grab the now-smashed cigarette.

“Why else would I smell like cigarette smoke?”

“Someone else is smoking around you.”

Your mouth opens and closes a few times, unable to find any words of argument as you drop the crushed cigarette into the ashtray. Another arm reaches out from behind you and yanks the pack of cigarettes before you can even grab them.

“Jagiya,” Romance’s voice is soft, but there’s a tone of concern in the pet name, “You smoke?”

You know better than to look at him and stupidly did so anyway, Romance’s crestfallen expression stabbing you straight in the heart. Mystery certainty wasn’t helping, looking like a kicked puppy with his bottom lip slightly sticking out. You grab your chest dramatically and look away, unable to look at them.

“Aish…” You wave your hand at the two of them lazily. “You two worry too much, I’m not gonna just keel over.”

Romance grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you up from the seat and back into the house, while Mystery grabbed your lighter and ashtray, bringing them back inside. The others watched in confusion as Romance pulled you to the front of the group, blocking the TV and earning a quiet ‘move’ from Baby.

“Really, Romance?”

He watched you cross your arms and mimicked your annoyed stance. “Yes, really.”

“Someone want to explain why your flat ass is blocking the TV?” Baby grumbled.

Romance shot Baby a glare, and somehow that’s enough for Baby to ease up and take it seriously. “Did any of you know that our little soul was smoking?”

“What?”

“Smoking hot.” Someone smacked Abby in the back of the head, “ow”.

Jinu looked at you, confused, until Mystery walked over and showed them the pack of cigarettes like it was a show and tell.

One of them says your name, but you’re too busy trying to sink into the floor, even as you gradually try slipping to the ground. Romance’s grip on your wrist keeps you on your feet. “I’m a grown adult, ah, older than all of you!” You scolded.

“Then why are you acting like a fussy child, trying to slip out of my hold?” The bitter tone in Romance’s voice has not just you, but the others flinching as if they were the ones being scolded.

Jinu, ever the angel, comes to your rescue, sort of. “How long have you been smoking?”

“You haven’t always smelt like cigarette smoke…” Mystery tacked on.

You idly fuss, moving your arm this way and that while Romance’s hold remains firm. “Uh, almost a year?”

“Why?”

The question makes you blush in embarrassment, Romance tugging you forward when you try to hide behind him. “You’ll laugh at me…”

“Jagiya, my soul, we would never laugh. This is a serious discussion.” Romance’s grip loosens on your wrist, and he takes your hand in his, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

“Aiya…” You sigh and rub your face with your free hand. “Boredom.”

“Boredom?” Baby repeats. “You dead ass?”

Jinu reaches over Abby and shoves Baby’s head down in a crude apology. “Ignore him. What do you mean by boredom?”

“Well,” you sigh, uncomfortably shifting foot to foot. “I’m not dumb, I know smoking is bad. It’s not something I do all the time, though I have been smoking more lately…”

“Stress?” Mystery chimes in.

“Eugh, don’t remind me.” You jokingly wave your hand towards the pack of cigarettes, and Mystery crushes the box in his hand. “My cigarettes! You!” Romance holds your hand tightly, your leg and free arm flailing at Mystery as an empty threat to kick his ass.

“Focus,” he scolded, his free hand coming up to hold your chin in place. “Have things really been that bad that you turned to smoking?”

Unease bubbles in your chest at the forced eye contact, knowing that all of them were staring at you with varying expressions, no doubt judging you. “I mean, I could be doing worse things…” His grip tightens on your chin, and your eyes close. “I don’t know what you want to hear! You know how I am! I was offered, said screw it and gave it a try, and figured why not. If it works for others, maybe it’ll help me, but it didn’t!”

Romance’s grip loosens enough for you to push yourself away from him. You chew on your bottom lip, immediately drawing blood, and back up enough to sit on the edge of the TV console. “It hasn’t done a damn thing but make me feel sick, frankly, it’s a miracle anyone stupid enough thinks that shit helps.”

“You thought it’d help.”

“No, I said I gave it a try to see if it did anything. I never once expected it to actually help me, little shit.”

Baby stuck out his tongue and looked at the now-crushed box of cigarettes in Mystery’s hand. “How come you don’t taste like cigarettes?” he asked, trying to lighten the mood.

You cringe at his question, looking at him in minor disgust. “Excuse me?”

His eyes roll, but the smirk doesn’t disappear. “Not like that, I meant you’re mouth. Kissing, dumbass.”

“Oh, uh…”

Romance grabbed the back of your shirt at your attempt to sneak away, as if there weren’t four other grown men capable of stopping you. “Don’t try and slink off, jagiya. Answer his question.”

“I mean, like I said, I don’t smoke that often, and it’s not like I’m smoking a whole cigarette every time. It’s just a few puffs, plus I brush my teeth afterwards.”

Jinu stood up, startling everyone briefly as he walked over to you and pulled you into his arms. “I think that’s enough questions for now…” Romance and he share a few looks, Jinu shaking his head as he finally pulls back enough to let you stare up at him. “No more smoking, if you feel like smoking, then tell one of us.” He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear and looked between the others.

Everyone shared a nod before staring expectantly at you. “Okay…”

Tensions in the room still lingered, and in an attempt to lighten the mood, Baby waved his half of the controller around. “Alright, now move your asses out of the way. I wanna get back to kicking Abby’s ass.”

“I got ahead of you, jackass!”

“Only because lover boy’s flat ass blocked the TV!”

You didn’t need to look up at Romance to know what expression quickly consumed his face, his skin briefly flickering out of the corner of your eye. “I’ll show you flat, munchkin.”

Jinu pulled you out of the way and returned to the couch, tugging you along. He ignored your curious expression and sat down. When you did not attempt to move, he pulled you onto his lap and made himself comfortable. Or as comfortable as one could get with three people arguing over a dumb game two meters away.

Mystery threw away the pack of cigarettes before taking Abby’s spot and sat beside Jinu, pulling your legs up onto his lap. His fingertips idly stroked at your ankle while you melted into Jinu’s hold, an unknown weight leaving your shoulders.

Now, a new weight fell on your shoulders. What on earth were you going to give your neighbors in apology for their loud asses?

[croquettish]

Do you think Hans feels like he's unlovable? I can't help but sometimes think about how, wherever Henry goes, he always makes new friends and is liked by the general public. He had loving parents and dear friends growing up, and, although distant, Radzig clearly loves and cares about him because he is his son, and not just as a pawn he can move. Hans had no loving family, his friends were just people who followed his lead because of his status, the Rattay people see him with scorn, and he doesn't seem close to the Devil Pack members. Henry loves him, sure, but I wonder if Hans feels cold when he thinks about himself in the eyes of others. When he looks at Henry and sees how he's embraced and cherished by so many.

Anon, I literally saw this ask and immediately went "yes, yes, and yes." Out loud.

Anyway, yeah! You nailed it in one! Henry is the everyman that everyone seems to like just by default. He had two dads and a mom that cared about him. Henry seems to find it easy to establish a sort of rapport with literally everyone around him while Hans finds it incredibly difficult.

I was actually talking to @tsinavar about this just earlier today. How we see this illustrated at so many different times throughout the game Hans thrives in one-on-one environments. He seeks out privacy when he goes to spend time with Enneleyn, clearly eager to trade the party (where Henry is getting along with everyone) for individual attention. He just leaves the feast at Trosky, and only tries to talk to Henry after dealing with the official formalities of speaking to the host. Here too, he seeks out something other than the party with a lot of people (where, yet again, Henry is getting along with everyone). At Suchdol we see this yet again. Hans sits off alone by himself and only talks to Godwin. He then chalks this up to there being "hardly any females in this whole damn place." But he really only ever tries to talk to the one person he already knows and feels comfortable around (if he wanted to get lectured, no doubt Hanush would have made for an excellent candidate).

You mentioned the Devil's Pack, people that Hans ends up spending a relatively long time with. Here too he doesn't really try to reach out. They don't reach out to him, and that's that. Because even if he's not willing to admit it to himself or view it in this light, Hans is remarkably shy. It's an unbecoming quality for a noble, and he tries to cover it up with false bravado and ego at all turns, but no, he really is genuinely quite shy. Henry was able to overcome this by literally being forced on Hans, and then the mortal peril brought them yet closer together. You could also argue that Hans decided to make the best of a bad situation, but this sort of thing is unlikely to happen with anyone else he encounters.

So he's just left to watch as Henry finds friends left and right. There's no doubt in my mind that that hurts a good bit, not just because he wishes that was him (I don't think he necessarily does tbh), but because that means Henry's attention is split.

And yet, Henry can reassure him in the romance on this very point:

Hans is the closest friend Henry has. If he has nothing and no one else, he at least has that.

[localcoffeeshop]

the case for alphys in deltarune

Alphys is so important and unique in undertale. she’s the royal scientist, a (initially self-serving) ally to frisk, and the focal point of the True Lab; her experiments on determination led to Flowey’s very existence, among their other impacts in the Underground. her arc is such a gratifying part of undertale and yet she's been so relegated to the periphery in deltarune. she's just a... regular, run of the mill teacher? which is fine? but? huh?

she’s exceptionally irrelevant to the dark worlds compared to everyone else. other characters have been the source of great speculation for good reason, or at least, we’ve seen hints of their relevance. both Asgore and Toriel are tied to the Dess conspiracy, Undyne is missing in the bunker, sans is… sans, Papyrus is suspiciously and increasingly absent, and Mettaton is the subject of a number of references in the Dark World, the least of which being the spamton NEO body that he drew on the Library computer. Alphys’ greatest relevance at first glance, meanwhile, is probably having been the one to tell Kris & Susie to go get the chalk.

that's not enough for me, so i want to make the argument here that Alphys’ peripherality to the narrative is suspicious and intentionally overlooked, and that there’s going to be more than meets the eye happening as the story unfolds. this is a long one sorry ^-^

let's go over what we know about Alphys in Deltarune. We know she’s the teacher for the high school class in Hometown. and we’ve seen that she’s not especially good at it. firstly, Alphys isn’t very mature and can't seem to separate her hobbies, interests, and obsessions from the obligations of her job as a high school teacher.

she really wants to come across as the cool teacher and is terrified of doing or saying anything that would make her students dislike her (which obviously isn't working). she does try to look out for kris, but ultimately, she's terrified of taking risks. despite her concerns, she keeps trying to act like more of a “teen on their level” than an authority figure who’s supposed to be preparing them for their future. 

This makes sense with who Alphys has always been. she’s always been shy, insecure, and nerdy. being a scientist in Undertale made sense for her, even if she lied, because she could keep to herself and hole up in her lab. teaching, meanwhile, is a job that requires you to be able to tolerate dissent and contempt, to lead, and to act with confidence... and Alphys hid from grieving families because she was overwhelmed when the determination experiments went wrong and couldn’t bear the idea of telling them what happened to their loved ones. of course, that reaction makes sense. that's a manifestation of guilt and anxiety. but it’s indicative of Alphys’ inherently avoidant nature that she has to overcome in Undertale.

even if Alphys’ anxiety in Deltarune hasn’t been exacerbated by trauma to the degree that it was in Undertale, it’s still clear that her baseline mode is socially anxious, conflict-avoidant, and insecure. to that end, none of Alphys’ strengths, other than the fact that she’s smart, are on display in a classroom setting … but ALL of her weaknesses are. 

so why is she a teacher?? scientists exist in the real world!! one might argue that this is a limitation of the small town setting in Deltarune. Alphys lives in Hometown, therefore she is limited to the jobs that you would work in a small town. which could be an explanation, but in chapter 4, Alphys says she moved to Hometown. so she came to town from somewhere else for... some reason...

and whatever her plan for work was coming in, we also know Toriel actually got Alphys the job, according to the mayor's secretary in chapter 1 (who apparently expects a student to come in complaining about her...?). Toriel's constant checking-in on Alphys and asking Alphys if Kris has been acting strange is contextualized by this. Alphys probably sees herself not as Toriel's equal, but as a beneficiary of Toriel's kindness as long as she keeps an close eye on Kris...

The narrative is setting up Alphys as a questionable teacher, and this is especially noticeable in chapter 4.

chapter 4 thematic relevance

the mentor-student dynamic between susie and gerson in the dark world is, despite its brevity, one of the most significant and transformational relationships of Susie’s entire life. Gerson breaks through Susie’s walls and teaches Susie to cultivate her skills and take risks. He wants her to work on her healing rather than accept her limits being “hurting people magic”, in her words, and he incentivizes her growth in the secret boss fight. Gerson brings out the best in Susie.

this same chapter, Susie tells a story of being told by adults around her not to play a public piano, because she “just looked like [she] shouldn't be playing” it. By profiling her, they taught her to believe, as she tells kris in chapter 1, that “no one can choose who they are in this world.” Nobody would believe she could be anything other than what they assumed she already was, so she would accept that she wouldn’t be. she learned to put up a facade and play the role of a troublemaker. even in a town of other monsters, she's maligned; others take Susie’s facade at face value. unfortunately, Alphys is one of these people.

in the chapter 4 juice combo interaction, which is mandatory to progress through the game, Alphys’ assumption is immediately undermined for a reason. she’s not just wrong about Susie, but she’s participated in the same line of thinking and judgement as the piano incident. Toby Fox wants us, the players, to know that Susie’s teacher was assuming the worst of her in the same chapter where Susie will soon gain a really productive teacher figure in her life and where Susie will confront, again, the lines of thinking that made her feel like she was less-than. this sticks out and stings when susie tells gerson:

it’s quite bittersweet. because Alphys is her teacher, but Gerson is the first person to make her feel like she’s not stupid. 

(and it could be said that Susie doesn’t necessarily help her case: in both chapter 2 and 4, she refuses to even interact with Alphys. Alphys is the only character Susie actively avoids talking to and that likely stems from Susie’s own negative experiences with teachers and her own assumptions about Alphys. this is a challenge for Alphys… but she is Susie’s teacher. Gerson found a way to get through to Susie even when she wanted nothing to do with him initially. that is the expectation on Alphys as Susie’s teacher. So where does she go from here?)

there is space for Undertale OGs to experience development, growth, and change in this story. for Kris’ sake, we have to hope both Toriel and Asgore will grow as people, of course. and we’ve seen that Tenna is acting as a catalyst for Mettaton’s gender expression (which is interesting, because that was originally really tied to his friendship with Alphys). and Undyne had previously complained about how boring her job as a police officer was, and now she certainly will not be saying that….........

and ultimately, if Deltarune is thematically a story in part about escapism, fantasy, and fiction - no other character in Undertale relied so heavily on the comforts of fiction as Alphys: her fixation on Mew Mew Kissy Cutie comes up in both games. the wholesomeness of the first Mew Mew brings Alphys so much comfort in Undertale because she feels so much guilt and dread about the experiments... when it comes to escapism, she might be the reigning champion of Undertale and it would be wild if Deltarune didn’t do anything with that.

alphys the successor

moreover,  Alphys being Gerson’s successor in Deltarune directly parallels her being Gaster's successor in Undertale (Gerson mirrors Gaster in a couple ways...) And just as Father Alvin says that it’s difficult for Alphys as Gerson’s replacement, the goners compare Alphys to Gaster

now, to Alphys’ credit, I think that she is a really genuinely talented scientist, and we simply don’t have enough evidence to compare her to Gaster because of course Gaster’s followers are going to hype him up in comparison to her. the only reason we know to take Alvin seriously is because we’ve seen he was right, otherwise it’d just come across like him having a bias towards his own father.

the point being, Alphys is also connected to Gaster. this connection should be taken as significant, especially if we’re to assume she knew him (which for a long time was what people assumed based on entry 17... which could be an entire other can of worms)

and how she knew sans, too. the fact that sans keeps Alphys' secret about the true lab and the amalgamates indicates the strength of their friendship. if the "sans in undertale = sans in deltarune" theory is correct, it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to conclude that if anyone else KNOWS about that, it'd be UT!Alphys. especially when she's studied alternate universes and it seems she's even aware of the player...

by the way, Alphys is way more observant than she gets credit for

the last major point i want to return to here is back in Deltarune, actually.

For example, she’s INCREDIBLY observant to the happenings of Hometown surrounding Undyne. in chapter 2, she identifies the uselessness of the police force and then immediately speculates on the mayor’s intentions. she does a similar thing in chapter 4 where she talks about the shelter with suspicion and fear. she immediately manages to pick up on something incredibly abnormal going on in regards to the shelter, and that undyne and the mayor have gone over to the bunker...

both times, Alphys has gone “makes me wonder…” and then speculated about something of incredible significance to the conspiracy in this town. We know now the police force was mostly for show, with the exception of whatever Undyne’s responsibilities were regarding the bunker, and that perhaps that’s all tied to the “police sacrifice” that’s supposed to happen next week. we know there IS something in the bunker - the knight, eram, friend - SOME matter of threat.

but as far as she knows, there’s no such thing as dark worlds. she lives in a reality similar to our own in her day-to-day life and yet she feels that there is a something in the bunker that is dangerous. she's that locked in.

(perhaps there's something to be said about FRIEND looking suspiciously like Endogeny in early chapter 3...)

all in all that's all i have to say about alphys thus far. personally i'm sad that she doesn't know mettaton yet... i guess she knows asgore though? And he likes mew mew kissy cutie 2? Put a pin in that?

but really, while i don't have any clear sense of the direction deltarune is going to take with Alphys, i feel that she's been such an important character to undertale and even to the staging of deltarune itself. i think there's so many clues that she's going to be relevant to the upcoming happenings, they've just all been so easy to miss with everything else going on. there's so much talk about how sans connects the two games, for example, and i think Alphys essentially will complete that picture for me somehow. we'll see what happens from here on out but at least i've staked my claim in the #ALWAYSBETONALPHYS movement this early in....

and by the way i was kind of mean to her in this post so i just want to say I LOVE ALPHYS!!! I <3 COMPLEX FEMALE CHARACTERS!!!!

[gamerphobe]

op turned off reblogs so the correction i made cant be reblogged, so im making a new post, mostly just repeating what i said. tl;dr:

google docs is not randomly deleting peoples work for being nsfw. there is no evidence at all that you are at risk of having google delete your fics for having "inappropriate" content.

this article by the wired is the only "source" op has ever provided. i would very very much recommend both reading the entire article and looking at the linked posts in it for yourself. it is also self-admittedly the only source they've ever found - so keep that in mind. it's about k. renee, an open door romance novelist who had her work restricted by google. "open door romance" refers to works where sex scenes happen on screens and are described in detail. they are explicit works. the article talks about similar things happening to a few different authors who write in the same genre.

the incidents described in this article happened in march 2024, which is over a year ago.

those affected had their works restricted, with a warning message. they were not abruptly deleted out of no where. authors were able to file appeals with google to recover their docs, though i havent found any updates on if they were successful in doing so.

the reason this happened is because google docs incorrectly flagged the shared documents as spam.

That author later posted a video to Instagram explaining that it wasn’t the adult content in the files but rather “Google thought I was spamming people.” Apparently, sending the same doc to scores of people—for example, alpha and beta readers—can make it appear as though the doc was unsolicited.

sharing a document that contains "adult content" with a lot of people will trigger google's automod, but the adult content itself is not the problem. if you are sharing a doc with a handful of people, or arent sharing it at all, this is not going to happen. from my own personal testimony, i have dozens and dozens of explicit, nsfw work in my google docs that ive shared with people, and none of them have been touched. i have not seen a single claim with proof that anyone's work has been deleted in the manner the original op describes.

there is no source at all for original op's claim that google is "using AI to find inappropriate and problematic content". in the above article (again, the only source), ai is mentioned once, to say that k. renee had ai functions turned off and did not think that was the problem.

Renee hadn’t turned on any of the AI functions in Google Workspace, so she doubted it could be chalked up to a bot banning her books. After all, a 2016 paper coauthored by Google researchers revealed that its recurrent neural network language models had been fed thousands of romances. If for some reason a bot was crawling her work, wouldn’t it recognize what it was looking at?

and, lets just think logically for a moment. if google docs was doing some sort of mass cleans of nsfw content using ai, dont you think it would be a more widespread story? would it be this hard to find sources and testimony about it? google docs has literally millions of users, including published authors and scientists and academics. if an ai bot was crawling works and deleting any it deemed nsfw, it would be mainstream news because it would be affecting countless people. and especially without disclosing a change in policy beforehand? they would probably get sued for it!

i am not making this post in defense of google, god forbid. google is open about the fact that they use any "publicly available" information to train their ai models (and did get sued for it), though they claim that they dont take from docs that they dont have permission to. i honestly, genuinely, cannot tell you the veracity of these claims or how serious the scraping is. like, i just do not know if google scrapes from private gdocs. if someone knows more and has better sources they are free to add on to the post.

but i want it to be clear that google docs is not going to randomly delete your works for having nsfw content. docs and pages disappear sometimes because google docs is a mess. you should always back up your files locally (switching to programs like ellipsus doesnt make your work safer, per se, as ellipsus is still cloud-based), and you should consider switching away from google docs if youre staunchly anti-ai, but they are not going to abruptly explode all your fics. that is simply not happening. you do not have to panic.

[ilostmygenderalongwithmydignity]

So while reading this 10/10 post, I got caught up on one of the tags saying that Alfred will still dump bodies in the nearby lake when someone annoys him enough, which is funny as fuck, but it made me think about the possibility of Alfred having his own persona that none of the Bats know about. Idk what it would be called, obviously not Agent A or Penny-One, but his MO is basically “this guy sucks, so I shot him and now he’s disappeared. You’re welcome”

Anyway, he does his absolute best to stay under the radar, but he has at least a few contacts in the city, so when Jason comes back, they cross paths. Idk where I’m going with this, but the two of them in their “fuck you, die” personae working together on something without realizing who the other one is? Impeccable. If they’re both like “haha, you remind me of someone I used to know”? Even better. Maybe it’s revealed at the end of whatever more serious case they end up working together on, or maybe after Red Hood is revealed to be Jason Alfred accidentally slips and references something only the two of them know, but whatever the case it definitely causes that Spider-Man pointing meme to occur.

[shoot-i-messed-up]

…ngl the Ilana & Rick dynamic was more interesting before they fucked

[kaleidowl]

i only like jerk when it's unrequited it's soooooo good and no one else seems to get ittttttt

[fandomfuntimem]

Dp x dc: batshit crazy driver au.

Bruce hired a new personal driver for the Wayne's. He was a nice enough guy. His grades weren't great, but he was a great driver and very patient. Like, really patient. Like, he is so unbothered by traffic, stupid drivers, and villain attacks, its kinda scary. But all the background checks came back clean. Minus his mad scientists parents, of course.

Daniel (Danny) Fenton. He could relate to any of the Wayne kids and hold an intelligent conversation with Bruce. Bruce feels that he doesn't need to be all Brucie Wayne around the young man. He doesn't know about their nightly activities yet, though. They're not quite sure if he even needs to know.

The first sign there was something more to Danny happened when Tim was sitting in the passenger seat. Tim was struggling with a math problem. It was driving him nuts. It only took a quick glance for Daniel to solve it, though, "it's thirty-six"

"What?"

"The answer is Thirty-six. You forgot to carry the three."

"Huh..."

He was right, Tim made a simple mistake, sure. But that was advanced college level math. Danny was a straight c student and never went to college. It only took him a momentary glance to solve it. Tim, though suspicious, chalked it up to a simple case of gifted kid syndrome. He related to it and began to consult with Danny on some of his math problems. Danny was more than happy to help, for a price, of course.

Then, there was a villain attack. The villain's goons ran rampant through the city, terrorizing anyone unfortunate enough to be outside at the time. But not Danny, they'll tried, oooh they tried. But those goons swiftly found themselves zip tied, in the trunk of a car, and on their way to jail. All while Danny blasted some music by a small artist named 'Ember'.

Alright. He is in Gotham, and his mother was a black belt, so maybe he was just well trained. Its good to know how to deffend yourself.

Then, Damien was kidnapped. It was so fast they barely saw, but a white van sped by and grabbed Damien as he made his way tawords the car. Initially, Damien expected the chauffeur to panic and call the police. But when shouting and cursing were heard from the front seat, and the men in the back slipped the van door open to check behind them, it was revealed Danny had followed them and he had a gun.

What could only be described as an action movie chase scene ensued. Every corner they swerved, every shortcut they took, Danny was right behind them. Driving like a bat out of hell, he shouted and fired at the wheels of the van. Knocking one out, the van swerved and was forced to come to a stop.

A kidnapper grabbed Damien by the hair and held a gun to his head, but before the threat could even leave his mouth a bullet flew through his hand. He dropped Damien and fell to the ground screaming, clutching his hand.

The kidnapper in the van already took off running but was swiftly stopped by Redhood arriving just in time to see Danny helping Damien up and checking him over, profusely apologizing for "letting this happen."

When asked why he did all of it, his simply answered, "I don't think I would get paid if I let Mr. Wayne's kid die! I can't let a kid die in general!"

Bruce, of course, gave the young man a bonus and a few days off for the stunt. Accompanied wlth a few stern words about safety. What was truly remarkable was that there was not a single scratch on the car. Untouched, meaning he never hit anything during the whole ordeal. "I just learned what not to do from my dad!" He joked, but Bruce felt that, despite the clear joking tone, there was some truth to the statement.

The family is suspicious, very suspicious. The man they previously viewed as their simple and humble driver turned out to be a monster of a fighter, and they have no idea how or why.

----------------------‐------

A/N: Feel free to add onto this in any way you would like :3

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

rationally, pursuing a diagnosis is the way to go because it’s been over three years and i cannot keep living like this. however, it scares the shit out of me and everything i see about what they could potentially decide for treatment makes me start to panic

[thatgirlonstage]

You desperately need a ‘sometimes’ or ‘it depends’ button on here. People’s skill with language and comfort with text/internet-specific speech styles can vary dramatically. Anyone answering an unqualified yes on this poll: I can almost promise you are less able to do this than you think you are.

For native English speakers:

When you see a person interacting online through texts, can you tell if they are native English speakers or not?

- Yes

- No

- Not a native English speaker

[carnalcrows]

EYES ON ME

pairing: jinu x male reader

synopsis: It was supposed to be just another street performance—the SAJA Boys running through “Soda Pop,” crowds screaming, cameras flashing. You were busy managing sound checks and soda cans, not flirting. But then Mira from Huntrix showed up. You helped her with a charm, she smiled, and Jinu saw the whole thing. He didn’t say a word. Not until later—when the van emptied out and he finally had you alone. Now he’s got his hands on you, his name in your mouth, and one goal in mind: remind you exactly who you belong to.

content warnings: 18+, smut, jealousy, possessive behavior, bottom male reader, rough sex, oral (reader receiving), marking, light restraint (pinning hands), cream pie, slight degradation/praise mix, power imbalance (idol/manager), implied size kink, fast-paced encounter in a semi-public setting (merch van).

word count: 1.2k [req]

The crowd’s loud, the boys are louder, and you’re two seconds away from stapling someone’s charm mic to their shirt yourself.

Somewhere between their third run of “Soda Pop” and the camera crew asking for just one more shot, you’re juggling half the sound team, two open energy drink cans, and a makeup stylist yelling at you about sweat on Abby’s nose. And Jinu? Jinu’s off to the side pretending he’s not watching you—but he is.

He always is.

You chalk it up to being SAJA’s manager. You’re supposed to be everywhere. Suppose it makes sense that his eyes are always tracking you, even when he’s catching his breath between takes. Especially when he thinks you’re not looking.

You catch Mira’s eye across the crowd.

She’s leaning against a tree like she just “happened” to be passing through. Sunglasses on. Bun too tight. That very specific Huntrix kind of bored that always hides something sharper underneath. She gives you a small wave when your eyes meet, and you walk over—figuring it’s just the polite thing to do.

“You all really lean into the theme,” she says, nodding at the soda-shaped mic stand. “It’s cute.”

You laugh, rubbing the back of your neck. “Cute’s what sells.”

Her lips quirk. “Are you managing them or babysitting?”

“Both,” you admit.

She lets you fix the charm bracelet falling off her wrist. Nothing major. A simple leather cuff with an old-school sealing rune, half-charred at the edges. You tighten the strap, hand lingering maybe half a second too long before you step back.

She smiles. “Didn’t know you were so good with your hands.”

You huff. “Don’t start.”

You don’t see Jinu watching. You don’t have to. You feel it.

They wrap the shoot. You give the usual high-fives, towel passes, headcount. The boys scatter—some to vans, others to food stalls. You’re wiping spilled soda off the merch table when you hear someone clear their throat behind you.

You turn.

It’s Jinu. Still in his sleeveless fit. Hair damp. No mic now. Just that look on his face—the quiet, unreadable one he gets before a fight, or worse, before something personal.

“Didn’t know we invited Huntrix,” he says flatly.

You blink. “They weren’t on the call sheet.”

“You looked happy to see her.”

You pause. “It’s Mira.”

He steps in. Close. Too close. His voice drops a notch.

“You smiled at her like you smile at me.”

The mood changes fast. You feel it in your chest before your brain catches up—like he’s about to say something he’s been holding back for way too long. You can taste it behind your teeth. His eyes flick down your face. His fingers twitch at his sides.

You’re about to say something—something dumb, probably, something like you’re imagining things—but he moves first.

Faster than you expect. Hand at your neck, other gripping your hip, walking you backward into the merch van’s open side door.

It shuts behind you with a loud slam.

“You like making me jealous?” he says, mouth right against your jaw.

“No,” you breathe. “I didn’t even do anything—”

“You touched her.”

“Her bracelet—”

“You smiled.”

You open your mouth again. He shuts you up with his hand sliding under your waistband and squeezing.

“Jinu—fuck—”

“Don’t care.” He growls. “You’re mine.”

His mouth crashes into yours like he’s been waiting weeks to do it.

Hot, rough, a little too eager for someone who’s usually all calm and composed. His hands are already dragging under your shirt, palms flat against your stomach, like he’s checking to make sure you’re real. You gasp into it, and he smirks against your lips like he owns the sound.

You try to speak again. He doesn’t let you.

One hand shoves your jaw up. The other drops low, cupping you through your pants—fingers curling, slow and confident—and your brain shorts out for a second.

You twitch. He chuckles.

“Sensitive?” he murmurs. “Knew you would be.”

You should stop him. Should say something about professionalism or boundaries or literally anything other than "fuck," which is the only thing that makes it out of your mouth when he palms you harder.

His teeth scrape your throat. "Yeah. That’s what I thought."

He backs you into the van wall, hands everywhere—gripping, pulling, undoing your belt like it’s routine. You're not sure when you ended up flat on your back on a pile of spare SAJA hoodies, but by the time his mouth is on your neck, you’re already breathless and half-naked.

You’re half-naked before you even realize what’s happening. Your shirt’s gone. Your belt’s loose. Your legs are open and he’s between them, looking down like this is the real stage and you’re the performance.

“Jinu—”

“You’ve been looking at everyone but me,” he says, thumbing your waistband down, “but you’re the one who's been on my mind since day one.”

His eyes flick up, locking with yours.

“So now you’re gonna look at me. Just me.”

He goes down on you first. Slow. Heavy.

His tongue is hot, demon-warm, and he sucks like he wants to hollow you out. Hands on your thighs, holding you open. Holding you still. You arch, helpless, your voice a cracked gasp as his mouth works on your cock in steady, messy pulls.

You try to move. He pushes you back down.

“I said, eyes on me.”

You look. You regret it instantly.

He’s staring up at you with his mouth full of your cock—lips swollen, spit slick, pupils blown—and he looks so fucking smug about it.

You come in his mouth way too fast.

He drinks it down, slowly. Licks his lips. Doesn’t break eye contact once.

Then he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and says:

“Not done with you yet.”

He flips you onto your stomach, presses you into the mat, and fucks you open like he’s been waiting for this since the day you joined the company.

His cock is thick, unrelenting, and he fucks deep—one hand pinning your wrists down above your head, the other on your waist keeping you where he wants you.

You try to muffle your sounds against your arm.

He doesn’t like that.

“Let them hear,” he pants. “Let the whole fucking building know who’s making you feel this good.”

You’re begging before you even realize it. Voice cracking. Heat building. Your whole body trembling under the way he pounds into you, pace brutal and unfair and so good it hurts.

“Jinu, please—fuck, I’m—”

He leans over, lips brushing your ear.

“You’re mine,” he growls. “Say it.”

“Yours,” you gasp. “I’m yours, I’m—fuck—”

You come again, dizzy and wrecked, pulsing hard against the floor.

He finishes a second later, buried to the hilt, grinding into you with a groan that’s pure possession. You feel it—hot, thick, spreading inside—and you collapse under him, breathing like you just ran a mile.

You don’t remember when he pulled out.

But you do remember him pulling you into his lap after, still sticky and shaking, kissing your jaw like you’re something delicate instead of the mess he just made.

You slump into his chest. Your voice is hoarse.

“…So you were jealous?”

He huffs a laugh. “You’re lucky it was just Mira.”

You pause. “What if it had been Romance?”

Jinu tightens his grip.

“Try it,” he says. “See what happens.”

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time, and I take genuine effort to do them.

Taglist: @axetivev @yyuinaa @zaynesyumei @sageofspades @onyxmango @puccigucii @the-ultimate-librarian @sooobiinn @sooniebby @i2innie @tintenka1 @timaas-blog @darlinqvi @horrorsbeyondreality @rednugget @lysanderplume @leron1108 @kauo-writez @the0ishere @calgurl @kissenturine @bleedingbl0ssom @gayaristocrat @hyppernovva [comment to be added, or send an ask]

[kateschi]

what goes unsaid

synopsis: you started to notice small things todoroki does, but you’re not sure what they mean just yet.

pairing: timeskip!todoroki shoto x f!reader

⊹ ࣪ ˖ notes: i listened to you guys

the buzz of the office fades into background noise as you shuffle through the latest batch of mission reports.

your shoulders ache from a particularly rough day in the field, and the stiffness in your neck only serves to remind you of the long hours stretching ahead.

you rub your temples, trying to stave off the impending headache.

“rough day?”

the voice pulls you from your thoughts, low and calm with a subtle edge of concern. shoto todoroki stands in the doorway to your shared agency’s common room, his presence as composed as ever.

his hero uniform is slightly scuffed, evidence of his own busy day. still, his mismatched eyes fix on you, quiet but observant.

“yeah, you could say that,” you reply with a weak smile, closing the folder in front of you. “I’ll be fine, though. just a few reports to finish up.”

without another word, todoroki crosses the room. he places a paper cup on the desk beside you, the warm aroma of your favorite coffee wafting up immediately. you blink, glancing between him and the cup.

“thought you could use this,” he says simply, his tone casual but laced with that understated sincerity that’s so distinctly him.

your lips twitch upward despite yourself. “thanks, todoroki. you didn’t have to.”

“I know,” he replies, his voice steady as he turns to leave.

it’s not the first time he’s done something like this—little gestures that seem small on the surface but hold a surprising amount of thoughtfulness.

you’ve chalked it up to his polite nature, the way he’s always been one to notice when someone needs a hand.

but lately, those gestures seem to happen more often, and each time they do, you can’t help but wonder if there’s more behind them.

a few days later, the intensity of the work begins to weigh on you again. a gruelling mission left you feeling physically and emotionally drained, and your muscles protest every movement you make.

you collapse on the couch in the break room, still in your hero gear, too tired to even think about a shower.

todoroki walks in, fresh from the shower, his damp hair sticking to his forehead. he eyes you for a moment before disappearing into the adjacent kitchenette.

you don’t think much of it until he returns a few minutes later, setting a small ice pack on the table beside you.

“for your shoulder,” he says, nodding toward where you’d been absentmindedly massaging your arm.

you blink, caught off guard by the quiet care in the gesture. “oh, thanks. you didn’t—”

“you overextend that side sometimes,” he interrupts, his voice calm. “you should be careful.”

your mouth opens, but no words come out. instead, you nod, pressing the ice pack against your shoulder as he sits in the chair across from you. the silence that follows is surprisingly comfortable.

you can feel the weight of his gaze occasionally flicking over to you, but it’s not heavy or demanding—more like a quiet understanding, the kind that doesn’t require explanation.

there’s a certain ease between you two, even when neither of you says much.

it’s in the way todoroki always seems to anticipate what you need, how he quietly adjusts the environment around you without ever making a show of it. and for reasons you can’t fully explain, it feels…right.

the moments continue to add up, each one more subtle than the last.

after a long patrol, you find a bottle of water placed carefully on your desk with a note—drink up, you’ve been dehydrated all day.

it’s an obvious thing, but the gesture still feels personal, like he noticed something you hadn’t even considered.

the next day, you’re struggling to get through a particularly difficult set of paperwork when your phone buzzes on the table. you glance at the screen to see a message from him: how’s the report going? 

you smirk at the simplicity of it. he knew exactly what you were doing.

when you reply that you’re about to hit a wall, todoroki doesn’t respond immediately.

but later, when you make your way into the break room for a quick break, there’s a sandwich on the counter—your favorite kind, carefully wrapped in a napkin.

no note this time, just the quiet understanding that he had noticed, even from across the building.

it’s when you’re sitting on the rooftop of the agency a few weeks later that the weight of it all really hits you. the city sprawls out before you, the lights twinkling against the night sky.

you’re lost in your thoughts when the sound of footsteps pulls you back.

todoroki appears at your side, a familiar calmness in his expression. he doesn’t say anything right away, just leans against the railing beside you.

the silence between you is surprisingly comfortable, the kind that doesn’t demand to be filled. you’ve shared enough of these moments that you don’t feel the need to say anything.

“figured you’d be up here,” he says eventually, his gaze still fixed on the horizon.

you glance at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “needed a breather. what about you?”

“same,” he admits. “it’s been a long day.”

there’s something in his voice, a small shift, and for the first time, you realize just how much of an emotional weight he carries.

you’ve always known him to be calm, calculated, and collected, but there’s something more underneath, a pressure he doesn’t always show.

when he looks at you now, there’s something in his eyes—something softer, more open than usual.

“thanks for the coffee earlier,” you say, breaking the silence. “and…everything else. you don’t have to do all that, you know.”

he turns his head slightly, his gaze meeting yours. there’s a flicker of something in his expression, a subtle, almost imperceptible shift. “I know,” he says simply. “but I want to.”

his words hang in the air, quieter and more vulnerable than usual, and for the first time, you see the full weight of what he’s been doing all along.

these small gestures, these little acts of kindness, have been his way of showing something he’s never been able to put into words.

weeks pass, and despite everything happening around you—missions, deadlines, late-night training—there’s a steady rhythm to the way shoto treats you.

he’s never one to speak loudly about his emotions, but the small things he does start to stand out in a way that feels undeniable.

there are days when you catch him looking at you from across the room, his expression slightly more intense than usual.

he doesn’t say anything, but you notice the way his eyes linger a little longer than they should, as if he’s trying to figure something out.

he’s quiet around you, often lost in his thoughts, but when he speaks, it’s always with a softness that’s impossible to ignore.

it’s as if every word he says carries the weight of more than just friendship—though, he’ll never admit it outright.

it’s late one evening when the two of you find yourselves standing side by side in the agency’s common room.

the glow of the lights is soft, the building nearly empty after the day’s work. you’re both exhausted, but neither of you is quite ready to head home.

shoto hands you a fresh towel as you come out of the shower, his movements slow and deliberate. you notice how carefully he looks after even the smallest details:

making sure the towel’s warm and that the temperature in the room is just right.

you take it from him with a soft smile. “you’ve been really nice to me lately.”

shoto pauses, his eyes flicking to yours. there’s an emotion there you can’t quite place, something quiet and unspoken.

“I don’t mind,” he says, his voice steady. “I want to.”

the words hit you harder than you expect, and for a moment, you’re both silent, the air between you charged with something that hasn’t been said aloud but feels clear all the same.

you’ve always known shoto in pieces—quiet, introspective, deeply caring in his own way—but this is different. this is more.

when you step closer, your heart thumping louder than it should, he doesn’t pull away.

instead, he looks down at you, his mismatched eyes soft with something that’s not quite a confession but feels like one all the same.

“I’ve always wanted to be there for you,” he adds quietly, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. “I just…couldn’t figure out how.”

the quiet honesty of it leaves you breathless, and for a moment, you let the words come freely.

“you’re doing it, shoto,” you say. “you’ve been doing it.”

before either of you can say another word, the space between you seems to shrink of its own accord.

his gaze lingers on yours, and there’s a long moment of quiet before you close the small gap, your breath mingling with his.

his hand lifts, brushing against your cheek, and it’s the gentlest touch, but it sends a warmth through you that settles deep in your chest. without a word, he leans in.

and when his lips meet yours, it’s not forceful, nor is it rushed—it’s as natural as everything else that’s happened between you.

when you pull back, there’s a soft smile on his lips, a look of quiet satisfaction as he rests his forehead against yours.

“guess this makes it official,” you chuckle.

he hums, “yeah.”

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[f-aengel]

date everything x reader - thinking about date everything where the house owner struggles with mental health. (tw for self harm, descriptions of depression and agoraphobia below the cut. brief mentions of not eating enough. it's not really comfort, but more of a commentary).

pre-dateviators until the end! part 2 here (the actual comfort) ♡

it's kinda already canon that the home owner doesn't leave/barely leaves their house, so branching off of that, think about how the dateables would feel if you, the home owner, had social anxiety, depression or agoraphobia so bad you can't leave the house.

like,, all the downstairs objects wondering why they only see you once a day, when you come to get food. freddy, mitchell, luke and friar errol noticing that you rarely eat, rarely use them - instead, opting for pre packaged foods because you don't have the energy to cook. stefan feels especially sad, because you never use the stove at all - when you do cook, it's food thrown in the airfryer or microwave.

harper is rarely used, rarely gets to see dirk, and dirk himself rarely gets to be clarence. he stays dirk, but on your bedroom floor, as you wear and discard clothes whilst being too demotivated to wash them. when you finally do, it takes two trips, and it's the first time washford and drysdale get to see you in weeks. harper doesn't even get to see dirk before he's in the washer.

the objects in the living room, not even seeing you at all. koa is barely ever sat on, telly never turned on, connie never played. you don't have the drive to watch the tv, play videogames, sit downstairs. the only one from the living room who sees you is mateo, when you bring him to your room when it's cold or you need comfort - that's when he finds out whats going on with you, and eventually with some coercion, ends up enlightening the other downstairs objects about your mental state.

what mateo finds, of course, is that you don't do anything whilst you're upstairs. you don't even leave the bed. betty loves you, loves that she can be your safe space, but even though she's by far the closest object to you - you spend all day in her, on her - even she can't help but worry that you spend too much time in bed. she can't help but worry that you sleep half your life away, and spend the remaining half in there, alone.

the worry in the house increases tenfold when you self harm. no matter where you do it, someone will see you. dorian, airyn, florence, and celia, always, whichever room you're in. most likely, hector, too. it pains each and every one of them when you do it - because they have to watch you. they have to watch you do it to yourself, unable to prevent it from happening.

when you reach for your first aid kit, farya can't even be happy to see and treat your injuries as she would normally. she can't be excited, because she knows why they're there, what they're from. if and when you go to wash the evidence away, amir watches you do it. being amir, he thinks you're beautiful, so it hurts him especially to see what you've done to yourself, regardless of the reason you did it (self esteem related or not). bathsheba and johnny rarely see you when you're too depressed to bathe yourself, but when they do, they see the changes to your body, the marks there that weren't before. everyone in the bathrooms usually aren't bothered by seeing you unclothed, but now, it makes them feel... sad, even though it's their jobs to see you that way.

some objects feel more useful than others. betty, because you spend your days wrapped up in her. mateo, because his softness brings you comfort and warmth. teddy, because you hug him when you're sad, and phonecia, because you spend your day scrolling on her. she interferes, sometimes - showing you heartwarming posts on social platforms, avoiding the saddest songs when you hit shuffle. you get more mental health positivity posts when you're sad, and you chalk it up to the algorithm. you don't realise there's someone hoping you get better. several people.

you don't realise, until you get the dateviators.

when you get them, you're not excited - you're scared. scared because there's a hundred new people in your house. you can't do people, your social anxiety doesn't let you, that's why you never leave, and now... there's people in your home, your safe place. people who have seen you at your worst, your very worst.

it takes you a long while to use the dateviators properly. you're terrified of everyone's opinions.

the first person you meet is dorian, who informs you there's several of him in the house, every room, so he always knows what's going on. he tells you if you ever have any problems, you can come to him - which you find odd. he seems like the stoic type, not one to care about that stuff, but he assures you he's a big believer of friendship, that you can rely on him and he'll be there. he says it so earnestly that even if there's a sinking part of you that knows he knows, and that's why he's saying it, you believe him.

your other interactions are just as earnest. some are more apparent than others, mentioning your mental health openly, whilst others don't mention it at all, but keep friendly and warm to you. some help you, and some are just there to... talk to.

it's after a short while that you realise the dateviators are helping you. the objects in your house are helping you. even though you were terrified of talking to them, talking to people helps, with the loneliness, with the anxiety.

you realise that this situation may not be the nightmare you thought it was. maybe this will help you feel better.

[moon-fics]

Pepper Spray Lovers

Pairings: Bob Floyd x Reader

Summary: You're a well-known bartender at the Hard Deck and friends with most of the pilots who enter through the doors. However, you've caught the eye of one specific weapon systems operator.

A/n: I'm going to need a break after this one. Holy shit.

It was the same every night for you. Serve drinks, clean cups, chat with pilots, and never give out your number. It was a loop that you found comforting and easy to follow. At the Hard Deck, there was a guaranteed safety with the amount of trained pilots around.

You never have to memorize names because the call signs they have are way too ridiculous to forget. They stand out, and based on their personality, you can match them easily. For Hangman, you chalk it up to him always talking to a woman at the bar, but never taking her home. For Rooster, it's because his mustache sometimes looks like a beak to a bird.

You treat each customer the same and smile when they order. You highly doubt any of them know your name, but why should they? You serve them drinks, and they pay their tab. That's all you need or want from them.

"Can I get a water?" A soft voice asks from behind you. You're cleaning a pile of cups while Penny takes orders. You aren't supposed to be bothered, but you assume Penny is busy. You can fetch some water and return back to your cleaning.

Without even looking at the person who ordered, you grab a clean cup and fill it with water from the water dispenser. You spin around and place the cup on the bar top. You only look up for a second but you immediately stop on him.

It's his smile that catches you off guard. It's almost silly how adorable a Top Gun pilot can look by just smiling. His hair is gelled back neatly, and his glasses are a little lower than where they should be.

"Thank you," He nods while taking the glass. His fingers graze yours, and you realize you're still holding the cup. Your hand flinches away automatically. "Busy night?"

You force yourself to speak because you cannot just stare at him. "Yeah, it's definitely busier than usual," You say while clearing your throat. He nods and takes a sip of his water. "There must be something huge happening for so many Top Gun pilots to be here." You glance around the room to see it practically filled with people wearing navy uniforms.

"I'd tell you if I could," He chuckles. "I'm Bob," He holds out his free hand to shake. You gladly take it, and there's a shiver that goes up your spine at how nice his arms look. Before you can respond, someone is calling him over. He gives a little wave as he parts from you.

Throughout the night, you catch him staring at you. Usually, you'd find it creepy or enough to cut him off, so he leaves. Instead, you try to catch him. It gives you some enjoyment to watch when he nervously looks away after getting caught. After a while, he understands the game and begins playing along.

--

It's closing time, and by now, everyone has left, including Penny. The beach waves are all you hear as you check the register and count the cash left over. There's still a smell of alcohol in the air, but it's mixed with salt and sunscreen.

After shutting the register and turning off the lights, you lock the doors. Right as you pull the key out, you hear rustling. No one should be out this late on base. So, either you have a wild animal nearby or someone is stalking you. Either way, it could mean trouble.

Silently and slowly, you reach for your pepper spray. You unlock the safety feature and press your thumb over the top of it. The rustling gets louder, and your body trembles from anxiety.

"Do you need someone to walk you to your car?" A familiar voice rings from behind you. On instinct, you swing around and aim the spray at them. "Hey, hey, wait!" The person yells while putting their hands up in surrender.

Your eyes adjust to the darkness to see Bob standing in front of you. You don't put the pepper spray down, but you remove your thumb from it.

"What are you doing? That was so scary!" You scold. One corner of his lips turns up in a half smile that is still charming.

"I just wanted to make sure you got home alright," He explains. He lowers his hands and puts one in his pocket. He looks concerned that you're going to spray him anyway, but you decide not to. "It's late, and I know that sometimes it can be dangerous on base." He mumbles.

"So, you waited out here for me to close up? It's been like an hour since I saw you leave the bar." You raise an eyebrow. There's no way he waited that long for you.

"I waited," He admits with a nod. You suck in your cheeks at how honest he is. It's refreshing but also a bit odd. "Sorry that I scared you. I thought you heard me walking up to you." He chuckles to himself.

"It's alright. Just, next time, announce yourself or maybe wear a bell." You smile.

He pushes his glasses up his nose, "I'll think about tying a bell around my belt next time."

"Next time?" You tease. You aren't sure what he means by it, because it could simply be a joke. You don't know if he'll be back at the bar because sometimes people show up once and never return.

He seems caught off guard by your repeating his words. "I mean, it's a popular bar. It's the best one on base, so I just assumed I'd come back," He clarifies while scratching at the top of his lip nervously.

"Would you walk me to my car every time?" His eyes practically twinkle at your question. As if your offer has brought a genuine joy inside him. "You did say it's dangerous on base at night."

"I'll walk you to your car as many times as you'd allow."

It takes longer than you expect to get home. Mostly because you're enchanted into a conversation with Bob way past curfew. Once you walk through your door, you get a sense of excitement for your next shift.

--

The music is loud, and so are the pilots. After a long day of training and sweating their asses off they've returned to the bar. Not that you mind anymore.

You get to continue your favorite game with Bob as he plays pool. Every time he makes a shot, he looks for you to see if you saw. When he gets a ball in one of the pockets, he waves. When he scratches, he talks to you until his turn again.

This continues until the end of the night, until he walks you to your car.

[sh4nksslvt]

CLINGY MUCH? | ONE SHOT

Shanks x GN!Reader

Zoro x GN!Reader

Mihawk x GN!Reader

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only so expect this ff cringe and oc

tags: sfw, fluff, soft, ooc(?)

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

SHANKS

You were many things aboard the Red Force—calm, sharp-tongued, and painfully unbothered by Shanks’ endless antics.

You were also completely unaware of the fact that the most feared (and flirted-with) captain in the New World couldn’t seem to stop touching you.

Not in a creepy way. Not even in a romantic way… at least, not that you noticed.

He’d toss an arm around your shoulders like it was a habit. Rest his hand on your waist when laughing. Tug you into his side when something “dangerous” happened, like a slightly aggressive breeze or a seagull flying too low.

You just chalked it up to him being Shanks.

Until, one bright morning, the crew decided enough was enough.

It started with Benn Beckman sighing dramatically as he walked onto the deck.

“Do you two need a room or something?”

You blinked from where you stood, arms crossed. “We’re not even doing anything.”

Benn pointed. “His hand has been on your lower back for ten minutes.”

Shanks blinked down at his own hand like it betrayed him. “Huh. Didn’t even notice.”

You raised a brow. “Are you okay? Do you have tactile issues?”

Lucky Roux snorted as he passed by with a turkey leg. “Yeah, it’s called ‘falling for someone and not knowing what to do with your hands.’”

Shanks turned red. You remained… utterly unaffected.

“Touch-starved pirate disease,” Lime Juice muttered, jotting fake notes like a doctor. “Tragic. Symptoms include: prolonged physical contact, excessive grinning, and spontaneous cuddling in public.”

Hongo popped his head out of the crow’s nest. “I saw him brush your hair behind your ear during the storm last week.”

“That was because it got in their face,” Shanks defended.

You nodded. “He didn’t want me to get stabbed by my own bangs. Very heroic.”

“You’re wearing a braid,” Yasopp called from the helm.

A long pause.

“…Okay, I’m not good with excuses,” Shanks muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. His hand bumped yours in the process.

You tilted your head, eyes narrowing. “Captain.”

“Yes?”

“You’re touching me again.”

“...I genuinely didn’t notice DAHAHAHA.”

The crew erupted into laughter.

You blinked slowly and glanced down at your joined hands, then back up at him. “You’ve been holding my hand for a minute now. You good?”

“Maybe.”

You stared.

He stared.

“…You’re kinda warm,” he added, grinning.

“I’m wearing gloves.”

“Exactly. Impressive.”

You didn’t smile, but your voice was flat with dry humor. “You wanna marry me, too? Get it over with?”

Shanks choked. “Whoa—what?”

“You’re already touching me like I’m your lover. Might as well commit.”

The crew howled.

“I’m starting to like them more than you, Cap,” Benn said, lighting a cigar.

“They’ve got more bite,” Lime Juice grinned.

Lucky Roux offered you a celebratory turkey leg like a sword. “You just proposed better than he ever could.”

You calmly took it, giving a single nod. “Thanks. I accept my own proposal.”

Shanks was still frozen. “Wait, are we actually engaged now?”

You took a slow bite of the turkey leg, deadpan. “Keep touching me like that, and you’ll owe me alimony.”

ZORO

You were minding your own business—arms crossed, eyes half-lidded, back leaned slightly against the Sunny’s railing—when a familiar weight thunked into your side.

Again.

You didn’t flinch, didn’t glance, didn’t even blink. Just spoke.

“Zoro.”

“What.”

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what.”

“Treating me like a living chair.”

He grunted. “You’re stable. And not annoying.”

“That’s a compliment?” you asked, still deadpan.

“Take it or leave it.”

The crew had noticed. Of course they had. This was the sixth day in a row Zoro had casually latched onto you like a sleepy barnacle.

“Oi, mosshead!” Sanji snapped, appearing from the galley with smoke swirling and a righteous fury in his eyes. “Get off them, you clingy cucumber!”

Zoro cracked open an eye. “Make me.”

“Oh, I will!” Sanji stomped over dramatically. “Y/N-chwaann shouldn’t have to carry your freeloading swordsman body weight! If anyone deserves to be close to them, it’s me!”

You raised an eyebrow. “You literally tripped into my lap yesterday trying to ‘tie your shoe.’ You were barefoot.”

“It was a metaphor!” Sanji cried. “For falling head over heels!”

Zoro scoffed. “That was the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Says the mossy limpet glued to their side like a touchy fungus!”

Zoro didn’t move. “Jealousy’s not a good look, curly.”

“You—!!”

“Guys,” Nami sighed, “can’t we go one day without turning affection into a shouting match?”

Brook leaned on his cane, chuckling. “Yohohoho! Young love… or something!”

Usopp squinted. “Wait. Has Zoro always been this clingy with Y/N?”

Robin smiled mysteriously. “Since thriller bark, at least.”

Franky nodded solemnly. “Saw him fall asleep on their shoulder mid-battle once. SUPER unconscious.”

“I thought he was dead,” Chopper added, horrified. “Turns out he was just really comfy.”

Zoro’s grip on your shoulder tightened very slightly, and you finally glanced sideways at him.

“Do you know you’re this touchy?” you asked.

He looked like he wanted to evaporate into the deck. “I… just don’t mind you being close.”

You blinked slowly. “Is that samurai code for ‘I like you’?”

Sanji audibly gagged. “Oi! Don’t flirt in front of me!”

“We’re not flirting,” you said.

Zoro mumbled, “Might be.”

Sanji died inside.

“Y/N-chwann” he said gravely, dropping to one knee. “I beg of you—pick me instead! I would never lean on you like a sweaty tree log!”

Zoro growled. “Because you’d faint from being close.”

“AT LEAST I’D DIE HANDSOME!”

You looked between the two of them and sighed.

“I just want to drink my tea without being fought over,” you muttered, walking off—Zoro immediately following, like a shadow with swords.

“You’re still touching me,” you noted.

“Didn’t say I’d stop,” he replied casually.

You stopped walking, turned, and looked him square in the eye.

“You’re aware this is very couple-coded, right?”

He blinked, then grunted. “Guess we should make it official then.”

You blinked right back. “That was fast.”

“Why waste time.”

You smirked just a little. “Romantic.”

He shrugged. “You’re warm. And you don’t talk too much.”

“That’s your idea of a proposal?”

“Worked, didn’t it?”

From behind you, Sanji dramatically screamed into the ocean.

MIHAWK

Kuraigana Island was a wasteland of stone, wind, and uncomfortable silences. You didn’t mind. You were the type to thrive in eerie places — quiet, observant, and allergic to nonsense.

Which is probably why Mihawk didn’t bother with small talk.

Or... so you thought.

Lately, the world’s greatest swordsman had developed a habit of materializing wherever you were. You’d be cleaning a blade — and there he was, pouring tea. You’d sit on the crumbling stone wall for some air — and there he’d be, suddenly trimming the overgrown vines right next to you.

At first, you thought it was coincidence.

Until today.

“...You know you don’t have to sharpen every one of my knives,” you said flatly, watching him work silently at the bench beside you.

“I didn’t,” Mihawk replied, still honing the blade. “Only the dull ones.”

You blinked. “That was my butter knife.”

“Then it was very dull.”

From the far side of the ruins, Zoro grunted as he finished a set of squats. “He refilled their canteen twice this morning.”

“Once,” Mihawk corrected, still not looking up.

“Twice,” Zoro insisted. “Once after breakfast. Then again after they just looked at the sink.”

Perona floated down with a snort. “He also folded their coat. While they were still wearing it.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Wait. Is that why my sleeves were shorter for a second?”

“You had a wrinkle.”

“I always have a wrinkle.”

Mihawk looked up with that unreadable expression. “And now you don’t.”

Zoro huffed. “What even is this? He acts like a butler. But like, a scary one.”

Mihawk narrowed his eyes at him. “I’m not a butler.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Perona muttered, arms crossed. “You fixed the strap on their satchel too.”

Mihawk didn’t respond to that.

Perona raised a brow. “You gonna deny it?”

“No,” Mihawk said coolly, “because it was crooked.”

Zoro leaned against a stone pillar, towel around his neck. “He also moved your seat at the dining table.”

“That was my seat,” you said.

Mihawk finally gave you a long, side glance. “You’ve sat on the left for the past four mornings. I simply ensured it remained consistent.”

You deadpanned. “You rearranged the furniture.”

“Briefly.”

Zoro stared. “And when they tripped over that vine—”

“I cut the vine before they fell,” Mihawk snapped with a tone just shy of defensive.

“Bro. You lunged across the courtyard.”

Mihawk sipped his wine calmly. “It was in the way.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And when you pulled me by the hood into the shade the other day?”

“You were overheating.”

“I wasn’t sweating.”

“You were blinking slowly.”

You stared. “That’s just how I blink.”

There was a long pause.

Then Perona gasped. “Wait, wait — you also fixed the strap on their scabbard!”

“I adjusted it. The weight distribution was uneven.”

Zoro clapped once, grinning. “So you are clingy.”

Mihawk’s eyes narrowed, the glint in them sharp and dangerous. “I am not.”

You leaned your chin on your hand, amused. “Then what would you call this?”

He paused. “Awareness.”

Perona lost it. “You mean hyper-awareness. Of one (1) person.”

Mihawk ignored her. “It’s strategic. I simply ensure you're at your most efficient.”

“That’s not efficiency,” Zoro said, wiping his forehead. “That’s doting.”

Mihawk arched a brow. “You think a swordsman cannot be observant?”

“You folded their laundry in order of fabric weight.”

“They prefer it that way.”

You blinked. “I never said that.”

He side-eyed you, expression cool. “You didn’t need to.”

You blinked again.

Zoro grunted. “You see? He’s acting like we’re all weird for noticing.”

Perona jabbed a finger toward him. “He's totally doing the ‘if I act calm, no one will notice I'm obsessed’ thing.”

Mihawk finally gave a soft, tired sigh — the kind that said you people are exhausting.

Then, turning to you, he asked, “Would you like tea?”

“I haven’t said I was thirsty.”

He didn’t blink. “You will be.”

You stared. “Are you psychic?”

“No,” he said simply. “You’re predictable.”

You squinted. “...That sounds like flirting.”

Mihawk blinked slowly. “I don’t flirt.”

Perona groaned. “OH MY GOD—”

Mihawk stood up, cloak sweeping behind him, expression unreadable as always. He held out the canteen like he’d already won this conversation.

You took it with narrowed eyes, muttering, “Thanks... I guess.”

He nodded, calm as ever. “You’re welcome.”

Zoro crossed his arms. “Still denying it?”

Mihawk looked at all of them — then at you — and with perfect poise said,

“I’m just efficient.”

And with that, he turned and walked away.

You stared after him, took a sip from the canteen, and sighed.

“…Efficiently annoying.”

[sizzlingcloudmentality]

finite eternity

Professor Reed Richards x f!reader | wc: 1 k | ao3 | mdni, fluff

summary: after getting your phd you return to your former professor to thank him. he says some nice things and you get a "you're coming" guarantee. coming to dinner that is.

warnings: legal age gap (reader's mid/end 20, Reed is however deliciously middle aged), a little angsty, a few possible double entendres (or maybe not? you get to decide), a little pining, finger under the chin (twice), the poor attempt of science metaphors, and if you like: there's definitely some threesome things happening AFTER this fic

a/n: I need Reed Richards. and a smart man with grey hair at a blackboard? hell yeah. telling me he's proud of me? hell yeah. inviting me home to have dinner with him and his perfect wife? HELL YEAH. thanks to my perfect wife @guiltyasdave for the quick beta and the squealing<3

series masterlist - prologue - ch. 1

The big doors open silently and you slip into the lecture hall. The one you've spent so many hours in, learning, despairing, making friends. Falling in love even. You haven't been here for two years and everything has changed and everything is somehow still the same.

Quietly you take the steps down, careful to not startle Professor Richards who is writing on the blackboard. The quiet, smooth rasp of the chalk against the dark surface sounds so familiar that it gives you butterflies. Or maybe it’s him, still him.

A smile crosses your face when you read the formulas on the board, you know them well, you wrote your thesis about them. When you reach the first row and you pull down one of the seats a loud creak disturbs the peaceful and dignified aura of wisdom and science. Reed turns around, already a charming smile on his lips to shoo some eager students back out of the room.

“Sorry, lecture doesn’t start until…-” And his smile turns genuine, his eyes crinkle and his head tilts down so he can give you that one look from under his lashes. “You? What, did you forget to start your assignment on time again?”

Your own smile grows and the butterflies are still in the pit of your stomach. Maybe it was Reed all along. The old banter, it flares up so easily between the two of you like there hasn't been a two year break.

Your elbows propped up on the table in front of you, your chin resting on your folded hands, just like you spent half of the lectures in this hall. Nothing has changed.

“I can assure you, there are no due assignments anymore, Professor-”

“Reed, please,” he interrupts you and puts the chalk away. “You’re one of us now, please call me Reed.”

He wipes his fingers clean before walking over to you and sitting down on the fixed table next to you.

“You've heard about it?” You feel so proud in this moment, being one of them, one of the smart scientists, and it feels like you've worked your ass off just for this: the doctor title and the privilege to call your first mentor Reed.

“Of course I have. I’ve watched you. Your successes. Congratulations!” He holds out his hand, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up and giving you free sight to his forearms. He is still so incredibly toned. You take his hand and when his warm palm swallows yours in a firm shake your breath hitches just the slightest bit. Nothing has changed.

“Thank you. For everything, Reed. Without your support I wouldn't have been able to-”

He shakes his head, interrupting you again. You're not even mad. “None of that. You did it all yourself, all the hard work. All the hours you stayed awake at night, working through papers… All I did was giving you a little nudge every now and then.”

You remember the little nudges. The encouraging notes you sometimes found. Or when he squeezed your arm, his thumb rubbing over your shirt. Your eyes flick from his smile to his eyes and then you take in his whole face. There's more grey in his hair now. A few more wrinkles. But the soft waves in his hair are still there. He still holds your hand, even has placed his other one on top.

You look at each other for a moment and the moment stretches into a small eternity that just belongs to you and him. He probably knows a formula to describe this phenomenon.

“I'm proud of you,” he says quietly and heat crawls up your neck when he squeezes your hand, his thumb caressing the skin over your knuckles.

“Thank you, Reed,” you whisper and feel shy all of a sudden.

Just as shy as that one evening, when he helped you with something, you can't even remember what it was. But you sat in his office, slumped over your notes, frustration gnawing at you like you gnawed at the end of your pencil. Until he was next to you and nudged your chin up to make you look at him.

He didn’t say anything at that moment, there was just silence and his finger under your chin and the scent of books and tea and his aftershave and his tongue running along his lips. Another of those finite eternities. “You’ll be doing great,” he said and made time start running again. Slowly running, like his thumb along your bottom lip. For just the fraction of a second. As if it had never happened…

“You look all grown up. Like the woman I always knew you were.” He squeezes your hand again and you blink. You are back again, in the lecture hall in which Professor Richards made you fall in love with science. Back in the front row, with Reed saying things you'll stash away for later.

“Come over for dinner. Sue loves getting to know my science spawns.” He leans closer, his smile morphing into a mischievous smirk. “Especially the pretty ones. Pretty smart ones.”

You hesitate, at loss for words with Reed being so close that his gravitational pull draws you closer. Your mouth opens and closes again when he tugs on your hands, making your orbit a little smaller.

“Just say yes. It will be grand. Now, that we're all adults. All grown up,” he whispers and his voice, sweet and rich, says so much more than the words mean. “I know you want to, I know that face…”

He tips your chin up with the simple touch of his finger and you can't hide your excitement anymore. You roll your eyes and scoff out a little chuckle.

“Fine. I’m coming.”

“Oh, I know you will!” He gets up again, the pad of his finger still under your chin. “Sue and I will make sure of it.”

Maybe some things have changed.

whoopsie, no smut in this. i still hope you like it, let me know <3

find my general masterlist here

divider: @/saradika-graphics