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404lizzylizard · 2 days ago

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Acts of Service

pairing: spencer reid x coworker!reader

tone/content : Flirty, slow-burn workplace tension with classic Reid awkward charm

Word Count: ~1,050

a/n: from the poll yall. I had to download the app on my phone and transfer it🤧. Don’t worrry I come in clutch (not proof read….🧍‍♀️)

It started with the Garcia file.

You distinctly remember it being halfway done — notes scattered, references highlighted, a sticky note with a reminder to cross-check timestamps on page five. But when you opened it the next morning, it was pristine. Fully annotated. Color-coded margins. Footnotes. With APA citations.

At first, you chalked it up to a moment of overachieving late-night productivity. Maybe you'd done it in a fugue state. Maybe your brain was broken. Or maybe Emily had gotten bored and overly helpful after one too many Red Bulls. Wouldn’t be the first time.

But then it happened again.

And again.

By the fourth mystery-completed file, you were suspicious.

You glanced across the bullpen, eyes narrowing. Emily was sipping coffee innocently. Morgan was deep in conversation with Hotch. Garcia was mid-rant about someone in Cyber Crimes who dared call her a “data analyst.” Everyone looked appropriately overwhelmed.

Except Spencer.

Dr. Reid sat at his desk, tapping his pen against his lip while reading over a document — your document. The unmistakable teal header from your case notes peeked out beneath his hand. And was that… your handwriting?

You stood slowly, squinting. Then crossed the bullpen with all the subtlety of a jungle cat.

“Hey, Spencer.”

He startled like he’d been caught breaking into a safe. “Hi! Hello. Hey. Good morning.” His voice did that pitchy nervous thing, the one that meant his brain had already cycled through nine potential exit strategies and decided none of them would work.

You leaned on his desk.

“That’s my case summary.”

He blinked. “Oh. Right. I—uh—I was just reading it.”

“Reading it. Or rewriting it?”

Spencer flushed.

You crossed your arms, trying not to grin. “Reid. Have you been… finishing my files?”

His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “Define ‘finishing.’”

“Rewriting case synopses. Cleaning up victimology timelines. Adding footnotes in Latin.”

“…okay, yes. But it’s not like— I didn’t mean to! Not at first.” He rushed to explain, words tumbling. “It started because I saw your file on the coffee table and I noticed the timeline had a two-hour discrepancy between when the suspect left the gas station and when the body was found, and I thought, well, that’s probably important, so I checked the timestamps, and then—then I realized it needed clarification, and by the time I looked up, it was…done.”

You blinked.

“And then it kept happening?”

Spencer nodded, sheepish. “They’re just… fun to work on. Yours are fun.”

You tilted your head. “You think my case files are fun?”

He smiled, that shy, endearing half-smile you hated how much you liked. “They’re very organized. And you leave sarcastic comments in the margins sometimes. It’s like… an annotated tour of your brain.”

That one caught you off guard. A little flutter somewhere deep in your chest.

“I thought maybe you were annoyed,” you admitted, quieter now. “I figured you were fixing my mistakes.”

Spencer looked horrified. “No! Not at all. You don’t make mistakes. I mean- statistically, everyone makes mistakes, but yours are minor and usually spelling-related and once you spelled ‘unsurvivable’ with two R’s but I thought it was kind of charming-”

You laughed, covering your face. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

He cleared his throat, trying to regain composure. “Sorry. I’ll stop. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

You glance down at the neat stack of color-coded papers on his desk, your name typed at the top, your scribbles still faintly visible beneath his tidier notes. Something warm unfurls in your chest. You shake your head.

“You don’t have to stop.”

Spencer blinks. “Really?”

You shrug, a little self-conscious now. “If you like doing it, and I still get the credit, I mean… who am I to take away your nerdy acts of service?”

His ears go pink. “Acts of service?”

You smile, grabbing your folder back from his desk, fingers brushing his as you do. “Spencer, this is the workplace equivalent of braiding my hair and packing me lunch. Admit it.”

He looks momentarily dazed. “Do you… want me to pack you lunch?”

You laugh, walking backward toward your desk. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Romeo.”

Spencer watches you retreat, stunned and very clearly flustered. When you sit, you peek up just in time to catch him smiling stupidly at his paperwork.

It happens again the next day. And the next.

Eventually, the team stops asking why your files are always perfect.

But you catch the way Hotch glances between the two of you. The way JJ smirks when Spencer brings you coffee. The way Garcia fake-swoons every time he quietly slips a revised summary onto your desk like some criminal-profiling fairy godmother.

You don’t mind.

Because now, every time you open one of those perfectly polished files, you find a new note — sometimes just a margin doodle, sometimes a quote, once an actual equation that solved a joke you’d made in passing two weeks prior.

Eventually, one of the footnotes reads:

P.S. If you ever want dinner instead of coffee, I’m available.

—S.R.

You don’t annotate the note.

You just write your number on a sticky note and place it under his favorite pen.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #request #fanfic #lizzylizard #coworker!reader #coworker!reader x reader

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jellyfishsthings · 2 days ago

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The Gravity Between Us

navigation , dc navigation

Summary: Dick yearning for a nerdy girl who constantly talks about her new books or new science inventions, he doesn't understand shit and they have to look stuff up constantly trying to keep up with her

requests are open

dividers by @cafekitsune

Dick didn’t believe in love at first sight.

He believed in proximity. Shared moments. Laughter over mismatched socks and long nights spent brushing teeth in silence. He believed in the slow build—accumulated glances, casual touches, the way someone’s name sounded when said too softly, too often.

But if there was ever a moment that could challenge that belief, it was the first time he saw you.

You were arguing with the Dean of Gotham University’s Applied Sciences Department in the hallway. Over orbital velocity.

You weren’t angry, not really—your hands moved too freely for that. You were passionate. Bright-eyed. Electric. You rattled off calculations like poetry, numbers and terms Dick didn’t understand but wanted to memorize anyway.

She’s speaking Latin, he thought. No. Star-language. This woman is built of solar flares and syllables I don’t know how to pronounce.

He was there for a guest lecture on criminology. You were late to a meeting. You brushed past him, eyes distant, your bag slamming into his side without apology.

Dick fell in love with the sound of your thoughts.

He asked Barbara who you were.

“She’s scary smart,” Babs said, smirking over her coffee. “Don’t get your hopes up, Grayson. I tried to get her to help me debug something once and she built a better algorithm in ten minutes while eating a croissant.”

So of course he pursued you.

Like any normal person, Dick decided to attend your public seminars. Which meant sitting in the back of overcrowded rooms next to grad students who whispered things like Did she really reverse-engineer a nuclear model for fun?

He didn’t understand 70% of what you said. But he liked the way your eyes lit up when you talked about gravitational wave detection or microbial communication. You swore like a sailor when you explained things and always had chalk on your hands, like your mind spilled out of you faster than you could contain it.

He wasn’t your type. That much was obvious.

You liked brilliant, slightly aloof, lab-coated types who forgot to eat dinner because they were too busy decoding the genetic memory of fungi. Not acrobats who carried grappling hooks and read crime scene reports for breakfast.

Still. He wanted to know you.

You met properly during a blackout in the city.

You were in the lobby of your building, trying to coax a neighbor’s ancient cat out from under the vending machine with a laser pointer and tuna.

“Need a hand?” he asked, half-laughing, crouched beside you in the dark.

You looked at him. Really looked at him. Something shifted.

“I’ve seen you before,” you said. “You’re the guy who keeps showing up to my astrophysics lectures and pretending to take notes.”

Dick flushed. “Guilty.”

“You looked very confused during the part on dark matter.”

“To be fair, I was still trying to figure out what the Standard Model was.”

You smirked, tugged the cat out gently, handed it off to a grateful neighbor, and turned to him.

“Buy me coffee and I’ll explain it to you.”

He did. He also fell in love with the way you dunked your biscotti and talked about string theory like it was a romance novel.

Dating you was like orbiting a star.

You were radiant. Intense. Impossible not to be drawn to. You had ten books on your nightstand and a half-finished whiteboard formula in your kitchen. You wore socks with chemical structures on them and got distracted mid-sentence to scribble ideas on napkins.

And Dick—he tried.

God, he tried.

He watched documentaries. Asked Babs for help. Subscribed to every science podcast with a halfway decent host.

You’d curl up beside him, humming as you flipped through papers, occasionally whispering things like, “Did you know Venus rotates backwards?” or “There’s a protein in tardigrades that basically makes them immortal.”

He didn’t understand half of it.

But he loved listening. Because you came alive when you spoke. And every time he saw your hands moving, sketching new ideas in the air, he swore the rest of the world went quiet.

It wasn’t all stardust and poetry.

Dick had his own shadows. Long nights. Bruised ribs. The part of himself that couldn’t always talk about where he was or what he saw.

You didn’t push. But sometimes he saw the questions in your eyes. And sometimes, when you were halfway through explaining a recent breakthrough in bioluminescent engineering, you’d stop, tilt your head, and say:

“You’re not really here, are you?”

“I am,” he always said. “I’m trying.”

You’d nod, but the distance would settle in like fog.

One night, you found his emergency burner phone in the couch cushions. The message on it: “Warehouse raid at 2 a.m. Bring backup.”

He expected you to yell. Or leave.

Instead, you said, “You’re him, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“Nightwing.”

Dick froze.

You looked calm. Tired, but calm. “I’ve cross-referenced your injuries, time away, and your avoidance of any real explanations. You’re either a spy or a vigilante. And given your gymnastic abilities and the way you keep bruising your ribs…”

He blinked. “You figured that out from my rib injuries?”

You shrugged. “The pattern matched a common trajectory of reinforced police batons. I ran the math.”

He laughed. Then kissed you. Then cried a little into your shoulder when you said, “I still want you to be safe. But I’m not leaving.”

One night, you were on the phone with your lab while cooking stir fry with your free hand and explaining CRISPR to Damian, who’d just dropped by to borrow a biology textbook.

Tim was there too, sitting at the counter with a furrowed brow and an empty notepad.

“Wait—wait, can you say that again?” Tim asked, already flipping through his calculus workbook.

Dick walked in and stopped in the doorway.

There you were—hair messy, glasses askew, hoodie half-tucked—and two of the smartest people he knew were hanging on your every word.

Tim scribbled notes while you corrected a theorem. Damian asked about mitochondrial DNA. You didn’t even pause while plating dinner with your foot.

And Dick?

He leaned on the doorframe and watched you—half in awe, half jealous.

Because he used to be the one who lit up when you talked. He used to be the one who asked all the questions, tried to keep up. Now the boys were stealing your brain, your laugh, your look at this cool thing I just discovered!

He sighed a little too loudly.

You turned, eyes wide. “Hey, babe. Hungry?”

“I could eat.”

Tim looked up. “She just explained the Schrödinger equation using scrambled eggs.”

“Of course she did,” Dick muttered, kissing your temple. “Because that’s sexy now, apparently.”

You grinned. “Oh? You jealous?”

Dick looked at your two very eager pupils.

“…Maybe a little.”

Later that night, you found him in bed with a beginner’s book on astrophysics.

You laughed. “Babe.”

“I need to catch up. I don’t want to lose you to Tim and Damian.”

“You’re not going to lose me.”

“They understand your brain.”

You crawled into his lap, took the book from his hands, and kissed him softly. “You don’t have to understand everything I say. You just have to listen.”

“I do listen.”

“I know. That’s why I love you.”

Dick paused. Blinked. “You love me?”

You smiled. “Was that not obvious?”

He pulled you into his chest and whispered, “I’m in orbit, sweetheart. Always have been.”

And you?

You curled up against him, heart steady, mind quiet for once, knowing that no matter how fast your thoughts spun, he’d always be right there—trying, listening, loving you through it all.

#dick grayson x you #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson fluff #dick grayson #dick grayson oneshot #dick grayson fanfiction #nightwing x you #nightwing fluff #nightwing x reader #nightwing imagine #nightwing #dc comics #dc comics x you #dc comics x reader

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sailingintothenight · 2 days ago

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"The girl in his eyes." Bob Reynolds Imagine.

(Not my gif but give a prize to the people who make them)

Summary: Time together created feelings in the two of you. One night, the group tries to get him and you to talk about it, with John urging Bob to talk about "the girl in his eyes." And that creates a big misunderstanding.

A/N: Just a kind of short imagine (around 4K words) cause I'm new here and I don't want to go on too long and bore you all in case this is boring. I'm sorry if there are any grammatical errors. But something I always knew but I accepted today is that some of us write the kind of love we'd like to receive, right? The kind we sometimes can't find, though other did find, I hope. However, in the meantime, don't forget to love yourself please. As a warning, a little angst(?) but with a happy ending! and the word "drug." I think that's all, thanks!

“Lena, did you see (Y/N)—”

The last letter of your name drops to a whisper as Bob stops in front of the long couch, Yelena’s finger pressed against her own lips to silence him, a potato chip sandwiched between her other two before she pops it into her mouth, the bag in her lap, and her full attention back on the phone in her other hand.

She’s sitting diagonally, her back between the cushion behind her and the armrest, her left knee bent down as it falls off the edge to the floor, but it’s the other one that has Bob pressing his lips together as he films this version of you with his bluest gaze, the memory searing itself into his mind. You’re there, asleep, lying sideways on the comfy, fluffy cushions, part of your head on the outside of Yelena’s thigh, a front strand of your hair now falling over your closed eyelids and the border of your nose.

And it's soft for Bob, that image of you, and overwhelming only in the way it forces him to swallow the lump forming in his throat as his feelings pile up inside.

"You need anything, Bob?" Yelena's pointed gaze moves from the paused TikTok video (a cat staring at the camera, a flashbulb fired in right in its face), chuckling as the animal's expression still lingers in her mind, and frozen on her phone—the white feline silhouette and wide–open eyes—she shows it to him. "Have you watched this video?"

Bob nods, and the sound of him trying to clear his throat (so his words don't falter mid–sentence as he knows they will) accompanies the action.

"Yeah, (Y/N) sent it to me a few days ago."

"It's so funny." She laughs softly, and her full attention is on to the device again, finger sliding across the screen after saving it to favorites, bringing another chip to her mouth. “That cat is so silly.”

But like a cry, Bob whimpers softly, the tiniest sound in the silence.

“You’re dropping crumbs in her hair, Lena.”

Yelena stops, her gaze sliding from her phone to him and then back down to you, and her slightly oily hand catches the crispy piece that had gotten caught in the strands.

“Relax, Bob. This is the price (Y/N) is paying for using me. She knows it. We shook hands. Now, do you need anything? Or someone, maybe?”

There’s a hint of healthy mockery in her smile, a silent challenge in her tone of voice that’s urging him to answer only with the truth everyone already sees, but the featherweight of her joke feels like lead in his chest and in his nervous hands, covered by a layer of clothing one size too big for Bob.

“No, just… I finished reading a book and thought (Y/N) would be here ready to—”

But there was nothing afterward, just lying there together, in the same bed before sleeping, on extreme sides so as not to cross boundaries but to keep each other company before loneliness settled in every room, when it sometimes forced Bob to wake up with a gasp and a foggy mind filled with traumatic experiences, talking about books or things.

But perhaps it was the words left unspoken between you two before sleeping (hidden among the ones you did say: goodnight and sleep well), the ones you two avoided saying and pushed aside, along with the feelings that lived dormant in the darkness and accumulated inside each other—the things you both were dying to say but neither of you dared for fear that the already solid pillars of your friendship would crumble because of something as unstable as love.

Yelena waits a second longer, but there is no response from the other end.

“The team and I were talking about you tw—”

Bob knows what it is, the favorite topic on everyone's lips.

“You guys talk a lot, maybe you should shut up for a while. Silence is good sometimes.”

She rolls her eyes, an exasperated look following her action.

“Help me out here for a while, will you? I have a cramp and need to stretch.”

Bob swallows, eyes slightly wide at the prospect of feeling that kind of closeness with you, the kind that comes so quickly it makes him dizzy and ignites the heat in his cheeks sharply. The warmth of your hand, he felt it before, many times, a casual or intentional touch, and it was scorching (like when the supermarket was crowded and the crush of people unnerved him sometimes, for example, so your fingers would close around his and his hand would squeeze yours), as if it could ignite a forest fire inside him, so wild it seemed it could burn everything… but everything bad, of course—like the enemy in his thoughts, his insecurities, his fears, his nightmares.

He didn't even want to think about what it would feel like to feel the heat of your cheek.

But he did.

Bob had imagined it several times already. In a burst of bravery, with his heart beating faster than a drug high, his thumb would slide down your soft cheek, fingers hooking gently around the edge of your jaw.

"Bob?"

"What?"

Yelena drops her things into the armrest, her hand cupping the bottom of your head.

“Put your leg here, Bob.”

He shakes his head fast, his own heartbeat increasing with the fear and excitement that mix, so close that the line between them blurs, and his somewhat messy, wild hair moves with him.

“I don’t think—”

“Three…”

“What are you—?”

“Two…”

“Lena—”

“One.”

Bob takes a step forward, hands outstretched to stop her without a word, a silent plea in his eyes for her to do nothing, even though Yelena hadn't moved an inch and wasn't planning to either. And with a deep inhalation and exhalation, a failed attempt to fill his lungs with cold air and soothe the heat settling in his chest, Bob switches places with her, even more gentle as you shift in your sleep, your hands close to your face and your cheek now on his leg, covered by his gray sleep pants, but which seem like the finest fabric in the world when Bob feels your heat radiate through your skin until it meets his, every nerve ending.

"You're adorable, Bob." Yelena laughs quietly, but there's not a hint of cruel mockery in her words—never with him—and she leans back on the second–long sofa, phone in her hand again. "Like those boys in her books. Such a gentleman. I know why she likes you so much."

Likes you, being in love—two different scenarios if the feelings on either side were unequal. Either a chasm separated those two feelings, or the first could be the path to get to the other.

“Did I do something wrong to make her not like me anymore?”

The weight of self–doubt about a topic as distant and still foreign to him as love (next to his insecurities) try to bring down the confidence Bob was still trying to build little by little, day by day, and Yelena can see them shining clearly in his gaze as he finally holds hers, even in the dim living room light at night, searching for an answer he can't find within himself, not when there's a thick fog between the truth and him.

“What do you mean?”

Bob shrugs.

“(Y/N) is always here with me, but absent at the same time, as if something has suddenly changed between us.”

“You’re overthinking things, Bob.”

There’s affection in Yelena’s words, and they are warm in their attempt to reassure him of a truth hidden among his fears, but he lets out a small sound, something like a laugh without a hint of humor. Just an empty noise.

“Overthinking sometimes allows you to see the smallest things.”

“Like what?”

Bob can see it in his sometimes fragmented mind, every moment together and the way you changed, slowly, with him always next to you but finding solitude where there was only company, a touch of emptiness when there was always life in your eyes everytime you looked at him.

He doesn't know exactly how to explain any of that, and Yelena nods thoughtfully.

"Why don't you try to think about what exactly you did then? We have a while until the losers arrive with dinner. I'm going to be here with you, but ignoring you at the same time, okay?"

Catching his slight nod, Yelena turns on the couch, face close to the cushion and her phone in between, indistinct sounds from the videos, set to low volume, floating around him so the absolute silence doesn't completely consume him with the severity of his thoughts.

Bob lowers his head and his gaze rests on you, listening to the sound of your slow breathing as, in your sleep, your body relaxed, at peace. The curve of your lips is tempting, and he lifts the hand resting in his lap to push that strand of hair away from your face and place it where it belongs.

There, above your eyebrow and with nothing covering it now, Bob can see the only physical reminder of the fall of a whole building when your self–control overflowed at the edge of your anger. And like a tiny crack in a surface, the small scar has a slightly different hue than your skin, but it was an imperfection that only makes you even more perfect, more real, a whole person and not a cruel dream from which Bob always wakes up before reaching.

Just like that, your presence in his life became a need.

You were the proof that he was still alive after the unbearable pain, (knowing all have been worth it because he met you) and that his heart hadn't turned to tin. He was still breathing, his heart was still beating, and for the first time, he'd finally felt the nervous tingle, the fluttering of being in love.

Love, so silent you don't even know you have it until you're full of it.

Love, a silent feeling in a room full of euphoria, and at the same time, it's like an alarm that goes off and no one but him and you can hear.

To be close to you, with you, every day, that’s all Bob wanted at the beginning. But almost selfishly, the passage of time together made him greedy, wanting more from you, a different smile than you had for others, a new kind of laugh, escalating until all his thoughts were about you, daydreaming about how to shake off his title of friend and crown himself with a different one.

It was a silent plea, a hope. It became a desire that made him company through his sleepless nights…

“You need to be direct with her.” Alexei had said a few weeks ago in the kitchen, when the hands of the clock showed it was very late at night. “Your words must be deep enough to cut like a knife in the heart.”

Bob didn’t even know how he’d ended up in that secret meeting, when all he’d wanted to do was grab a late–night snack from the fridge to leave on your nightstand after you’d joked, somewhat embarrassingly, that you did that sometimes. But, confused and slightly scared, his eyebrows furrowed in surprise as the rest of the men stared at the red guardian and his constantly failing attempt to explain himself properly.

“Maybe not so direct.” Walker shook his head, the usual mocking tone in his voice. “How about you just tell her in small hints instead of trying to draw blood? You can hint that you like her, but without actually saying I like you.”

Bob blinked, confused, the information coming in too fast as he tried to take it all in.

“Like what?”

Bucky wag his head softly.

“Ask her to teach you how to do things you know she likes. She will feel that you are interested in her.”

And that was exactly what Bob did.

Now, when the doors of the elevator open and some really loud voices pierce the room, Bob’s natural protective instinct, (the one that was born in him the first time he took care of his father after witnessing his first blackout) makes his hand, a second after the resounding sound, move fast to press it against your ear, blocking out the laugh coming from the men.

As a reflex, your body moves in your sleep, but your awakening is less abrupt with his help.

You get up slowly, your mind and gaze blurred as Yelena leaves the living room, patting Bob on the shoulder on her way to the dining room. The edges of your gaze darken after rubbing your eyes with the palms of your hands, the pleasant sting creeping around as you chuckle.

“Did I sleep so much I forgot I was lying on your leg?”

Bob chuckles too, and an invisible thread pulls the corner of his lip upward.

“You slept so long that Lena’s leg went numb. Just like mine.”

You let out a surprised laugh, your body slumping back against the backrest.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay, you know I’m always here for you.”

“Kids, dinner!”

Alexei’s voice fills the room.

At the same time, as a reflection that you both can’t avoid in time when instinct wins, Bob and you move your bodies to look over your shoulders, heads turning in the same direction, finding yourselves at what your mother used to call, at the perfect distance of a kiss. Bob is so close you can almost drink his breath, stopping yours when his blue gaze holds yours for an eternal second that finish too quickly but that feels endless too, watching each other's eyes before you both separate, looking forward as a nervous feeling fills your heart.

You walk away first, finding an empty spot next to Ava.

“Dad, will you stop calling us to the table like we’re real kids?” Yelena complains, sitting at one of the heads of the food–laden table as Bob sits in the chair across from you. “Someone here is older than life.”

The rest chuckle, not too loudly.

“But you’re my kids. Now, let’s have dinner like family.”

At some point, there is a back—and—forth conversation around, about a past relationship for some of them, somehow empty, never too deep because talking once about the future they hoped and never got to feel is enough for everybody, but always accompanied by soft laughter that makes the tower feel like a real home after some lost it or never had it in the first place.

“So… what’s your type of man, (Y/N)?” Yelena chuckles, and the sound is full of her genuine affection for you, but it hides too her desire to steer the conversation in a way that Bob can be somehow included in your words. “You’re always reading, so you must have a type. Maybe someone here is just like that.”

The others feign innocence, but the possibility stirs in Bob’s body with a heartbeat that’s too fast, eyebrows slightly furrowed in confusion, in expectation, and with a certain weight of worry about not hearing a promising answer.

“Who?” Ava laughs also knowingly, with a certain disdain at thinking of the others and you that way too, and her finger points at Alexei. “Too old.” Then at Bucky. “Way too old.” Finally, at John. “Too much of an idiot. That leaves just Bob.”

Bob swallows at the sound of his name, so abruptly that the food in his mouth makes his expression twist slightly in pain.

The others, expectant, continue waiting.

You clear your throat, your heart pounding against your chest as if it were seeking its own freedom and a way out of a situation that seems unlikely to end well.

“The usual, I guess, just… a nice guy.”

“Oh, come on, that’s not fun.” John grins, malice bubbling up as if he needs to embarrass someone at least once a day to survive. “You could be more specific, like Bob. Right now there is a girl in his eyes so he could tell us what she’s like, describe her so much until we’re bored.”

Bob's gaze meets yours, barely a second before you look away when Bucky speaks.

“I think that’s enough with the jokes, huh?”

But then, to everyone’s surprise and his own, Bob speaks, and with a touch of nervousness in his voice bordering on anxiety, he starts talking about her. Just a little, not a lot, not quite to the point of boring the rest of you.

And you listen, your heart a little cold around the edges. Like a brutal change in the season, the tempest of his words threatens to hurt you without hesitation or guilt, but you listen, because you always tried to be a good friend to Bob, a person he could trust when he didn't even trust his own shadow. And even when he was always full of doubt about himself, about the truth, he seemed to trust your voice more than the enemy within, the one that whispered only cruelty. Even when he became cloudy, Bob would pull the blanket off his head when you asked him to, because that was always a promise for him that the sadness would all end eventually.

For all those months together, it had been you, and between heartbeats, it had always been him. Until you confused things, apparently.

Until the girl in his eyes arrived.

And it hurts, it burns to think about it, that reality that creeps up on you, that of always being just a friend. And it's like having an empty stomach, an empty mind, an empty heart.

When he's finished, you excuse yourself to leave the room with a smile and your head held high, leaving the deathly silence behind and missing the way Bob follows you with his eyes, even after you disappear.

"I think we blew this." Ava lets out a small sound, like a worried laugh at possible defeat as she looks at the rest.

"Did you have to go on so long, genius?" A semi–hard object hits the side of Bob's head and bounces off it, but without erasing his terrified expression as he looks at Bucky. "We told you you had to flatter her a little, not write her a whole Shakespearean sonnet."

Yelena frowns.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Some weeks ago we told Bob to try to hint to (Y/N) that he likes her without telling her he likes her.”

“And?”

“And nothing else. (Y/N) came into the kitchen that night to get something from the fridge, and the conversation ended there.”

“Did she hear you talking about this ingenious plan?” Ava’s hard gaze landed on Bob, and he blinked, innocent eyes set in a look of terror. “Did (Y/N) hear you talking about her? or did she hear you being told by the smartest men in this place how to get a random girl?”

As night fell and sent the rest of the team to sleep, the endless talk finished when you had entered the kitchen, a soft sound from your throat announcing your presence first.

“What are you doing up so late, darling?”

“Just came to get something to eat.” You replied to Bucky, and Bucky’s gaze rested on you, all the way until you closed the fridge door. “Sorry to interrupt your boys’ sleepover.”

“It’s not a boys’ sleepover, (Y/N), please.” John whined softly, slightly offended.

“Men’ sleepover is better.” Alexei smiled, and you laughed with him, his innocence fluttering as the others sighed in defeat.

“Of course, my mistake. Sleep well, everybody.”

“You too.”

The others' voices were an echo, except for Bob's, lips closed as your eyes fell on him in your farewell, just for a second.

He never said your name, and neither did the others. But from then on, there was only half a life in your eyes, whereas before they had always been full of it every time you looked at him.

The seconds of understanding end when Bob stands up, so fast he pushes his chair back with a dry sound against the polished floor.

His own breathing becomes labored, but he tries to calm his anxious heart all the way down the hall.

"You always have to ruin things—"

"Not this time. Not with her." Bob murmurs softly, and when he finally reaches your room, your door is always open for anyone who wants to enter and exist, and that's a mixed relief for him. "(Y/N)?"

You look over your shoulder, your body facing away from him as you continue to sit in front of your laptop on the desk.

"Yes?"

"Can I come in?"

"Of course."

Bob closes the door behind him, barely making a noise as he ventures inside, but feeling the place like untapped territory even though he's been there since his life merged with yours. The sound of his sneakers on the floor is almost nonexistent, but it feels heavy like lead in his pockets as Bob sits next to you, listening to the almost ghostly volume of the video playing in front of you.

"You okay, Bob?"

Your attention is on the screen and your voice is a whisper, but it is an overwhelming force that hits his chest, even harder than bullets in the past.

"Are you?"

You chuckle.

"I asked you first."

Bob hums a reply.

"You wanna lie down for a while? I finished a new book today and I know I can convince you to read it."

You shake your head, but there's a slight, honest smile on your lips.

"I'm not sleepy yet. Maybe later or tomorrow."

Neither of you says anything for a moment, your eyes straight ahead like Bob's gaze lingers on your profile. Bright eyes, soft skin.

But Bob knew that you too were still learning to use your voice just like him, to find the right words—those always hidden—so scattered across different galaxies, so far from each other that you still struggled to put them together to say something eloquent, to say what you both truly wanted to say, what you two truly felt. Silence had always been your ally and an imposition for him. And that had been his curse throughout his life, always in solitude, until it created his inability to say what he really wanted to say.

But not today, not ever again.

“We’re feeling a little much apathetic today, huh?”

It’s not an accusation, but his tone tinges with his sassiness, the kind he used to make direct comments and respond to other people’s jokes, to John’s sarcasm and sometimes Bucky’s condescension. Today, however, his words make you frown sharply as you turn to look at him.

“Excuse me?” His gaze threatens to falter and leave yours when you narrow your eyes at him, but Bob stands firm when what he's said is free to the world, saying out loud what he wants to say instead of letting it perish inside and ducking his head to pretend it never happened. "You're quite bold sometimes, Bob."

“And you’re quite clueless.” He smiles, softly, nervous but firmly planted on the floor, his heart pounding in his chest. The electricity, the tingling at his fingertips as the result of this brave act is addictive, like a drug, but ultimately a healthy one, one he wants to get hooked on. “I was talking about you, silly. How can you be so smart and not realize that every word I said was about you, (Y/N)?”

Your frown relaxes more, and the gnawing feeling of annoyance at his forwardness is replaced by confusion. His hands cup the sides of your chair, and Bob pulls you closer, gently, not roughly, taking in the way your body has stopped tensing, being brave when he sees your eyes light up with affection again, completely—a little scared around the edges, but finally not halfway.

“When I asked you to teach me how to braid your hair, it was for you—for that loose braid you always have. Your mom did it for you, didn’t she? Every day. You told me.” You nod, feeling the heat from his knees radiating against yours. “When I asked you to teach me how to dance to those old ballads Bucky loves so much, I didn’t do it to dance with someone else. I did it because I saw the way he spun you around one night and saw you laugh, and I wanted so badly to be him that I could feel my body vibrate. The things I said in the kitchen, about her hair and her laugh and everything—it was all about you, okay? Can you believe me, honey? Please?”

You nod again, and Bob can see hope, right next to that desire of a soul crying out for the exact same thing as his, silent but fervent.

His hands cup your face, soft skin over slightly calloused fingers on your cheeks and the underside, thumbs gliding to make his dreams (asleep and awake) come true, a touch so tender you feel nothing but warmth at the tips—his face so close his breath mingles with yours.

Your own hands clutch at his arms, searching for something to hold you steady as well.

“I’m sorry. I… I got scared. This is my first time feeling like this.”

“I know. And I’m so sorry, I never meant to make you feel like there was someone else because ever since I met you, it’s always been you. But if you still have any doubt, you are the girl in my eyes.”

Bob leans forward, closing the small space between his existence and yours.

And behind his closed eyelids, just like yours, the darkness ceases to be terrifying and becomes pleasurable, for the first time in his life, a place where Bob would stay if that means he can keep kissing you like this. Time, life itself, the past and future are suspended, unimportant and in an eternal pause in the long seconds his lips linger and move with yours. It’s like an unspoken conversation between you two, a confession of love without even having to say those three magical words. A connection, strength and gentleness, melting away any fear or doubt. The kiss is soft like him, a little shy like you, but real and perfect after every moment you imagined him in your head.

And in a synchronized movement, the two of you separate, breathing in each other's air.

"I'll be back, okay? I won't be long." He whispers, his lips touch yours with the promise of many more shared kisses, before Bob stands.

"Where are you going?"

He stops halfway across the room and turns around, those strands of hair on either side of his face bouncing with the movement.

“I'm going to get you some midnight snacks so you won't have to get up later, and get that book I was talking about.”

You laugh softly.

“And you're going to tell the others, aren't you?”

“No.” His shoulders slump. “Yes. I have to, honey. Lena and Ava were about to hurt me really bad.”

A nervous but genuine smile appears on that sweet face of him before Bob turns away.

#bob reynolds imagine #bob reynolds thunderbolts #bob reynolds x reader #bob reynolds x you #bob reynolds x y/n #bob thunderbolts #bob reynolds

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j0shuahongs · 1 day ago

Text

Say It Again

summary: just mark malfunctioning

pairing: mark lee x female reader

genre / tags: fluff, smut, slight humor, established relationship

warnings: explicit sexual content, fingering, soft dom!mark, praise kink / pet name kink, lots of pet names, and overuse of the word "baby". (please tell me if i missed some!)

wc: 2.7k

a/n: this was supposed to be a very cute and fluffy fic but I got carried away (whoops) 🤭

You’re not a pet name type of person. You tease him for using them. Roll your eyes every time he says babygirl or sweetheart or honey. Always hit him with:

— “Okay, Romeo. Relax.” — or a dry “Gross.”

You’re smiling, though. Every single time.

He knows you are. Doesn’t even need to look up anymore — just hears the edge of your voice, catches the tiniest upturn in your mouth, and it makes his chest ache. This is just who you are. You love him with your whole heart. But anything too mushy? Too sweet? Makes you squirm. Too cheesy? Too sentimental? You’d rather set yourself on fire.

You fold his laundry, steal his hoodies, and kiss his forehead every morning— but call him baby? God forbid.

So he gave up on expecting anything back. Not in a sad way — more like muscle memory now. A quiet acceptance.

Mark knows his role — he’s the nickname guy, you’re the pet-name grump.

He calls you angel when you look sleepy. Pretty girl when you’re mad at him. Darling when you’re sick and curled up in bed, nose pink and pouty.

You just shake your head and mutter, “You’re so embarrassing.” But you never tell him to stop.

He’s accepted it. Doesn’t need the words. He has all the proof he needs in the way you touch him, look at him, reach for his hand under the table even when you're pretending to be annoyed. He’s already so gone for you, it’s pathetic.

But then.

One day.

No warning.

You're in the middle of conversation, half-distracted, elbow-deep in a crinkly paper bag of fries, when you say it.

“Wait, can you pass me that? Thanks, baby.”

Just like that. Casual. Offhanded. As if you didn’t just drop a nuclear bomb onto his entire existence.

Silence.

You don’t even register it. Just keep rustling through your food, completely unaware of the spiritual event you’ve triggered behind you.

Mark freezes.

Hand halfway extended, holding the takeout container like it’s sacred scripture.

His whole body stills. Eyes wide. Jaw slack.

Soul... buffering.

“...What,” he breathes. “What did you just call me?”

You glance over your shoulder, chewing.

“Huh?”

He blinks. Slowly. Like he’s trying to reboot.

“You said—”

His voice cracks. “You said baby.”’

You shrug, lips full of noodles.

“Oh. Did I?”

“Did I??” he echoes, horrified. “Do you even understand what you’ve done?!”

You pop a spring roll into your mouth, already focused on unsealing the dipping sauce.

“Relax, Mark. It just slipped out.”

And that’s when he absolutely short-circuits.

“SLIPPED OUT?!”

He clutches his chest like he’s been mortally wounded. Slumps against the back of the chair with the drama of a soap opera lead.

“I need to sit down—wait, I am sitting. Then why do I feel like I’m gonna faint?”

You snort into your drink, nearly choking on a sip of iced tea.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m writing this down,” he rambles, hand now scrabbling blindly for his phone. “I’m journaling this. This is the highlight of my fucking life. Our future kids are hearing this story.”

“Mark. You’re crying.”

“I’M NOT—crying—I’m just—emotionally compromised.”

You shake your head, grinning into your food like an idiot, while across from you Mark stares at the ceiling in silent, reverent awe. Like he’s just heard the voice of God.

Later that night, you’re sprawled on the couch, stomach full, brain slow. Wrapped in post-dinner haze and the sound of the TV droning low in the background. One leg draped over the armrest, your hand resting lazily on your belly like a satisfied cat.

Mark’s on the other end, curled into himself, hoodie wrinkled, sleeves shoved up to his elbows as he wages war with a stubborn snack bag. His tongue pokes out in concentration, brows furrowed, completely unaware that you’re watching him like he’s the most endearing thing you’ve ever seen.

You pass behind the couch to grab your drink, then pause —

just long enough to lean down, press a soft kiss to the crown of his head, and murmur:

“Thanks, baby.”

You don’t even look back. Just grab your drink like it’s nothing.

But behind you—something shifts.

You make it three steps before it hits you.

Mark hasn’t moved.

You glance back.

He’s frozen. Snack bag in hand, half-open, arms slack. He’s staring ahead, not blinking—like someone just whispered the secrets of the universe in his ear and he’s trying to process them.

“…Mark?”

He turns to look at you, slow and awestruck. Like you just performed a miracle in front of him.

“You just—” He swallows hard. “You said it again.”

You tilt your head, one brow lifting.

“Said what?”

He gasps. Full gasp.

“Said what?! Don’t play dumb. You know exactly what you said.”

You rest your elbows against the back of the couch, watching him with a smirk that’s far too satisfied.

“You mean baby?”

Mark doesn’t blink. Doesn’t breathe. The TV hums in the background. Somewhere outside, a car drives by.

Then it hits him. Again.

The snack bag falls from his hand with a soft crinkle. He recoils, clutching his chest like he’s trying to physically contain his heart.

“I’m sweating,” he mutters, fanning himself. “Do you feel that? That’s my soul leaving my body. You just—casually—called me baby like it was nothing. Like you didn’t just rewrite my entire DNA.”

You laugh so hard your knees buckle. You have to grab the couch just to stay upright.

“No, because what do I do now?!” he groans, sliding dramatically down into the cushions. “Do I sit normally? Offer you a ring? Should I faint? Do people faint romantically anymore?!”

“Mark—”

“I’m spiraling,” he moans, draping his arm over his face like he’s in the final scene of a tragic play. “You said it so casually. That was so unfair.”

You circle around to the front of the couch and settle yourself into his lap, straddling him like it’s second nature. He stiffens beneath you, lips parting slightly—like your weight on him just activated some buried instinct.

You tilt your head, playful. “If I said it again… would you survive?”

“Absolutely not.”

You lean in, close enough to feel his breath catch, your mouth brushing the shell of his ear.

“Thanks, baby.”

Mark’s brain stopped working.

His body locks up. Shoulders tense. Jaw slack. You swear you can hear his heartbeat from across the room.

His hands grips your waist, hard and instinctive, like he’s afraid the moment will vanish if he doesn’t hold onto it. His head drops back with a soft, helpless whimper — the kind he’d deny with every breath in his body later, but can’t suppress now.

“I’m not okay,” he breathes, eyes fluttering shut. “You’ve ruined me. Say it again.”

You’re still laughing, shoulders shaking, when his hand comes up and gently wraps around your wrist, pulling you closer— not rough, not demanding, just desperate.

Like he doesn’t even know what he’s doing. Like he just needs to feel you to know this is real.

“Say it again,” he pants, pupils blown wide. “I need to know it wasn’t an accident.”

You shrug, smirk curling at your lips. “It was an accident.”

“Liar,” he whispers.

His arms wrap around you tight, locking you in place. “You said it like you meant it.”

You pause. The laugh dies in your throat. Because something about the way he says it—quiet. steady. awestruck—makes your pulse stutter.

You drop your eyes to his lips. Your fingers are on his chest now, feeling the rapid thrum of his heart under your palm.

“You like it when I call you that, baby?”

His breath shudders. His grip on your waist tightens— like he can barely hold himself back.

You see the shift in his eyes. The air between you shifts—turns weighty, electric. Mark leans in, just enough that his nose brushes yours. He breathes you in.

The room suddenly feels warmer, your clothes feel suffocating.

“Don’t say that,” he warns, voice rough. “Unless you want me to lose control.”

You grin, tilting your hips against his.

“Maybe I do want you to lose control.”

That undoes him.

He grips your thighs, hard, and flips you underneath him in one swift, desperate motion. Your back hits the cushions with a soft thump, stealing your breath before you can even think.

His body hovers above yours, warm and tense and trembling.

He moves before he even thinks—

No more softness. No teasing.

His mouth crashes into yours like he needs to consume you— tongue licking into your mouth like he needs to taste the word baby right off your tongue.

His hands are already under your shirt, sliding up your stomach, dragging the fabric with them.

He groans into your mouth when he feels your bare skin— feels you tremble.

His lips leave yours, trailing down your jaw to the curve of your neck to your collarbone.

“You don’t get to say that and act innocent,” he growls, nipping at your skin.

His fingers slide down, skimming just above the waistband of your shorts— not quite dipping beneath, just teasing the edge.

“You’re fucking soaked through your shorts and I haven’t even touched you.”

You gasp, hips jerking.

“Want me to behave?” he hisses. “When you’re like this?”

You whimper.

He pulls back just enough to look at you—his hair falling into his eyes, lips flushed, chest rising and falling like he just ran a mile.

“You trust me?” he asks again, but this time it’s a whisper against your lips.

His fingers pause at the waistband of your shorts.

You nod, breathless. “Yes.”

You shift against him, guiding his hand lower. “I want this.”

He shoves your shorts down with one rough tug— underwear too— not even bothering to fully take them off.

He slides his hand between your legs, fingers slipping through your folds, achingly slow.

He groans the second he feels it.

“Jesus fuck,” he breathes.

His eyes flick up to yours, hazy and dazed.

“You’re dripping. Did that word really get you this wet, baby?”

You can’t answer. Can’t even think.

Your head drops back, and your hips lift instinctively into his hand.

He doesn’t rush.

He takes his time with you— running his fingers along your slit, collecting your slick and dragging it up in slow, lazy circles around your clit.

You jolt beneath him, letting out a broken noise. Somewhere between a gasp and a whimper.

“Greedy already?” he murmurs, voice hot against your skin. “Thought you didn’t do pet names.”

“Mark—fuck—please—”

“Oh, please now?” he teases. “Begging so sweet already. What if I make you say it again?”

He leans in, lips brushing your ear. “Say it.”

You gasp.

“Baby.”

He groans—deep and guttural—like he’s unraveling from the inside out.

Then he sinks one finger into you.

Your back arches. Your walls clench instantly, the stretch rips a cry from your lips, and he watches—entranced.

His eyes are dark, locked on the way your body opens up for him, your mouth parting, breath stuttering.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he murmurs, his mouth brushing your pulse. “Say it when I’m inside you.”

He starts to move—slow thrusts, deep and rhythmic. Each push of his finger drags a little moan out of you.

He curls his finger just right—presses deep and up—

and you gasp, hands scramble at his hoodie, digging into the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

His second finger slides in beside the first. He drags his fingers just right, slow and deliberate, making your stomach clench. His palm grinds against your clit every time he thrusts.

The wet sounds of your pussy echo with every stroke.

“You hear that?” he growls. “You’re so wet I can fucking hear it, baby. That’s all you. All for me.”

You cry out, hips lifting to grind into his hand.

Mark’s eyes are wild. Possessive.

He watches you like you’re unraveling just for him— like your pleasure is the only thing that exists.

“Mark—oh my god—don’t stop—”

He doesn’t. His fingers move faster now, smoother. Purposeful. Pressing again at that spot.

Your thighs tremble. Your breath comes in shallow gasps. Every nerve feels tight, like a bowstring ready to snap.

He laughs, low and breathless, and kisses your neck, open-mouthed and hungry.

“Gonna cum on my fingers?” he breathes, curling them again. Dragging his palm over your clit in steady circles as his fingers fuck you deep. “Gonna fall apart just from my hand?”

You can’t answer. You’re too close. Too far gone.

“Say it again,” he breathes, lips brushing your jaw. “Let me hear it.”

“Baby—fuck, I’m—”

He groans, deep and broken, like it cracked something open inside him.

He’s gone. No hesitation. No holding back—just raw, hungry need as his fingers move faster.

“That’s it,” he pants. “Just like that—baby, fuck—cum for me— let me feel it.”

Your breath catches.

One more stroke like and—

You break.

The orgasm hits so hard it steals the breath from your lungs. Your whole body jolts—back arching, legs locking around his hand. A cry rips from your throat, loud and raw.

Your walls pulse around his fingers as he fucks you through it, stroking you with deep, steady thrusts—like he wants to memorize every twitch, every moan.

“Holy fuck,” he whispers.

“That’s so fucking hot—baby, fuck,” he moans, like he feels it in his soul.

He doesn’t stop until your hips twitch and you go soft beneath him, whimpering from the sensitivity.

Then he slows, easing out of you with soaked fingers, his eyes drinking you in like he’s never seen anything more divine.

He sits back on his knees, eyes raking over you like he can’t believe what just happened. You’re a mess—hair damp, skin flushed, eyes glassy. Your chest rises and falls in shallow, shaky breaths — like your body’s still chasing the echo of his touch.

Mark exhales hard, staring at his wet fingers, trembling slightly — Then at you. Then—

without a word he brings his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean

One by one. Slow. Obscene. Eyes never leaving yours.

You make a sound you didn’t know you were capable of, and he smirks.

He leans in, presses a kiss to your temple.

Then one to your cheek.

Then your lips—soft now, careful.

“You have no idea what you just did to me,” he breathes.

You smile, dazed and wrecked. “You’re dramatic.”

He shakes his head slowly, eyes locked on yours.

“No. I’m obsessed.”

You groan, hiding your face in his hoodie. He laughs, warm and breathless, as he leans down and presses a kiss to the crown of your head.

He lowers himself beside you on the couch, pulling you into his chest like something precious. Like he’s afraid if he lets go, this whole night will vanish into smoke.

The silence between you now isn’t awkward. It’s heavy in a good way. Thick with something neither of you wants to say out loud yet. So instead, he just holds you.

For a long moment, the only sound is the soft thrum of the TV. Your breathing syncs with his.

Then — quietly, tentatively — he speaks again.

“Baby,” he says again, like a prayer. Like a confession. “I’m gonna make you say that every time I touch you.”

You bury your face in his neck, body still tingling.

“You broke me. I’m changed. That word will haunt me—in the best way,” he says, grinning.

You curl into his chest, breath syncing with his, safe in the warmth of his arms. Your fingers trace idle circles over his chest, hidden beneath the cotton of his hoodie. Slow and aimless. He holds you tighter and breathes you in, like he doesn’t want to let go.

“Say it again,” he whispers into your hair.

You blink. Look up.

“Not for sex,” he murmurs. “Not to mess with me. Just… say it.”

He looks at you like he’s holding his breath. Like he’s asking for a secret. A promise.

You lift your hand to his face, fingers brushing his jaw, gentle. He turns into your touch instinctively.

And you say it.

Soft. Sure. No teasing this time.

“I love you, baby.”

Mark exhales — a sound that’s almost a laugh, almost a sob. Like relief, like peace.

Like he can’t believe you’re real.

Like you just gave him the world with one small word—

The one word he thought he’d never hear.

Baby.

#mark lee smut #mark smut #nct #nct smut #nct 127 #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #mark lee #nct mark #mark fluff #mark lee fluff #mark lee au #nct x reader #mark lee x reader #mark x reader #mark x you #nct mark smut #nct mark fluff

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rjunhuang · 2 days ago

Text

juliet, o juliet ✰ tim drake

pairing: tim drake x reader

summary: tim gets grounded so you take it upon yourself to get him out. the problem? he doesn't want to leave — he just wants you.

warnings: lowercase intended. fem reader. established relationship. reader is also a vigilante. making out. suggestive. tim is red robin. mention of jason's death. clingy tim.

note: i am his biggest fan. i felt so sinful writing them just MAKING OUT — must be the ace in me. fuck knows how old tim is in current canon but i imagine they're like nineteen in this. also, viet/wasian tim is so real to me — whenever people mention his blue eyes i get jumpscared.

divider by omi-resources | comments & reblogs are appreciated! <3

tim drake had always been the voice of reason.

being reckless was not in his nature. he was wired for precision and hypothesis. out of all his teammates, young justice or anywhere else, he was least likely to mess things up due to carelessness. in fact, tim drake cared too much.

it was exactly why he put himself on the frontlines this time — for the sake of the mission. for the safety of his team. if anyone needed to harmed, let it be him.

and while the mission ended in a success with red robin unscathed, bruce did not like what he came to hear. maybe it was the jason trauma kicking in, but bruce didn’t need his children playing the role of martyr.

so, for the first time in long while, tim was grounded.

no outings. no patrolling. no you.

his brothers took great pleasure in seeing the wayne child, whose image was all about being ‘orderly’, sulk in the confines of his bedroom. tim attempted to slip away many times, but living under a roof filled with security systems and other super-spies, it was harder to escape than arkham asylum in comparison. little damian had no problem reporting to their father if tim’s foot made it even a centimeter past the front door.

lucky for tim, he had a girlfriend who shared a mind of his own. breaking into the wayne manor was difficult — this was batman’s sanctuary, after all. you’d almost gotten your butt fried when hopping past a high voltage trip wire.

truthfully, you didn’t need to be doing all of this. you had access to most, if not every, part of the estate. you even had your assigned room there, whenever you decided to stay over. you were associated to the bats as closely as stephanie brown or barbara gordon. nevertheless, the idea of forcing your way into a place you could practically call your home sounded incredibly appealing for what was a dull wednesday night.

tim only noticed you perched out his windowsill when he heard a small tap on the glass, forcing him to peel his eyes away from his laptop. his personal laptop, of course — bruce knew tim’s biggest hobby was scrolling through the system files to crack any cases.

“nuh-uh.” tim begun to vigorously shake his head. “no. nope.” he pushed himself out of his chair, walking over to the window. “get out.” he hissed lowly, like he was shooing away a stray cat, fanning his hands. to be fair, you did look like one with the cheshire’s grin you held. when he realised you couldn't hear him through the glass, he unlatched it, leaving a crack wide.

tim’s reaction hadn’t faltered you in the slightest. you saw it coming, in fact. if bruce happened to catch you in his room — which was very possible — tim would be blessed to be un-grounded before thirty.

you took the open window as a chance to push your way into his room. your hop was light, feet soundless on the rich wooden floors. it’s been near a week since you’ve last seen your boyfriend. the longest separation since the time you met at the ripe age of fourteen. tim, who had all the strength to do so, doesn’t make an attempt to keep you out. despite all his protests, he was missing you a lot more than he currently let on.

you don’t pay mind to a single word he’s whisper-yelled. instead, planting your hands on his face, diving in to give him a gentle greet on the lips. he couldn’t say a damn thing once your lips landed on his.

his hands automatically found their usual position on your hips, instinctively pulling you closer as he kissed back. he was dying of withdrawal, his body reacted to you like he needed air. the kiss left you giddy, but you managed to pull yourself back before any one of you could lose the plot. staying put in tim’s hold, you asked, “sneak out with me?”

“this is a horrible idea—“ he muttered in a hushed tone. it was evident how badly he wanted to run away with you.

“oh, come on,” you begun, “he’s your dad. he’ll come around to forgive you a lot more easily than you think.” the tips of your fingers brush against tim’s pale face, pining the mere touch of him. it was a deal with the devil — for you were letting your heart get to you and not your head.

but, dammit. how did you making everything so enticing? you were a temptation that he absolutely could not resist.

with a groan, he leaned into your touch. he didn’t want to admit it out loud but he was caving. “he’s already pissed that i went against orders. this’ll just piss him off more,” he protested weakly, despite knowing that he was about to give into you anyway.

“please?” you pleaded, with a weak attempt of what people called ‘puppy eyes’. you leaned in closer to brush your lips against his. “i miss you.”

you had him wrapped around your damn finger — the second those three words left your lips, it was over. his will to resist was crumbling by the second. tim sighed, giving your lower lip a small and playful bite. “you’re the bane of my existence.”

you raised your eyebrows. “isn’t that a bridgerton quo—“ your comment is smothered by another kiss.

tim’s hands shifted to your thighs to lift you up, guiding you to wrap your legs around his waist. he pressed you against the wall of his room, returning the kiss with fervor. his fingers curled into the fabric of your clothes, clinging to you tightly. “shut up and kiss me.” he breathed against your lips.

your bodies are reacting before your brains do. clearly, the days spent apart had been driving tim up a wall as well. “wait, wait, wait.” you giggled against his lips, “we’re supposed to be sneaking out, not making out.”

tim only groaned when you interrupted the kiss, burying his face into your shoulder. he was so close to completely abandoning the idea of sneaking off to just kiss you until the sun came up. “c’mon,” he whined, “sneaking out is overrated, let’s just stay here and make out instead.”

“gods— you are such an introvert.” said the other introvert — yourself. you rested your head against the wall, absentmindedly playing with the black tufts of hair on tim’s nape. his eyes fluttered momentarily at the feeling of you playing with hair, a small, content hum rumbling in the back of his throat. “i really wanted to go for the whole romeo and juliet aesthetic. except, i’m romeo and i’m trying to get you out and have your father’s approval.”

he raised his head to roll his eyes in an overdramatic effect, though a smile pulled at the corner of his lips while listening to your rambling. “you do know they both die at the end, right?” he teased before pressing another kiss against your collarbone, trailing his lips up towards your jaw. “besides, you’d be the worst romeo,” he said with a gentle nip.

“what?” you dramatically yelped, offended. “would not. i’d totally drink poison for you, or however the play goes. juliet, oh, juliet — let down your hair.”

the sudden and rather loud outburst had tim immediately cupping a hand over your mouth, muffling your next sing-song remarks. “be. quiet,” he said with a small laugh. “you’ll get us caught, dumbass.” he couldn’t help but shake his head slightly. “see? terrible romeo, i’m doing all the work.”

but you weren’t really listening anymore, your eyes narrowing into a knowing, dirty-minded look. the smirk you were currently sporting was enough for tim to get the message. the small smile on his face betrayed the false annoyance, “pervert.” he mumbled, lowering his hand from your mouth to rest it on your hip instead.

“you like this pervert.”

“not the words that come out of that mouth.”

“i can think of other ways to use this mouth.”

“oh, yeah?”

“i can use it,” you paused for dramatic effect, and in a blink, you’re swinging off of tim’s grip, “to eat a good ol’ hotdog at our nearest bodega.” you said the line like a narrator straight out a 60’s commercial.

“you little—“ he started, his hand flailing outwards in a pathetic attempt to grab you again. you snickered at his reaction, too busy collecting your backpack that you slipped off in passing earlier. tim was still pouting like a child as he slumped back against the wall. you took a step closer and swung an arm across his shoulder, dragging him with you to his window.

“a shitty pizza slice sounds so good right now.” he couldn’t help but let out a soft snort of laughter at your excitement for shitty bodega pizza.

tim’s only response was to let out a small smile, muttering, “alright, let’s go get our shitty pizza, then—”

#— rika's works.#tim drake x reader #tim drake x you #tim drake x y/n #tim drake #imagine #x reader #reader insert #fanfic #dc comics #dc

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serenity-loves-red · 12 hours ago

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Cat distribution system featuring Phainon.

In which• The Deliverer of Amphoreus is suddenly transported to your home as a cat.

Ever since seeing those cat memes and cat videos on tiktok, you could say that you’ve never been this keen on wanting to have a cat for yourself.

But no matter how much you want to have one, you just can’t. Well for 2 reasons actually, first is that the place you are staying do not allow having pets and the second is that, well college is expensive and it’s already hard to feed yourself 3 times a day. What’s more if you have a cat to feed and take care, no?

Does that stop you? Yes obviously.

But if you happen to see a cat in a card box just outside your door, would you bring it inside? Yes you would? I mean why not? Isn’t this the famous cat distribution system?

So that’s how you got yourself a cat. Forget that ‘No pets allowed.’ rule. Who says no to those cute big blue eyes of his. You’re not kicking this cutie away, ok!

Phainon knew that there are many worlds outside Amphoreus. He dreams on seeing those worlds beyond the sky as where the Nameless travels to and from after the crisis of his world is solved.

What he didn’t expect is to wake up to a world so different from his own as a cat! From being an esteemed Chrysos Heir to a small, fluffy feline.

During his first week staying with you, he learned few things about you and this world.

You’re a hardworking individual that lives alone and is studying in college. Which he believes to be an institution equivalent of the Grove from his world. You also seem to have money problems, he noticed.

I mean who wouldn’t if the first thing he heard from you when you first met is: “Is that a freakin’ Ragdoll? A weird way to answer my prayers but damn. I can barely feed myself.”

You also love to spoil him with tuna. You like to carry him and give him cuddles, pats and kisses here and there. He likes them too so he just lets you.

And sometimes he noticed you playing games on your phone teleslate. But wait that-

That looks oddly similar to his world. And isn’t that Mydei?!!

Just what world did he ended up with?

“Phainon you can step on me and I’ll even say thank you.”

*scared meow*

#hsr #hsr x reader #phainon x reader #isekai #honkai star rail #phainon #gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x reader

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waitingandwishing · 1 day ago

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Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Word Count: 2k "𝖫𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌, 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌" ━━ Ever since you were a kid, all you wanted was to be cared for.

You hummed under your breath as you walked down the street with a packet of dried fruit. It was odd, usually you never craved fruit like this, but this week seemed to be different.

As you walked down the oddly lonely street, an unnaturally blue color down an alleyway caught your eye. You turned your head only to see nothing there once again. You dug your hand into the bag, eyes still on the alleyway, and chewed another piece.

A bird suddenly flew down at your feet, looking at you with a little hat perched on its head. You knelt down, tilting your head to the side. It followed with its yellow eyes suddenly bursting into three. You grimaced, backing up.

You looked back up to see another pair of round yellow eyes staring back at you from the alleyway. Was the fruit getting to your head? The yellow eyes moved forward, appearing in the sunlight to reveal itself. It was a… Giant blue tiger?

You hesitated before walking forward, causing the bird to fly away. “Hi?” You spoke, reaching your hand out to pet it. It eyed your hand, frog-blinking before rubbing into it. “Aww… Hi…” Your tone changed from confused to soft in a matter of seconds. “You’re so cuuute.”

“I know.” A familiar said behind you. Although you couldn’t see his face, you could tell his face was smug.

You turned to see Jinu standing with his hands in his pocket. You leaned on your hip, the smile on your face replaced with a serious look. “What are you doing?”

“Just… Talking. I was planning on meeting you last night but you kind of…” He pointed to the bruise on his face and the cuts on his cheek.

You pursed your lips, yeah you really did rough him up… You did feel bad. He wasn’t exactly planning on killing Rumi right? And you trusted her judgement on deciding not to kill him while he was monologuing. And just because he was annoying didn’t mean that he deserved to be roughed up like that right?

You sighed internally. This was just like you. Oh! I wanna punch this guy, but then you hurt him and all of a sudden feel bad? Ugh… Your emotions always made you do things that contradicted them.

“Sorry… About that.” You said, rubbing the back of your neck with a guilty expression before clearing your throat. “What were you doing with Rumi?”

“I saw her markings.” Jinu said, “And I know you have them too.”

“How did you know that?” You asked. You doubted that Rumi would’ve told him, and no one else knew, not even Celine.

“I… You really don’t remember me?” Jinu asked.

“Of course I do? We literally fought yesterday.” You blinked, well, maybe this guy wasn’t an evil demon, but he was definitely… Crazy.

“Right, of course.” Jinu nodded, clearing his throat. The two of you stared at each other, the silence even more awkward with his cat rubbing on your legs.

You smiled immediately, scratching the cat’s ear. It surprisingly purred at the movement, his eyes closed with a smile on his face. You laughed, cupping the cat’s face.

Jinu watched you with wonder, staring at you with a slightly dazed look. You were so… Pretty. Perfect. It had been so long since he’d heard laughter that wasn’t careful or performative. Yours was small, sudden, almost like you regretted letting it escape. He didn’t. He wanted to make you laugh again.

You cleared your throat, looking at Jinu. “The only reason why I haven’t killed you right now is because… I heard what you had said. About your family… And your lover.”

“I understand how it is to care about people. I guess I sort of… Understand why you sacrificed your soul for that.” You said. You couldn’t believe what you were doing! It was stupid to try and understand, you knew that. Not because you didn’t mean it but because you did. “But if you ever think about using Rumi or mine’s secret against us, I won’t hesitate on killing you.”

“... Right.” Jinu swallowed. You didn’t remember him but… He remembered you. That was what counted right? This kindness you had knew no bounds. Even when you hated him. He’d rather have any connection with you then no connection at all.

He watched as you turned away, giving one last pet to the tiger. Derpy (Yes, I believe the tiger's name is Derpy) made a noise of discomfort, standing up from his sitting position to follow you before looking back at Jinu. Depry let out a grumble, sitting down on the ground almost like a child crossing their arms and pouting.

“It’s okay. We’ll meet her next time.” Jinu said, stroking Derpy’s head as his bird flew down and landed on his shoulder.

- - -

“You know you’ll never beat us. Your plan will never work. We’re gonna…” Mira and Zoey both said before mumbling. You groaned alongside the two of them.

“This is… Really bad.” You said. Anxiety was creeping into you, not just because the Idol Awards was coming soon and you guys had no idea how to write this song, but also because Jinu now knew yours and Rumi’s secret.

“We only have to write the best diss track ever to crush the Idol Awards, or there’ll be a demon apocalypse.” Mira said sarcastically, flopping onto the bean bag and throwing three darts that landed on Jinu’s face perfectly.

“Yeah! We gotta get up close and insult their stupid faces!” Zoey said, crawling from her chair to the floor. “Their nasty, disgusting, not beautiful… Perfectly dewy, symmetrical, shimmering…”

“Zoey…” You sighed.

“Okay, enough! I’m taking these down!” Mira finalized, ripping off the multiple posters and pictures of the Saja Boys. “Just like how we’re gonna take down these boys!”

“Take down?” You muttered, turning to Rumi who perked up at the word.

“Takedown!” Rumi stood, “That’s the song! It’s a takedown!”

“So sweet, so easy on the eyes…” Zoey started, thinking hard as you came up beside her. “But hideous on the inside.”

“Nice.” Mira nodded.

“You like it?” Zoey asked excitedly.

“Sounds great, Zoey!” You complimented, to which she practically jumped for joy at.

“Whole life spreading lies but you can’t hide…” Mira declared.

“Baby, nice try.” You finished.

“Woah, that’s sounding good.” Mira smiled, crossing her arms.

Rumi nodded, finding the rhythm of the song. “I’m ‘bout to switch up these vi-” She coughed, her voice suddenly giving out. “Sorry guys.”

“No, take it easy.” Zoey placed her hand on Rumi’s forearm.

“Yeah, rest that voice for Idol Awards.” Mira reassured her.

“I’m sure your voice’ll be better in a few days, Rumi.” You nodded, “After all, Huntrix wouldn’t be Huntrix without you!”

The three of you sat down, now brainstorming the background music and more of the lyrics.

“You think this is good?” You asked before repeating the lyrics you wrote down, “'Cause I see your real face and it's ugly as sin. Time to put you in your place 'cause you're rotten within’?”

“Yes! Ohhh I love that!” Zoey nodded, “And then we could add, ‘When your patterns start to show, it makes the hatred wanna grow outta my veins’?”

“I like that.” Mira nodded. You and Rumi exchanged glances before nodding. Was this hypocritical of the two of you? That you were talking about their patterns but had ones of your own?

No… No because this was technically about themes stealing others souls. You and Rumi haven’t hurt or killed anyone in your lives.

“Oh! How about ‘A demon with no feelings. Doesn’t deserve to live’?” Mira suggested excitedly.

“It’s so obvious!” Zoey said.

“That could be what comes after. That it’s obvious what they’re doing?” You suggested.

“Yesss! Oh this song is gonna crush them!” Mira wrote down the lyrics onto her piece of paper, the three of you doing the same as well.

All of a sudden, a pink pulsing echoed throughout the studio and you all exchanged glances. You nodded, leaving the studio and quickly going after the demons. You’d be able to figure out the song once this next wave was done.

- - -

“All right, team, I know everything is all Saja, Saja, Saja but we’re gonna turn it into Huntrix, Huntrix, Huntrix! Yay!” Bobby said, his jazz hands adding a bit of flair to his words. “These fans slept on the sidewalk, overnight!”

“Thanks, Bobby.” You smiled as he tapped away on his phone. You turned to the three of them, lifting up your pen.

“Happy fans, happy Honmoon!” The four of you cheered before separating.

“Let’s bring them in! Welcome.” Bobby announced. A wave of fans dressed in purple came through the door, all practically running to see you.

You smiled at the amount of people that had come. You didn’t know that this many people really liked Huntrix. Well, you did, but you weren’t expecting to see it fully. You usually didn’t attend many signings like this.

“Hey, hey, single file, no pushing.” Bobby said to the five people dressed in sleeping bags.

“And who should I make this out to?” Rumi asked.

“‘To our biggest fans.’”

The sleeping bags piled to the floor, revealing the Saja Boys. “It’s the Saja Boys!” The crowd murmured, clearly excited by the second Kpop group.

The four of you groaned, glaring at them with a very reasonable amount of anger. “It is an honor.” Bobby smiled before yelling, “Table, now!”

As soon as the table was set down, half the crowd went to where the Saja Boys were signing. You and Rumi exchanged glances, realizing the stakes. You stood up, a soft smile hiding the annoyance underneath. “THe Saja Boys can sit with us!” You said, “We wouldn’t mind.”

“What? Y/N!”

“Y/N, what are you doing?”

“We need all the fans we can get.” You said, Rumi nodding in agreement. Security pushed the table next to yours, causing the fans to go back into their original line.

Jinu sat down on your right, leaning in close. Uncomfortably close. Rumi eyed you, you glanced at her before nodding. She paused for a moment before nodding as well and going back to signing her posters.

“I didn’t think you liked sharing.” Jinu said, resting his head on his hand.

“There are some things that I’m fine with sharing.” You said, turning to the fan in front of you and giving them a smile as well as a signed poster.

Jinu opened his mouth to retort before quickly closing it. He was going to mention your secret, but he knew you. You never really liked going back on your word. And when people you cared about were in the mix, he was sure you’d actually kill him.

He turned to Rumi, talking to her for a moment. You eyed the two of them, scoffing before pausing. For some reason, you didn’t feel like being around them anymore. Something about them talking to each other rubbed you the wrong way? You must’ve been irritated about something happening earlier this week. Why does it feel like there’s something wrong with you then? You must’ve been stressed too.

You breathed in, calming yourself as you handed out another signed poster. “Hello!” You smiled at four girls standing before you. Jinu turned back towards you, watching how easily you could mask your annoyance. He guessed that some things never changed.

“Hi!” The four of them waved. “We actually, uh have something for you!”

“Oh, really? You didn’t have to.” You smiled. The four of them handed you a letter with their names signed on it. “Thank you girls so much.” You signed the poster with their names and handed it to them.

You loved fans that were like this. You enjoyed reading their letters, minus the creepy ones, and seeing how much of an impact you made on them. As they walked off, you turned to see Jinu staring at you. “What?” You asked.

“Nothing.” He turned back, giving out a signed poster of himself to a fan. “And here I thought we’d be getting along after our last meeting.”

“I’m not trying to associate myself with someone who’s helping Gwi-Ma.” You accused, handing out another poster.

“I’m helping myself.” Jinu fumed. “He’s promised to erase my memories, and those voices in my head will be gone.”

“Are you whispering?” A fan suddenly asked. The two of you glanced at each other before quickly signing a poster and handing it off to them.

“Your secret’s safe with me.” She said, pointing to her shirt. You blinked before giving her a tense smile as she walked off. You forgot how weird fans could be sometimes.

“Just because Gwi-Ma is erasing all your memories doesn’t mean you won’t keep your shame. It’ll still be there.” You challenged, now staring directly at him, “Have you ever considered that the shame of hurting others because of your own selfish desires is the real reason you're a demon?”

Jinu widened his eyes, a flash of recognition appearing across his face. He’d heard that line before. He’s heard you say it time and time again which meant that on the inside, you were still you.

“Excuse me, Mr. Jinu.” A voice snapped him out of his staring, causing him and you to turn to a little girl standing before you. “I made this for you.” She said, lifting up a piece of paper.

“Uh, for me?” He asked, taking the sheet of paper and looking over it with a surprising amount of care.

You smiled at the cute girl before turning to Jinu, “You really wanna be working for a demon who wants to end a world that she’s living in?”

Jinu paused, the cheers going deaf to his ears. He glanced at you, longing evident, before looking at his drawing once again.

You clapped alongside the crowd, “Woo Jinu.” You said, laughing at his expression. He looked so similar to a lost puppy.

Rumi followed your movements, clapping alongside you as well, “Give it up for Jinu!” She clapped.

The crowd cheered louder, bouquets of flowers being thrown at the Saja Boys. Mira leaned forward, catching you and Rumi’s cheering. “‘Give it up for Jinu’?” She repeated with a raised eyebrow.

“Unfortunately, the Saja Boys have to run. Thank you, everyone.” Jinu announced, his hand tightening around the drawing as the Saja Boys exited the stage.

You let out a breath. Why was Jinu’s presence so suffocating? You could feel him everywhere and it seemed like every time HUntrix went out for anything the Saja Boys were there. Was he tracking your guys’ movements?

Bobby came up with his phone, a grand smile on his face as he showed you, Zoey, and Mira the new posts on Instagram. “The Internet loves this, and the internet is never wrong!” He said, scrolling through the feed. “Y/N x Jinu! I don’t know what fanfiction is but it sounds important! Zoeystery. Where did they come up with that?”

“Miro-mabby?” Mira gritted her teeth.

“Aw, you’re so cute together!” Zoey awed. You stared at the feed before rubbing your temples. You were too tired to do this…

(A/N: What if I told ya'll I'm making another verse for Y/N?)

taglist: @the-bookish-artist @nisarelle @iviorienne @justanindiangirl12 @t4naiis @usuallyunlikelyfox @livsh20

#fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #jinu x reader #rumi x reade #kdh x reader #kpdh x reader #kpop demon hunters #kpop demon hunters x reader #huntrix #saja boys #mira #zoey #rumi #jinu #gwi-ma #korean #kpop

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t-a-a-1 · 2 days ago

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To Fall In Love For A Prime

Summary: Optimus realizes he is falling in love with you.

1.4k words. Optimus x Female Reader

Optimus had an instinct.

Some instics are more peculiar than others. He noticed that his own actions did not match the rational thoughts in his processor.

He made sure to be kind to everyone. To treat each individual with respect.

But he noticed that things were different with you.

Once, you had mentioned your interest in poetry. The next couple of days, Optimus spent day and night trying to retrieve from Iacon’s old DataNet, poems written by the great authors of Cybertron. He spent more time trying to translate them.

And when he was ready to show you, to recite to you … He couldn’t.

You looked at him with those eyes of yours and his processor stopped working.

He walked away and till this day he regrets saying anything.

“Optimus and I … Well, we are not really close. I don’t think he likes me very much.”

Although it was true that he kept a distance, he didn’t think you would wake this negatively. The only reason why he doesn’t speak much to you is because his mind goes completely blank whenever he is near you. Because your eyes shine so brightly that he can’t help but stare at them. He is quiet because nothing he could say could compare to listening to your voice. Optimus much prefers to just listen to you and see your face. Even if it's from afar.

But how can he tell you that?

How can he speak to you when he just can’t?

“Oh, it’s raining a lot,” you say as you try to cover your head. “I am sorry. You probably have better things to do than being here.”

Your car had broken down and Optimus was the first one to come to your rescue. An act you didn’t understand since you thought he disliked you … Just a little.

It would have been better to wait inside your car but seeing that it was letting out smoke and you didn’t want to explode, you decided to wait outside just in case.

Optimus is quiet, as he usually is when he is near you. You don’t understand why as he is very much talkative to the rest of the group.

“You know, if you have more important things to do, you can alway leave–”

Suddenly, the rain doesn’t touch your head anymore. With one servo, Optimus covers your entire body, protecting you.

You look up at him, your mouth a bit opened.

“Are you … harmed?”

You feel your heart beat faster and suddenly, the need to look away overpower your senses. Flustered, you didn’t understand why all of a sudden your body feels warm.

“No, I am fine, thank you for asking!”

You say that too loudly and you become more embarrassed by the simple sound of your voice.

Optimus doesn’t say another word and it keeps raining. A few seconds passed and you take the courage to look at Optimus again.

And he looks at you.

Blue optics meet your eyes.

And you look away again.

“You know, maybe you can just change to your vehicle form and I can wait inside until the towing truck comes? You know, just so you don’t get caught.”

He did as you said.

And it was the first time he let someone inside his vehicle form.

It was … a beautiful experience.

Optimus wonders how you were able to trust him so easily. Your small body, surrounded by all of him. He felt your fingers touch the Autobot emblem on the steering wheel. Your soft skin was able to touch every crack, dent and small space that he thought he lacked sensibility.

Turns out he is just like a big old cat that loves to be pet.

And in completely quietness, he enjoyed the silence.

You noticed this too. And although you wanted to ask him if he could be the one to pull your car to save you money, you didn’t want to interrupt the peaceful moment.

And as days passed, Optimus began to wonder about other things.

What things did you like? Was your job of your liking? Did you have an interest in anyone?

Would you ever consider a Cybertronian as a romantic partner?

He wants to believe that the reason why that question lingers in his mind is due to mere curiosity.

That has to be it. Why else would it be?

It’s not like he wishes for your affections to be reserved just for him. It’s not like he saw you talking to a co-worker and suddenly felt the need to interrupt and take you away from him.

Because only he can look at your face and wonder what kind of gods created such delicate art? Only he can wonder why he can’t speak to you when you look at him in the optics.

Only he can have sleepless nights thinking of what it would be like to have your lips on his intake.

Not because he was delusional and thought of the possibility of having a human-cybertronian relationship.

It was mere curiosity because humans seemed to have a hyperfixation on interspecies relationships. He knew because of all the human media he had consumed, not because he wanted to relate to something, of course not. It's all pure research.

That has to be it.

“(Reader) protected the datapad with her life. We are not sure why, she probably thought it was important. But she will be fine.”

It was Optimus’s datapad.

You lay on the medical berth as Optimus rushed to your side as soon as he heard the news.

His mind is already punishing him for not being there when the Decepticons attacked you, for not arriving in time, for not doing his job to protect you.

What a worthless piece of mech he is.

Unworthy of any type of connection. He should have known. Oh, he should have known from the start. How stupid he was to believe he could ever–

“Optimus,” Ratchet interrupts his thoughts. “Does your datapad contain any classified information?”

“No,” he simply says as he looks down at your body. Delicate, hurt but still breathing. “That datapad just contained … poetry.”

At seeing his friend’s desperate optics on you, he felt as if he was interrupting an intimate moment between the two of you.

“I’ll leave you two alone.”

With that Ratchet left.

Optimus didn’t look at Ratchet leave the medical room, his optics only focused on you. He took the freedom to use one of his metal fingers to touch your hair. He found himself trembling, scared, terrified at the thought … the simple thought that maybe today you wouldn’t be here with him.

He lets out a glitch sound as his vents exhale in an exasperating way.

You slowly start to regain consciousness and you are blessed to see Optimus in front of you. Although you wish he looked happier.

“The datapad,” you say in a soft voice. “I am sorry, I am sorry, it broke while I–”

“You have nothing to apologize for, my Spark,” the name came out so naturally from his intake that he didn’t even realize he had said it. “It’s me who should apologize.”

“But you always wrote on that datapad, it was important to you and I–”

“You are important to me,” he says. “The most important individual, my dearest–”

He stops himself, he cannot longer put any burden on you. He’ll be damned if these feelings ever caused you harm again. For Primus, he prefers to die a thousand times if that means all harm from you can be exempted.

And yet, a very, rotten, selfish part of him, can’t believe that you went to such lengths to protect something you thought was precious to him. When in reality, the thing you should be protecting should be yourself.

How selfish of him to be happy at this moment. This moment when you are alive and smiling at him. Hurt but your heart is still beating. The relief cannot compare. Having you here, alive, you.

How selfish–

“Do you wish to know what was in the data pad?” Optimus asks, returning your smile. But in your mind, his smile was the most beautiful of scenes.

You simply nod.

“I know you enjoy poetry so I wanted to introduce you to some Cybertronian writings,” he says. “Do you want me to recite some pieces to you?”

You smile once again at him.

“Yes.”

Very softly, Optimus begins to speak.

A/N: i don’t know where I was going with this but oh whale 🐳 … I have so many drafts …. But I gotta update The Darkest Hour first.

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wordssoonforgotten · 1 day ago

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I was wondering if you could do a jinx x either piltie reader or a reader that works for silco too where jinx falls HARD for this girl but readers oblivious so jinx has to make it very very obvious just some cutesyness

Jinx x Piltoveran!reader. Hope you like! Honestly one of my favorite things I’ve written so far. No content warnings. 735 words.

Jinx is so over Piltoverans.

In all honestly, she'd been over them since birth. It was simply the Zaunite way; but there was one she simply couldn't manage to hate lithe rest. You were like a guilty pleasure, except there was no guilt concerning how she felt at all. The pleasure you gave her was more rebellious than anything. However, that doesn't mean you didn't get on every single one of her nerves.

Jinx has been sneaking to see you for a year. It started as cat-like curiosity turned infatuation, but now, every time you so much as look at her a certain way, she feels herself teetering closer and closer to the edge; dangerously close to falling in love. It's new, exciting, and gives her that rush she thought was only possible from watching something explode. (It almost makes her wants to jump right off, just to see if you catch her.) Much to her annoyance, she wasn't sure if you felt the same way she did.

She likes to think she's making it stupid obvious; laying it on thick every time she comes to see you. With the way you just laugh at her, or simply don't pick up what she puts down, she's beginning to think she's not so good at all. It's either that, or you're infuriatingly slow for someone so smart.

For the second time this week, Jinx has weaseled her way through your window and made herself comfortable in your silky sheets. The two of you sit closely together on the bed as you recount every event of your day to her. You speak so softly that your voice almost gets lost with the wind. She uses it as an excuse to lean closer. Every few sentences, your eyes drift to your bedroom door, as if you expect someone to knocking it down any moment. Despite how long the two of you have gotten away with your late-night-rendezvous, you still get nervous. She tilts her mischievously. Her fingers crawl up shoulder and stop on your chin, turning your head to face her. You blush; but continue talking like normal.

That was her very last straw. She deserved more than simple a blush.

"Soooo….princess. Still not seeing anyone?" She keeps her voice light. Like she doesn't care about the answer at all. You raise your eyebrow at the seemingly out-of-the-blue question. "Not currently. Why?" Jinx smiles with false nonchalance

"Just kinda seemed like you would be by now."

"…Well I'm not."

"Are you interested in seeing someone?"

You snort and shrug your shoulders hopelessly. "Who would I even see?"

"Me." She answers immediately. Your brain short circuits and you just stare at her. For a second she thinks she's broken you, but then you very hesitantly narrow your eyes. "Are you..serious?" She barely manages to hold back a loud snort, but she nods quickly. "Very serious. Most serious I've ever been, actually." You nod slowly as if you're still processing her words so she continues. "I've been serious for a while now, you've just been too dense to notice." Playful frustration fills her tone as you suddenly become more alert. "A while!? How long is a while!?" She doesn't stop the chortle that erupts from her.

"Months."

"Months?!" You shout before quickly covering your mouth and glancing at the door. Once You're sure no one heard, you turn a fierce glare at her. "Why didn't you say anything?!" Now her brain short circuits. She looks at you in hysterical exasperation, shaking her head so quickly you're scared she'll get dizzy. "I've been very-obviously flirting for—this whole time!" You roll your eyes as your face begins to heat up. "Well you should've been clearer."

"I couldn't have been any clearer without tattooing it on my forehead!" She scoffs. "Typical dense, unaware pilties. Never noticing the extremely obvious truths right in front of their dumb faces—" She's cut off by your lips crashing into hers mid Piltover hating tirade. It doesn't take much for her to lean into it, her hands coming up to grip your hair. After a full minute of all but inhaling each other, she comes up for air. "Guess that means the feelings' mutual, huh?" You huff and give her a cheeky smirk.

"See how I made that obvious?"

She flips you off before pulling you back into another, harder kiss.

"I'll work on it."

#jinx clocking Piltover’s tea even if she’s desperately in love with one iktr🤏🏾🤏🏾#jinx x y/n #jinx x female reader #jinx #jinx fluff #jinx x black!fem!reader #jinx x kiramman!reader #jinx x black!reader #jinx x femme!reader #jinx x fem!reader #jinx x reader #jinx x you #arcane x black!fem!reader #arcane x female reader #arcane x black reader #arcane x y/n #arcane x you #arcane jinx #jinx arcane

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verycoolusername1 · 1 day ago

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Draft Day

Summary: You were there for your boyfriend to get drafted, and now it was your turn.

Michael Kesslering x pwhl!reader

Warning! Reader is described to be wearing a suit but other than that, it's gender neutral.

A/N: did I just make this after I saw Ella Huber was drafted and (Matthew)Knies was there for her? Yes, yes I did. (Ironically the pwhl draft is how I found out they were dating cause I recognized her(so pretty how did Knies bag her) she's going to Boston!)

And do not worry, reader is not going to Minnesota(sorry to all the frost fans but they have that one girl on there. I cannot stand her, I do love Maddie Rooney though)

And lowkey I was gonna make some utah players to show up(like Kells and Marino) but in the end it just didn't make sense to me but rest assured. They will be there at the after party or whatever. And I didn't really flat out mention it but you and Michael are high school sweethearts? Idk I just thought it made sense since I mentioned that reader was there for his draft. And I just have no idea if he went to college... but rest assured reader did! I chose Penn State cause it was dream college of mine(before I decided to stay in state)

You were nervous, really nervous. You were sure you were going to combust and explode.

Today was the day of the PWHL Draft, today you were going to get drafted to one of eight teams.

You were sitting in your seat, tapping your knee in a rhythmic pattern with your hand(you only did that when you're nervous).

You arrived with your family and your boyfriend Michael, they were extremely happy for you.

Michael noticed your state and took your hand in his, squeezing it lightly. He looked at you like he always did, with a twinkle in his eyes.

He leaned in and whispered to you. "You're gonna do great."

"You don't know that." You mutter. "I might trip over my shoes when I go up there."

Michael grinned as he held back his laugh. "Well you'd still look amazing as ever, even if you have dirt in your mouth after you trip."

You scoffed at that. "You're an idiot." You tried to hide your smile.

"An idiot that just made you smile." Michael poked your side with a chuckle.

You fidgeting with your suit jacket and let out a shaky exhale. "I'm nervous."

Michael nodded. "Of course you are, you're getting drafted today. It would be totally freaky if you weren't."

You looked over at him. "Why do you have to be so... you?"

"I don't know, I don't really know how to be anybody else." Michael gave you a lopsided grin.

Your expression soften at his words. "Good. Don't change." You nodded.

Your dad noticed the interaction and looked on with a soft look.

"How you feeling kiddo?"

You looked back at your dad. "Like I'm about to throw up."

Your mom laughed. "You're gonna be fine sweetie."

Michael nodded. "You're gonna be fine, dirt in your mouth and all."

You chuckled. "Stop that."

"Speak of the devil, more trouble has just arrived." Your dad gave Michael a knowing look.

"What was that?" You looked between your dad and Michael.

He grinned. "Nothing... just couldn't let you get drafted without our cats."

You looked at Michael as you realized. "Right of course. Our cats."

"Hey, Y/N!" Logan called out, Josh has already ran to you and smothered you into a hug.

"Hey," You mumbled. "Hi to you too Josh."

Josh smiled brightly at you. "You're gonna do great."

"That's what we keep telling them, they just won't listen." Your mom piped up.

"Well it's true. You won't mess anything up because we know you. You hate making mistakes, and I mean absolutely hates it, babe." Michael gave you a look before checking his watch. "We should get seated now, it's about to start."

All of you got seated to your seats. You in the middle of your parents, behind you Logan, Josh, with Micheal on the end.

The draft started several minutes later, your nervousness settled down slightly as you felt Michael's hand on the back of your chair.

It was the end of the first round and Seattle was about to announce their pick.

"With the 8th pick in the 1st round. Seattle selects from Penn State University, defender Y/N L/N."

You swore you felt your heart stop, you could barely register anything before your parents pulled you into a hug(and of course, the boys cheering).

You hugged Logan and Josh, each of them muttering a congratulations and plans to visit when they can during the season.

Michael hugged you tight and kissed your temple. "I love you so much. So proud of you."

He mumbled as he pulled away but not before kissing your temple again, his eyes glistening in the light.

You walked down to the stage, took your draft photo and shook hands with all the staff on Seattle.

You walked down the stairs for your interview.

"Y/N, first of all I just want to congratulations on getting drafted to Seattle." Rob told you. "How does it feel?"

You nodded and chuckled. "It feels amazing, thank you. I'm so excited to get to work down there, it just feels so surreal."

"Yeah it can feel like that sometimes but I'm sure you'll do great." Rob chuckled. "I uh couldn't help but notice, you have the quite the support tonight. How does it feel knowing they came here for you, to watch you follow through with your hockey dream?"

"Oh um yeah, you know it's nice to have their support. My parents, they did almost everything for me so they're probably happy they don't have to buy me another stick." You laughed.

"And my friends, boyfriend. Yeah, it's really nice that they're here too. Means a lot to me. During the off season, I would always make Kess, my boyfriend play against me. Since we're both defenders, we normally just share techniques and such."

"That's really sweet." Rob nodded. "Any players you're excited to see at development camp? What are you really looking for in Seattle?"

"I'm really excited to see Hilary Knight, she's really inspiring and now to be teammates with her is just so amazing." You gushed. "Cayla Barnes as well, terrific defender, would love to see her in action beside me on the ice."

Rob spoke again. "Really good answers. Thank you and once again, congratulations."

You nodded. "Thank you." You headed back to your seat.

You couldn't resist the smile on your face as you made you way back.

Michael was the first one to wrap his arms around you, he picked you up and spun you around. "My baby's going to Seattle!"

You chuckled in his arms. "I'm so excited."

Logan smiled. "You're gonna do amazing there, just don't do amazing or you'll take his job." Josh not so subtlety pointed at Michael.

Michael rolled his eyes and put you back on the ground. "If they really wanted to, they would have done it by now." He slung his arm around your waist, his hand resting on your hip.

You nodded in agreement. "That's true."

Your mom piped and kissed your cheek. "I'm just so happy for you."

Your dad nodded. "Yeah, you're gonna do amazing in Seattle."

You look over at your parents. "I'm gonna miss you guys."

Your mom nodded. "We know, we'll miss you too. You're still our little kid."

"But rest assured, we will be there for your debut kiddo." Your dad ruffled your hair.

"Just don't get into any fights." Josh said. "Kess is already a bad influence on you as it is."

You nodded, knowing well enough that you couldn't attempt to do what Josh wanted even if you tried.

Michael gave Josh a look. "You clearly haven't seen Y/N in college dude."

Couple of hours later, you find yourself curled into Michael's side in bed of your hotel room. Waiting for sleep to catch up to the both of you.

"So, you're going to Seattle." He whispered. "Still can't believe it, you're gonna be so far." He traces his finger on your hip.

"Not that far." You whispered back. "We'll be a couple of hours away."

"I know," Michael mumbled as he looked down at you. "This just feels worse. Now you're going pro and I'll barely be able to see it like you did for mine." He held you tighter.

"It's gonna be okay, Kess." You told him. "We each have our jobs to do that require distance."

Michael stayed silent for a moment before speaking again. "I just don't want you to leave me." His voice grew quieter.

"I'm not going anywhere, no one and I mean no one can replace you. You're my freakish weirdly tall germlin of a boyfriend."

Michael let out a shaky laugh at your words.

"Thanks... for reassuring me."

"Of course, you know I love you." You kissed his chest.

Michael smiled softly. "I love you too. Now we should be going to bed, you know how grumpy you get in the morning."

"I don't get grumpy." You mutter.

"You do." Michael retorted. "Now goodnight."

"Yeah, goodnight." You grumbled, Michael kissed your head.

#verycoolusername1 #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl hockey #nhl players #michael kesselring fluff #michael kesselring imagine #michael kesselring x reader #michael kesselring #mk7 #utah mammoth #utah hc #utah hockey club #utah mammoth imagine #clayton keller #logan cooley #josh doan #john marino #dylan guenther

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ninjakittenarmy · 2 days ago

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“Oh I have. Mostly about whether it technically makes them insects.”

The cat-girl cocked her head. “Eh?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. It was an understandable reaction, but the actual subject matter was so dumb that I was dreading explaining it.

“Since insects have six limbs, and so do centaurs, and these people were only ever taught that six legs equals insect, they ask centaurs if they count as insects.”

She was silent for a moment, staring at me in disbelief.

“But that’s so DUMB!”

“I know, right? A buddy of mine I’ve known since high school’s a centaur and he actually gets asked that a lot.”

“They don’t even have exoskeletons!”

“Yeah, and you have to have evolved in the class Insecta. It’s not just looks.”

She sighed. “I thought it was just us but I guess everyone gets dumb questions.”

“Sorry I brought it up” I said. “Didn’t mean to hit a sore spot.”

She shrugged. “It’s not too big a deal, I’m just not sure why so many people fixate on it. It’s really not that strange. The amount of times I’ve been asked why I have four sets of ears instead of big cat ears wrapped around the side of my head is mind boggling.”

I’ll admit I was having a hard time imagining that.

“In any case, the reason we were engineered like that is because cat ears and human ears don’t hear the same auditory spectrum, yeah? I don’t really know the details but the ear shape has a lot to do with it. With eyes, it’s easy, you just add all the color cones from cats and humans. With ears it’s tricky to make one that hears all the sounds cats and humans can pick up.”

“So they just give you a set of each.”

“Exactly!” she said, glad I was getting it so easily.

The waiter briefly interrupted us to bring our sushi platters. Her eyes turned into saucers.

“Oh my God that looks so good!”

“Right? This place has amazing sushi.”

She ate the platter with astonishing speed. She was done before I could even finish half of mine.

“Wow. You must’ve been starving.”

She nodded enthusiastically, then swallowed the last California roll.

“Oh yeah. Haven’t eaten in a few hours at least! We felinids gotta eat lots of meat.”

“For the eyesight, right?”

“Among lots and lots of other stuff yeah but our eyes need a type of protein that you can only get from meat. There’s a lot of stuff we can only get from meat actually. Having to explain that to the vegetarians is NOT fun.”

“Oof” I winced, already being familiar with the sort of vegetarian she was talking about.

“I think most of them get that we can’t eat like them, but some of them are just nuts. Complete zealots. Like, no, Makeighlyn, I can’t just eat soy. I know there’s protein in soy. It’s not the right kind.”

I chuckled at her name suggestion.

“There’s this one vegan lady who’s still mad at me for ah, ‘stealing’ her cat.”

She grinned mischievously.

“Ooh, do tell!”

“Right so I was cat sitting for her and I realized that Mittens wasn’t looking so hot. I couldn’t find any cat food around so I asked if she was out.”

“Oh brother” she said, already seeing where this was going.

“She says that she eats this veggie and tofu purée in the fridge. Now I already knew that this was bad. But I looked at this Tupperware and it was full of just, the foulest slop I have ever seen in my life. Like if you fed this to inmates in Texas, YOU would get the death penalty.”

She snorted, choking on laughter.

“So then you stole the cat?”

“Well here’s the thing, I didn’t steal anything! I called the police to see if the city’s animal cruelty laws covered this and wouldn’t you know it, they did. So we have this whole court battle and she throws a fit right in the courtroom about how the government was only punishing her because they were in the pocket of the meat industry.”

“Oh God.”

I laughed. “Yeah she said some of the wildest conspiracy theory bullshit I ever heard. She thinks that all animals-“ I cut myself off laughing” “That ALL animals naturally only eat plants and that we humans taught carnivores to eat meat.”

“Did ‘em a favor” she said.

I chuckled. “Does time for animal cruelty AND contempt of court. And obviously loses the cat. So I took her in and got her some actual, edible food. Edible for her I mean. Though it’s probably safer for human consumption than whatever that puree was.”

We continued talking for a while about various things. Biology, videogames, the anime that lead to her species’ creation, that sort of thing. A couple hours, a few orders of seafood dishes, and an expensive bill later, and we were ready to go. As we were packing up, she said something that caught me off guard.

“So… if you’re not busy later tonight, could I maybe drop by your place?”

I was taken aback and immediately flustered. I could feel the heat rising on my face.

“O-oh! I uh-I don’t really do that sort of thing” I said. I’m asexual you see.

Her face turned beet red at the implication she apparently just realized. “Oh no, I know! I saw you wearing that pride pin aways back! I ah, don’t really like that stuff either, truth be told.”

“Oh” I said, relieved. “So why ah, why this all of a sudden?”

She smiled bashfully, averting her eyes.

“I was kinda hoping I could… maybe meet your cat? I love cats.”

"Why do people find the 'four ears' thing to be so weird?" The cat-girl flicked her top pair back in annoyance. "Centaurs have six limbs and I've never seen anyone ask one of them about it."

#my writing #cat girl

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cinder-stella · 3 hours ago

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𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐌𝐞𝐧 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐫𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐲𝐲𝐲 ૮₍•᷄ ࡇ •᷅₎ა

suggestive, domestic, slice of life

<18+ NSFW>toji, sukuna, nanami, gojo, geto<18+ NSFW>

There comes a time in every relationship where the man in your life gets a little...antsy, so to speak. Maybe a little too helpful. A little too, “you look so good when you're angry.”

You got it: he’s horny. And bless his heart, he’s trying to hint at it.

So I present to you *drumroll*:

“What JJK Men Do When They’re Horny and Trying to Hint at It”

(In other words: how to spot the world’s most transparent mating rituals.)

➽───────────────❥

TOJI

He’s laid-back—at least, on the surface. Reclined in a chair, hand behind his head just enough to expose the edge of that deep, carved hipbone that should be illegal. He talks like nothing’s going on. Like you’re just hanging out. But his eyes…Oh, his eyes give him away. They drag over you like a predator. Just unhurried, lazy and oh so possessive.

And then he shifts just a bit. His hand grazes your exposed thigh and his gaze tilts up at you like he’s already imagined how you’d look in his lap. He licks his bottom lip without thinking then huffs a low laugh like he knows he shouldn’t be staring.

But he doesn’t stop. “You look good in those shorts.” The words are casual and loose. But his voice drops a full octave when he says it . Slow and low, skimming right down your spine.

“You mean the one i wear all the time?” You raise an eyebrow and shift to hide to way your skin reacts to his touch.

“Hm, I don’t recall.” Then, he leans back again. Opens his legs. Spreads them wide like a silent dare and rests one arm along the back of the couch behind you. (holy frick)

Ok, now you’re hot. Too hot. You feel your face flushing. Why did he have to be so sexy????

You’re watching his throat now. The way it moves when he swallows. The flex of muscle under skin.“I know what you’re doing, Toji.” You huff finally.

He just smiles like he knows exactly what kind of thoughts you’re having. And he’s in no rush. He’s going to make you stew in them.

RYOMEN

He smells you before he even registers that you walked in. Warm skin, soap, and a hint of something floral. He grins like a cat who’s about to pounce.

There you are, towel wrapped just tight enough to make his eyes literally devour you and he’s already plotting how to ruin your day in the best way possible.

“Oh? Playing dress-up with the towel? Trying to get a rise out of me?” he says, voice dripping with wicked amusement.

You give him a “really?” look and keep walking. Big mistake. Because suddenly he’s behind you, his heat pressing against your back, and holy shit his pants are definitely doing the cha-cha. They are really, going at it. I mean you knew he was a grower but damn.

He leans in close, voice rough. “You have any idea what you do to me just by standing there?”

Your eyes dart down and yep. There it is. The shameless hard-on. In all its glory. In all it’s sexy…girthy…long…delicious glory. (i’m sorry he’s just really hot.)

You bite your lip, trying to keep a straight face, but inside you’re thinking, “Okay, damn. I see you. And frankly? I’m impressed.”

KENTO

One thing about Kento, is that he stares.

Nanami’s just trying to mow the lawn like a responsible adult, minding his own business, when he catches you squatting down to pull weeds.

It’s innocent, right? Wrong.

Your shorts are cut so high that the curve of your ass is basically waving at him like a neon sign. And when you bend forward, your top shifts just enough to reveal the soft swell of your breasts almost right there in his line of sight.

He doesn’t mean to stare. Really. He’s just… caught off guard. He tries to look anywhere but there but the second his eyes catch that perfect view, everything goes south. Literally.

His jaw tightens, lawn mower suddenly sounds like way too loud to focus, and now…he’s definitely sporting an accidental hard-on. It’s almost as if he has to turn the lawn mower off completely to see properly.

Obviously you spot him, hands gripping the lawn mower a little too tightly, looking like he just swallowed a lemon. How could you not notice him. He’s just standing menacingly. And he looks really good doing it. Your eyes trail down his hot, muscular body. You stare at how sexy and golden the hairs on his arms look in the sunlight. Then you take a little peak at his package just cause. Oh, yeah. Smack. Right in your face. (i’m really trying to be civil here)

It takes a lot out of you not to bend over and present your whole being to him then and there so you settle for smirking and you call out, “If you’re gonna stare, at least help me pull weeds.”

He coughs, cheeks flaming behind those glasses. “I was, uh, inspecting the grass.”

You raise a brow. “Mhm. Suuuure.”

And the way his gaze flickers back down well, let’s just say you won’t be letting him off easy anytime soon.

GOJO

Gojo’s got a PhD in Testing Your Limits with a Minor in ‘Bothering You Until You Climb Him Like a Tree.’ He’s touchy at baseline but when he’s horny? Every single graze, every wink, every casually suggestive comment is an audition for what he really wants to do.

He’s behind you in the kitchen, doing absolutely nothing to help with his arms wrapped around your waist as he sways you side to side like you’re slow dancing in the middle of making eggs. His hands shamelessly roamed your body but not in a sweet boyfriend way. This says “I’m imagining bending you over the counter.”

You elbow him lightly. “Can I help you?”

“Just admiring the view,” he hums, leaning in to kiss your neck. “And imagining what kind of sound you’d make if I bit right here.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Yeah,” he says, spinning you around and cupping your face like he’s about to say something profound. “Inside you.”

You choke on your own breath. “Why are you feral.”

He pulls you in for a kiss but it’s soft and misleading. His hand trails down, over your back, until it settles on your ass. He gives it a firm squeeze then a playful smack. You flinch, laughing in surprise.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he whispers, voice low and hot against your ear. “You’re quite tempting you know.”

And then his hand makes its way to your neck. He applies just enough pressure to make your breath hitch. His lips brush yours again and the kiss deepens like he’s daring you to lose your grip first. (i just knowww he knows every single thing that gets you going…my goodness…im sweating)

You pull back, flushed with your eyes wide. “Are you trying to seduce me or start something you can’t finish?”

He grins. “Baby, if I start something, I’m finishing. Twice.”

SUGURU

You wake up from a nap like the embodiment of coziness—hair messy, cheeks warm and blanket still half-draped over your thigh. You’re radiating that soft, sleepy heat. That sleepy, warm, clean scent is just taking over the atmosphere.

When Suguru walks into the bedroom he smells it before he even sees you.

He stops dead in his tracks like he’s been hit by a tranquilizer dart. His eyes go wide, pupils blown and his chest rises a little too fast.

“Holy shit,” he mutters under his breath like he’s in pain.

You blink at him, all squinty and half-conscious, still stretching with a yawn. What the heck was he on about?

He’s on you in two steps, crouching beside the bed like you’re some kind of relic. His nose brushes your shoulder, inhaling deeply like you’re a bath&body works candle.

“That smell…fuck, you’re so warm,” he murmurs, eyes practically rolling back. “I swear, I could sink into you and die happy.”

You blink at him again, a slow, sleepy smirk tugging at your lips. “You’re being so dramatic.”

But he’s not listening. His hand slides along your thigh, fingertips ghosting over the edge of your shorts like he was about to call a locksmith for your panties.

“You don’t get it,” he says, jaw clenching. “You smell like sleep and heat and…fuck—do you even know what that does to me?”

You giggle, which only makes it worse. His eyes flutter shut like he’s overwhelmed.

And when you shift, just slightly, he groans quiet and deep, like he’s physically holding himself back from just. sinking. it. in. (hell yeah hell yeah hell yeah hell yeah—)

➽───────────────❥

In conclusion:

Men are not subtle. Especially not JJK men.

And if one more of them gets hard just because you walked past them in a towel or smelled like a nap…honestly that’s just hot asf, I can’t lie.

Ryomen’s pitching a tent like it’s a camping trip.

Toji’s staring like the towel’s gonna evaporate if he concentrates hard enough.

Kento’s trying to pretend he's just “admiring the landscaping.”

Geto’s just one whiff away from dining on the kat like it’s a Michelin-star buffet.

And Gojo…That man touches you like he’s trying to trigger a sprinkler in your pants.

Anyway, hydrate. Stretch. Lock your door if Gojo’s anywhere within a 10-mile radius and you’re in anything less than a track suit.

And remember, just because he grabbed your ass and whispered “just admiring the view” doesn’t mean you owe him anything.

But you can laugh. Loudly. Preferably right before you make him beg. Cause it’s always better when they beg ;).

♡´ˎ˗✎

#jjk #jjk scenarios #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk kento #jujutsu kento #geto suguru #geto x reader #jjk fluff #fushiguro toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen toji #satoru gojo x reader #jjk gojo #ryomen sukuna #ryomen x you #stelficz💭

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vviolets444rroses · 2 days ago

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— bf!rafe just being protective of his girl ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗

night life in the obx was kind of… boring. so when rafe offered to take you, sarah, and kie to the mainland for a night out, you didn’t hesitate. his one request? bring some guy company. you knew he meant topper or kelce, but instead—

“yeah, john b and jj can come too,” you grin, fully aware he barely tolerates them.

he opens his mouth to protest but just sighs and bites his tongue.

i mean, you did give in to the request. fair trade, right?

the club you were heading to was throwing a costume party. you didn’t have much to work with, but you pulled something together: cat ears, a black corset, the tiniest matching skirt, and thigh-high boots. not a cutesy black cat—the hottest black cat. kind of like catwoman.

rafe never cared much about what you wore. you always asked if it was too much, if he even liked it. his answer never changed. “it’s all good, baby. i can fight.” followed by kisses and an endless string of compliments that made your head spin.

after a long, cramped drive...

you’re squished in the backseat of rafe’s truck between sarah and kie. sarah’s deer antlers keep bumping the roof, and kie won’t stop adjusting her mario overalls.

everyone cheers when the club finally comes into view—then groans in sync at the sight of the massive line out front.

rafe pulls into a lot across the street, parking like a man on a mission. in the passenger seat, jj straightens his green luigi hat, while john b’s camo vest is already halfway sliding off.

you lean forward between the seats, resting your chin near rafe’s shoulder. “hey, do you guys mind waiting in line while we fix our makeup and hair?”

he hands you the keys without looking. “yeah, yeah. we’ll be watchin’ ya,” he mutters.

he’s not really in costume—just his usual kook attire: dark slacks, a fitted black polo, and a sleek watch.

“i told you to be batman,” you tease, eyeing his outfit.

he shrugs. “what? i am batman. bruce wayne.”

you roll your eyes. he smirks, knowing he wins.

the boys get out first, stretching and grumbling about the cold. john b and jj are shirtless under their costumes—something about it being more the vibe. jj swings open the door for you girls to get out after. the second they leave, you all dive back into final touch-up mode.

you check your reflection in the rearview mirror, fixing your cat ears with a smirk. “can’t believe we actually pulled these together last minute…”

“jj literally had mario and luigi hats lying around his house,” kie says, blotting her lip combo.

“my deer antlers are from a costume i wore when i was thirteen. space buns just make it look a lot less tragic,” sarah adds, dusting more highlighter across her cheekbones.

you finish with your powder and everyone piles out of the truck.

as you’re heading toward the club line, a random guy with a mini mic and a cameraman stops in front of you.

“hey! can i ask you a few questions for a youtube video?” he grins, mic already up.

ooo this oughta be fun, you think. “sure,” you nod eagerly, glancing back at sarah and kie, who are already giggling.

“what’s your name?”

you tell him, and he repeats it before moving on. “what’s something you wouldn’t want your future husband to know about you?”

you smile confidently, tilting your head. “nothing, ’cause i’m perfect. beautiful. and amazing.”

kie laughs in front of you, and sarah whistles.

you don’t even notice that rafe and jj have wandered on over until rafe speaks up.

“yo, what’s this?” he asks, stepping up next to the youtuber.

“just an interview,” the guy says quickly, eyes going wide as jj joins him, arms crossed and unimpressed.

you open your mouth to say something else, but then rafe’s hand slides across your chest— landing just over your breast. not groping, just possessive. casual, almost, like it belonged there. he uses the motion to guide you away, hand lingering just long enough to make a point.

“yeah, just doing an interview…” the youtuber repeats nervously, looking at jj.

“mhm. okay.” rafe gives him a tight smile and nod. he then pats the guy’s chest twice—firm but not too aggressive. just enough.

jj claps the cameraman’s shoulder and steers sarah and kie away too. rafe slides his hand into yours as you walk toward the line.

“you were really going to flirt just for content?” he mutters, though there’s no real heat in it.

you glance up at him, grinning. “not seriously, but maybe just a little.” he squeezes your hand, shaking his head with a soft laugh.

you all rejoin john b at the end of the line. the music’s thumping from inside the club already, lights pulsing across the street, and your cat ears catch the glow from a passing car. rafe stands behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder, arms wrapped lazily around your waist.

bruce wayne, you think to yourself, smiling. yeah, sure.

—

a/n: made this based off a reel i saw the other day, just gave it a little more thought. i. must. write. more. pogue. content. like or reblog if you likeyyy 🤙 and what you’d like to see!

#vviolets444rroses #rafe cameron #obx #outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #obx drabble #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe outer banks #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x you #outerbanks rafe #bf!rafecameron #bf!rafe #bf!rafe au #protective bf!rafe

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waitingandwishing · 6 hours ago

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Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Word Count: 2.5k "𝖫𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌, 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌" ━━ Ever since you were a kid, all you wanted was to be cared for.

“‘Cause I see your real face, it’s as ugly as sin. Gonna put you in your place cause you’re rotten within.” You sang, practicing the choreography easily. “When your patterns start to show it makes the hatred wanna grow out of my veins…”

Your voice trailed off and you sighed, collapsing on your bed with a huff. You rolled up your sleeve to reveal the spreading marks, glowing and pulsing each time you grazed your other hand on them. For almost your whole life, they’ve never spread this fast before.

Jinu said that his shame was what caused them to spread… What shame did you have then? The shame of these markings? But if so, then Rumi’s would’ve spread much faster than before right? You huffed. You couldn’t believe you were about to do something this stupid but… Maybe you should visit a mudang?

You groaned. Why were you now turning to spiritual stuff? You laid on your back, thinking for a moment before deciding you’d go to sleep early instead. You probably needed a good night’s rest anyways… Just as you walked over to your lamp to turn it off, a knock on your window interrupted.

You turned to see the large blue cat from before and the bird perched on top of its head. You frowned, but opened the door and entered your balcony. “Hello?” You greeted. The tiger stared at you before pushing into your hand as if telling you to pet him like before. “Where’s your owner?”

The tiger purred before biting your arm. It wasn’t a harsh bite, more delicate than anything as it seemed as though it was trying to guide you somewhere. “Ooookay…” You cringed at the horrible sensation of it’s drool coating your sweatshirt but didn’t pull away.

You followed the tiger into a portal before ending up on the street instead. You shivered at the cold wave of existential dread that came when you entered, but brushed it off and pulled your hood over your head instead. You couldn’t exactly be seen being hauled away by a blue tiger in public right?

“Isn’t it odd how we keep meeting like this?”

You turned to see Jinu with his hands in his pockets. You smiled slightly, the tiger now letting go of your arm. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sent your cat to come get me.”

Jinu shrugged, feigning an innocent expression. You walked forward, now enshrouded in the darkness of the alleyway. “I actually have something to ask you, surprisingly.” Your gaze was fixated on the ground, not daring to look up at Jinu.

“My markings…” You rolled your sleeve up to reveal the spread of them going across your arms. “Why are they growing? You said that yours grew from shame but… I haven’t felt any shame.”

Jinu stared at them, his finger twitching slightly to reach out, before he curled his hand into a fist instead. “It is… Hard to identify shame.” He finalized.

You looked up at him, blinking, before letting out a chuckle. “That’s hardly an explanation. Nor does it give me any comfort.”

“Ah, I’m… Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You shook your head, “After we seal the Honmoon…” Your voice trailed off, eyes glancing at Jinu before clearing your throat. “Rumi’s and my markings will be… Fixed.”

“How did you get your markings?” Jinu asked.

“Ah… I, uh, don’t know actually. It’s just something I’ve been born with like Rumi.” You looked at them, furrowing your brows at the noticeably drastic changes, “We’re not related though so…”

“And you don’t hear Gwi-Ma in your head either?” Jinu asked. You shook your head, your eyes focusing on the cat now rubbing on your legs.

“No…” You muttered.

“Then you’re lucky too.” Jinu said. He stayed quiet for a while, tilting his head up to look at the purple colored sky.

Did negative thoughts count as Gwi-Ma speaking in your head? No, you didn’t think so. Everyone had negative thoughts sometimes, even demons have them replaced by Gwi-Ma’s manipulation. If so… Were they really that different from humans?

“Maybe… You can be lucky too.” You thought out loud. Jinu turned to you with a confused look on his face. “When the Honmoon is sealed, all demons will be banished to be with Gwi-Ma for all eternity. You can be on our side. You’ll be rid of the markings.”

Jinu paused, opening his mouth to speak before you added. “It doesn’t mean you’ll live without your memories of misery. At least, I think so.” You mused before finally looking at Jinu with a smile, “Jinu, if you help us win the Idol awards, you can stop hearing Gwi-Ma’s voice inside your head…”

“What makes you think the Honmoon can save a guy like me?” Jinu asked, eyes carefully tracing the street in consideration.

“You tried to help your family. We all…” Your voice trailed off, masking the wince of a sudden headache with clearing your throat. “We all make mistakes.”

Jinu scoffed, “It’s not that simple.”

“It’s never that simple.” You challenged, “If the Honmoon can… Help me and Rumi with our mistakes, it surely can with yours.”

There’s a softening. A stillness in his eyes as he looks at you. As if his entire world has just settled into place. His pupils dilated just slightly, eyes warm with a kind of quiet awe, and for a moment, time seems to hush around the two of you. It’s not dramatic, not always flashy. It’s subtle. Sacred.

Familiar, even to you. You feel as if you’d done this before, that you’d felt this way before. You cleared your throat, “You always stare at someone like that?” You asked.

Jinu blinked out of his trance, turning away to the blue tiger sitting in front of him with a tilted head and crossed eyes. “It’s just… You remind me a lot like someone I knew.” Jinu said. You didn’t ask anything else because it seemed like he didn’t want to elaborate any further, but it warmed your heart either way.

His words carried the weight of a thousand unspoken memories and the quiet certainty of realization and recognition. It’s the look that said… You mattered. Not because of what you’ve done or said, but simply because you’re… You.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” You smiled, now turning away, “I’ve gotta change out of this wet sweatshirt before I start getting overstimulated so… Just think about my offer?” You turned your face to the side, looking at Jinu in the corner of your eye, “Give me a message if you accept it, Jinu.”

- - -

You explained the plan to Rumi, to which she agreed with. Jinu would help you win the Idol Awards, and you would seal the Honmoon when it was over. “Should we tell the others?” you asked, walking backstage to get ready for the rehearsal.

“... No.” Rumi decided, “They… They won’t understand.”

“Are those Celine’s words or yours?” you teased, trying to lighten the moment—but she didn’t smile. Not even a flicker. Your grin faltered. You stepped closer, placing a hand on her shoulder with quiet concern. “Rumi…”

“These lyrics are so… Wrong.” She said, her arms crossing tightly over her chest like she was bracing for something colder than judgment.

“Yeah…” you muttered, wincing as a dull throb pulsed through your skull. “Pretty hypocritical of us, I get it.”

“It’s fine. I think we can get through this.” Rumi nodded, but her voice didn’t carry much weight. You hesitated, studying her a moment longer before nodding back and stepping onstage beside her.

The music started, echoing faintly across the space as the four of you moved into formation. “Time to put you in your place ‘cause you’re rotten within.” You sang, turning with the practiced motion.

“When your patterns start to show it makes the hatred wanna grow out of my…” Rumi’s voice trailed off. She stopped moving entirely, her face blank and filled with hesitation.

“What’s going on? Why are we stopping?” Mira asked, her tone sharp with confusion.

“It’s just… These lyrics are throwing me off.” Rumi muttered, “I don’t think they’re right just yet.”

“Seriously? Now?” Mira frowned, eyebrows pulling in.

“No, it’s fine.” Zoey laughed weakly, already flipping through her lyric journal. “It’s the second verse, right? Uh, how about… ‘When the patterns start to show, the whole world will finally know that you’re depraved’?”

You shook your head at the same time Rumi did. The movement was subtle, but Mira noticed. Her frown deepened as her gaze shifted toward you, questioning. You couldn’t meet her eyes. You looked down at the scuffed black floor instead.

“Um, ‘My sword will happily show you to your grave?’” Zoey offered again. Rumi shook her head, “‘You will be pummeled till no remains—’”

“No, Zoey, it’s just—It’s the whole song.” Rumi sighed, weariness etched into her voice.

“Oh… Okay, great!” Zoey said, trying to laugh it off, but her voice went quiet as her eyes fell to the notebook in her hands. “Well, then, I might as well tear these all up!”

“Rumi, we don’t have time to change the lyrics even if we wanted to.” Mira said, stepping closer now. “The Idol Awards are tomorrow.”

“Well, I… I don’t think I can sing this song.” Rumi argued, her voice small but firm.

“It’s… So hateful.” You added.

The tension between the four of you was like static before Bobby stepped in, his timing almost too perfect. “Hey, girls, just wanted to bring some last-minute pick-me-ups…” He smiled, though it was clearly strained, placing the bag down. “I know things have been really stressful lately and you’ve been working so hard on the Idol routine.”

Then, a sharp pink pulse hit you, like static in your bones. The headache returned in full force, blooming behind your eyes like fire. You winced, though hit it well. You turned and ran. There wasn’t time for more arguing, you had civilians to save.

- - -

“Seriously, what is your problem?” Mira asked as she sliced through a demon's body.

Mira’s words ring in your ears like an accusation you can’t deflect. You know you’re hiding something but it isn’t out of malice. It’s out of fear. Out of uncertainty. Out of not knowing if you’re right or wrong. The Honmoon. The song. The dreams. The missing people. The silence where there should be cheering fans.

“I told you, the song, it’s-”

“I’m not talking about the song, I’m talking about you and Y/N!” Mira said. You turned your head, looking at her before pulling a demon closer to you and stabbing it with your dagger. “Why are you both questioning everything that we stand for when we’re so close to sealing the Honmoon? What are you two not telling us?!”

“I-I-”

“What are you hiding from us?” Mira asked, her hand on Rumi’s shoulder just as the purple haired girl was about to pull away.

“Not everything is about your insecurities, Mira!” Rumi yelled. You widened your eyes, looking between the two of them with a pained expression.

You stood between them, looking at both their expressions. Zoey stood next to Mira with widened eyes. The whole tunnel that shrouded you with darkness suddenly blew past you, the skyline of the city and mountains coming into view.

“Mira, I-I didn’t mean…”

“Would you two stop fighting each other and look?!” Zoey yelled, pointing to the huge hole coming from the upper bridge.

“Why is it so big…?” You muttered. Multiple hungry demons piled on top of each other, ready to ravage any human souls on the train.

“If you’re with us, prove it.” Mira challenged, looking at you and Rumi before focusing her attention back on the demons.

You got into position before lunging with the four of them at the herd of demons. Your whip cracked like gunfire, splitting the air above the demon's heads. One lunged forward, to which you moved your shoulder forward, elbow locked and fingers snapping the whip at the end. The tip wrapped around its wrist, pulling it forward before plunging your dagger into its chest.

“It’s a take down, Imma take you out and it ain’t gonna stop!”

The second demon charged, causing you to spin left and let the tail of your whip loop low around its leg. You pulled hard, dropping its balance before throwing the dagger into its chest and disintegrating it.

You leaned in, whip in a cross-body strike. The tip lashed across another demon's face, causing it to screech before bursting into a pink dust.

“Jung shin eul noh koh null jib balb goh! Kal eul seh gyuh nuah! You’ll be begging and crying, all of you dying. Never miss my shot!”

When another lunged again, you dropped the whip and caught behind the ankle. In a wrapping move, the tail tangled briefly. You yanked hard, turning your hips and unbalancing it successfully. You threw your dagger again.

“I don’t think you’re ready for the takedown! A demon with no feelings don’t deserve to live… It’s so obvious…”

You widened your eyes, watching as another demon came swinging with a club at Rumi, who had suddenly paused their demon massacre. “RUMI!” You shouted, latching your whip onto her waist and pulling her forward. The momentum caused you to fly forward, sending a kick to the larger demon's head.

The lurking demons overran the plane. You knelt down, helping Rumi up as Mira finished off the last of the demons with a shockwave of blue energy.

Mira turned to look at you and Rumi, disappointment evident in her eyes, but just as she was about to say something, you spoke up first. “The passengers!” You realized.

You entered the train, searching through the seats to find at least one person, only to be disappointed at the sight of the missing people. What were you going to do now?

The train stopped at its nearest station, the four of you walking out with saddened looks on your faces. “Whatever you think about the song, it doesn’t matter right now.” Mira spoke up, her voice breaking slightly. “Everything is at stake and we just need to get through this together.” She walked away, not daring to meet yours or Rumi's gaze.

“You know I’m always on your side but… It’s really hard to understand this time.” Zoey muttered, turning to look at the two of you, “We can’t win this without your voices…” She finalized before walking away with Mira.

You and Rumi exchanged glances. Something’s wrong. And not just with the mission. With you. With Rumi. With the entire foundation everything’s been built on.

You look at her, your partner in this, and the weight in her eyes mirrors your own. The kind of weight you carry when truth is clawing at the inside of your chest but you’re afraid to open your mouth and let it out. Because if you speak it aloud, it might undo everything you’ve fought for…

Zoey says they need your voice. Mira says you’re keeping secrets. She’s not wrong. But they don’t see what you see. They don’t hear what you hear in that song. They don’t feel how wrong it’s beginning to sound.

taglist: @the-bookish-artist @nisarelle @iviorienne @justanindiangirl12 @t4naiis @usuallyunlikelyfox@livsh20@venommie@dprweganggang03@satansdaughter123 @yumekono @arkcitrus

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