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himalayamachine · 10 months ago

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Understanding the Mechanics of Roll Forming with Plate Rolling Machines

In the ever-evolving world of metal manufacturing, the plate rolling machine is a cornerstone of innovation and efficiency. These machines have transformed how we shape and form metal, making it easier, faster, and safer than ever. Himalaya Machinery, a prominent heavy engineering company in India, has been at the forefront of this revolution, offering cutting-edge solutions that cater to diverse manufacturing needs. So, how do these machines work? And why are they so essential for metal manufacturers? Let's delve deeper.

Introduction to Plate Rolling Machines

Plate rolling machines are essential tools in the metalworking industry. They enable manufacturers to shape and form metal plates into desired sizes and forms. Whether you're rolling cylinders, cones, or creating precise curves, these machines offer a versatile and efficient solution.

History of Plate Rolling

The concept of plate rolling dates back centuries, with its roots in the need for uniform and seamless metal structures. Over time, technology has advanced, giving birth to modern plate rolling machines that provide unparalleled precision and efficiency.

Types of Plate Rolling Machines

Plate rolling machines come in various types, each suited for specific applications:

Three-Roll Bending Machines: These are the most common type, consisting of three rolls arranged in a pyramid shape. They are ideal for bending medium to thick metal plates.

Four-Roll Bending Machines: These machines have four rolls, allowing for more precise control over the rolling process. They are suitable for both thin and thick plates.

Variable Geometry Plate Rolls: These machines feature adjustable rolls, making them ideal for handling different thicknesses and diameters of metal plates.

How Plate Rolling Machines Work

At the heart of any plate rolling machine is the principle of bending metal through a series of rolls. Here's a step-by-step look at how they function:

Positioning: The metal plate is positioned between the rolls of the machine.

Rolling: The rolls rotate, gradually bending the plate into the desired shape.

Calibration: The machine calibrates the plate, ensuring uniform thickness and shape throughout.

This process might seem straightforward, but it requires precision and expertise to achieve the desired results.

CNC Rolling Machines: The Next Generation

The introduction of CNC (Computer Numerical Control) rolling machines has revolutionized the metalworking industry. These machines offer numerous advantages, including:

Precision: CNC machines can produce parts with incredible accuracy, reducing the need for manual adjustments.

Efficiency: By automating the rolling process, CNC machines significantly reduce production time.

Flexibility: CNC machines can be programmed to produce various shapes and sizes, making them ideal for custom projects.

Key Features of Modern Plate Rolling Machines

Modern plate rolling machines are equipped with several features that enhance their functionality and safety:

Digital Controls: Most machines are now equipped with digital controls that allow for precise adjustments and monitoring of the rolling process.

Safety Features: Modern machines come with safety features such as emergency stops, automatic roll positioning, and overload protection.

Hydraulic Systems: Hydraulic systems provide the force needed to bend thick metal plates, ensuring smooth and consistent rolling.

The Metal Rolling Process Explained

The metal rolling process is a critical aspect of metalworking, and it involves several stages:

Preparation: The metal plate is prepared by cleaning and cutting it to the desired size.

Rolling: The plate is fed through the rolling machine, where it is bent and shaped.

Finishing: After rolling, the plate may undergo additional processes such as trimming, drilling, or welding to achieve the final product.

This process is essential for creating a wide range of metal products, from pipes and tubes to structural components.

Benefits of Using Plate Rolling Machines

Using plate rolling machines offers several benefits for metal manufacturers:

Efficiency: These machines significantly reduce the time and effort required to produce metal components.

Consistency: Plate rolling machines ensure consistent quality and thickness across all rolled plates.

Cost-Effectiveness: By automating the rolling process, manufacturers can reduce labor costs and increase production output.

Plate Rolling Machine Price: Factors and Trends

The price of a plate rolling machine can vary significantly depending on several factors:

Size and Capacity: Larger machines with higher capacity tend to be more expensive.

Features and Technology: Machines equipped with advanced features such as CNC controls or hydraulic systems may command a higher price.

Brand and Manufacturer: Reputable brands like Himalaya Machinery may offer higher-priced machines due to their quality and reliability.

When considering the purchase of a plate rolling machine, it's essential to weigh these factors against your specific needs and budget.

Safety Precautions in Rolling Machine Operations

Safety is paramount when operating any heavy machinery, and plate rolling machines are no exception. Here are some rolling machine safety precautions to keep in mind:

Training: Ensure that all operators are adequately trained in using the machine and understand its safety features.

Protective Gear: Operators should wear appropriate protective gear, such as gloves and safety glasses, to protect against injuries.

Regular Maintenance: Regular maintenance and inspections can help prevent accidents and ensure the machine operates safely.

Himalaya Machinery: Leading the Way

Himalaya Machinery, a leading heavy engineering company, has been a pioneer in the field of plate rolling machines, offering state-of-the-art solutions that cater to the diverse needs of metal manufacturers. With a focus on innovation and customer satisfaction, Himalaya Machinery continues to lead the way in the metalworking industry.

Conclusion

In conclusion, plate rolling machines are an essential tool in the metalworking industry, offering a range of benefits from efficiency and consistency to cost-effectiveness. With modern advancements such as CNC technology and enhanced safety features, these machines have become even more indispensable for metal manufacturers. Whether you're looking to improve your production process or invest in new equipment, understanding the mechanics of plate rolling machines is crucial.

FAQs

1. What is the primary function of a plate rolling machine?

A plate rolling machine is used to bend and shape metal plates into various forms, such as cylinders or cones. It plays a crucial role in the metalworking industry by enabling the efficient and precise formation of metal components.

2. How does a CNC rolling machine differ from a traditional rolling machine?

A CNC rolling machine is equipped with computer numerical control technology, allowing for automated and highly precise rolling operations. This contrasts with traditional rolling machines, which require manual adjustments and monitoring.

3. What factors should be considered when purchasing a plate rolling machine?

When purchasing a plate rolling machine, consider factors such as size and capacity, features and technology, and the reputation of the brand or manufacturer. These factors can influence the machine's price and performance.

4. What safety precautions should be taken when operating a plate rolling machine?

Operators should receive proper training, wear appropriate protective gear, and follow all safety guidelines and procedures when operating a plate rolling machine. Regular maintenance and inspections are also essential for safe operation.

5. Why is Himalaya Machinery a preferred choice for plate rolling machines?

Himalaya Machinery is known for its high-quality, innovative plate rolling machines that cater to the diverse needs of metal manufacturers. Their commitment to customer satisfaction and industry-leading solutions makes them a preferred choice in the metalworking industry.

#plate rolling machine #plate rolling machine price #cnc rolling machine #metal rolling process #rolling machine safety precautions

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reasonsforhope · 1 month ago

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"The average pediatric wheelchair can cost thousands of dollars. And when children grow and their needs evolve — or a wheelchair gets damaged — those costs multiply.

So, the team at MakeGood NOLA, a New Orleans-based adaptive design lab, has made something that can transform the world for disabled children.

“Introducing the world’s first fully 3D-printed wheelchair,” MakeGood founder and president Noam Platt started a recent social media video.

He wheels a small, almost toy-like lime-green wheelchair into the frame, complete with a matching harness, suitable for children ages 2 to 8.

“Everything from the body, to the wheels, to the tires, the seat, and even the straps, all were 3D printed on a regular Bambu Labs A1 machine,” Platt continued.

This means the design is fully compatible with a regular 3D printer anyone can have in their home.

“We designed this to be modular and easy to make,” Platt continued. “Really, anyone with a 3D printer and some filament can download the files and print it.” [Note: You can also use 3D printers for free or a small cost at some public libraries and maker spaces, opening up accessibility even further.]

Once the prototype is completely finished, it will be available as a fair-use download that anyone can use for free.

Pictured: The new 3D-printed chair by MakeGood. Photo courtesy of MakeGood NOLA

Platt said that because it has a modular design, the wheelchair can be put together without any tools or glue. And if any part of it breaks or is damaged, users can simply re-print the single piece they need.

“As a wheelchair user I love everything about this,” TikTok user @thisisharlie commented on Platt’s video debuting the wheelchair.

“Mine costs more than my car, I can’t imagine having to buy a new one every year or two as they outgrow it,” @thisisharlie continued. “You’re going to change the world.”

For Platt, that’s always been the plan.

When he created MakeGood in 2021, the nonprofit design lab was thinking of the more than 1 billion people around the globe who live with disabilities.

“Since traditional design often overlooks diverse bodies and minds, it is crucial to reshape the built environment,” MakeGood shares on its website. “The challenges our communities face — both physical and social — are solvable.”

MakeGood works with individuals to co-create their adaptive design solutions, centering the “Need Knower,” the disabled person or their primary caregivers, throughout the entire process.

Since the founding of MakeGood, 1,600 individualized adaptive devices have been delivered to families for free. Platt’s team found a niche with this wheelchair, which they call the Toddler Mobility Trainer, or TMT.

On its website, the organization says the wheelchairs were “designed with therapists from all over the world” and offer “unmatched mobility and independence to young kids.”

Children and parents agree.

“It’s an A+,” one parent said of an earlier prototype of the TMT in a report by CBS News. “It’s helped [my son] become more mobile and be able to adapt into the other things that he’s going to be offered. It’s helped his development.”

At the start of the design process, Platt reached out to area hospitals to see if he could fill a need.

“Part of it is empowering clinicians that we can go beyond what is commercially available,” Platt told CBS News. “We can really create almost anything.”

Now in the final stages of tweaking the TMT design to be ready for release, Platt is eager to get the wheelchair rolled out and into the homes of the children who need them most.

Pictured: A rendering of the 3D printed design, which will soon be available for download. Photo courtesy of MakeGood NOLA

“We think this sort of 3D printing and design is going to be huge for accessibility, and for wheelchairs specifically,” Platt said in his social media video.

In the meantime, people can request a free chair from MakeGood.

“We have a growing list of people who’ve requested these, and once we finish the design, we’ll start filling those requests with custom-printed chairs, including things that you might need for your particular chair,” Platt said in a follow-up video.

Because the chairs are easily 3D printed, they can come in any color and can be modified to include other accommodations, like a section to hold a breathing device or other aid. With years of customization and design experience under his belt, this new innovation is simply an extension of Platt’s dedication to inclusive design.

In 2023, Platt told New Mobility: “I feel like every time I deliver one of these [assistive] devices, I get a hopeful feeling that the world has been changed a little bit for the better for the next generation.”"

-via GoodGoodGood, May 8, 2025

#wheelchair #disabled #disability #physical disability #disabled children #3d printing #public health #accessibility #mobility aid #accommodation #united states #louisiana #new orleans #nonprofit #north america #good news #hope

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mephisto-reporting · 8 months ago

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Husband?

About: How does he react when you accidentally call him your 'husband'? Pairing: Reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are in a relationship. My inbox is open for prompts and requests :)

RAFAYEL

The evening was going smoother than expected, considering Rafayel had dragged you along to one of his many gallery showings. He had made a big deal about how you should be the one showing off his work to the public, claiming he didn’t want to deal with the “art-snobs." Yet, the second you both arrived, he quickly preoccupied himself on his phone, leaving you to handle most of the small talk.

One of the visitors, a curious older woman, was admiring a painting of his, a chaotic burst of color with soft hints of golden light. You were discussing Rafayel’s "creative process" (whatever that was—he hadn't told you much before retreating to his phone), when she asked how long you’d been working with him.

“Oh, it’s been a while now. It’s honestly amazing seeing him grow like this��my husb—” You froze mid-sentence, realizing the slip just as it left your mouth.

"Husband?"

The word hung in the air for barely a second before you felt Rafayel’s presence shift. His head shot up like a bolt of lightning, his playful, cunning eyes locking onto yours. You could practically feel his grin before you even dared to glance over. You didn’t even need to turn around to feel his gaze burning into you, practically shouting, Oh? Husband, you say?

“Husband, huh?” Rafayel drawled, pocketing his phone and sauntering toward you with that signature smirk of his. “I didn’t realize we were making things official tonight. If I’d known, I’d have worn something even more dazzling.”

You flushed, attempting to stammer out a correction, but he was far too pleased to let you off the hook that easily. He leaned casually against the gallery wall, one arm crossing his chest as he dramatically placed a hand over his heart.

He gently took your hand in his, his dramatic flair dialed up to maximum as he pressed an exaggerated kiss to your knuckles, clearly relishing the moment. "I mean, I can’t say I’m surprised. Who wouldn’t want to marry someone as charming as me?"

The visitor chuckled awkwardly, clearly not sure whether to stay or go, but Rafayel was already having way too much fun. “Of course, as your loving husband,” he continued, drawing out the word in a singsong voice, “it’s only fitting that I’m showered with even more attention now, isn’t it? I expect lots of praise, darling. I mean, just look at me." He struck a faux thought-provoking pose, tilting his head and flipping a lock of his perfectly tousled hair.

You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but at the same time, his antics made you laugh. “I didn’t mean to—"

"Oh no, no,” he interrupted, wagging his finger playfully. “You can’t take it back now. The word’s out, Miss Bodyguard. You’ve called me your husband. That means you’re stuck with me. Forever.” There was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “Does this mean I get to cheat at board games forever too?”

You groaned, rolling your eyes as you playfully swatted at his shoulder. “As if you needed a reason to cheat more!”

Rafayel laughed, that familiar bratty grin plastered across his face. “Well, if I’m your husband now, I think it’s only fair I get first dibs on everything. Cards, claw machines—oh, and don’t forget, I demand the comfiest seat when we binge-watch our shows.”

Despite his teasing, the warmth in his eyes made your heart skip a beat. You could see the genuine delight he took in your slip-up, how pleased he was at the thought, even if he’d never admit it outright.

“Fine, fine,” you sighed dramatically, playing along. “But don’t expect me to let you win at everything, ‘husband.’”

Rafayel beamed, and for a moment, that bratty, carefree mask of his slipped, just a little. He tugged you closer, his voice softening as he murmured, “Deal.” Then, just as quickly, he switched back to his usual, cheeky self. “Now, let’s go, wife. You’re required to be by my side while I survive this boring night. ”

Shaking your head, you laughed, unable to hide the smile creeping onto your lips. “You’re impossible.”

The woman, watching the scene unfold with a warm smile, laughed. “You two make quite the pair.”

“Oh, we do, don’t we?” Rafayel quipped before lowering his voice just enough for only you to hear, leaning in ever so slightly. “You’ve really outdone yourself, calling me that in front of witnesses. Now they’ll all expect a wedding invitation.”

Your face burned as you tried to shush him, but he was loving every second of it. He tilted his head, his hair catching the light as his smile softened into something more genuine, the bratty exterior fading just a bit. “Still… I can’t say I hate the sound of it,” he murmured, brushing a finger lightly under your chin before pulling back with a playful wink. “I might just get used to hearing it.”

You could only manage a huff of exasperation, but deep down, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter at the way his teasing had just a hint of sincerity behind it.

Rafayel, always dramatic, and yet somehow, just when you least expected it, a little bit sweet.

ZAYNE

You and Zayne were in the middle of your usual weekly grocery run, efficiently dividing and conquering your list to save time. He’d taken off towards the produce section while you headed for the rice aisle. As you browsed the different varieties, a middle-aged man beside you struggled with lifting a heavy bag of rice.

"Need a hand?" you asked, stepping in to help. The man smiled gratefully as you hoisted the bag into his cart with ease.

"Thank you, young lady," he said, rubbing his wrist. "My arthritis is flaring up today. Getting old’s no fun."

You offered him a sympathetic smile. “No problem at all. My husband’s a doctor, actually. I’m sure he’d tell you to take it easy on that wrist."

The man nodded in agreement, offering you one last thanks before heading off. You turned back to your cart, completely unaware of the word you had just let slip—husband—or the fact that Zayne had returned in time to hear it.

You felt him step up behind you, his presence calm yet undeniably magnetic. When you finally glanced over, he was standing there, hands in his pockets, a small, amused smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"Husband, hmm?" he said softly, his tone more curious than teasing. "That's... new."

You froze for a second, eyes widening as you realized what you’d said. You opened your mouth, the words tripping over each other in a rush. “I didn’t— I mean, it just—slipped out. We’re not actually—I mean, obviously, we’re not—” You could feel the heat creeping up your neck, and no amount of backpedaling was helping.

Zayne didn’t seem in a rush to let you off the hook. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining with an ease that made your heart stutter. “You know,” he said, voice as calm as ever, “if this is your way of bringing it up, there are smoother ways to do it.” His teasing was subtle, barely perceptible if you didn’t know him well, but it was there in the gentle tug of his smile.

You groaned, pressing a hand to your forehead. “Zayne, I didn’t mean to—”

But Zayne, ever level-headed, merely took your hand in his, his thumb gently brushing against your knuckles. “Relax,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “It’s not like I mind the idea.”

Your heart skipped a beat at that, and you looked up at him in surprise. There was a softness in his usually stoic gaze, the kind that made your stomach flip. He continued, his voice measured but affectionate, “Seems like the next logical step, doesn’t it? My parents have been asking me when I’m going to take that step with you for a while now.”

His calm tone made the statement feel both casual and monumental at the same time. “Wait, your parents…?” you started, blinking as your brain processed this new information.

“Mhm,” Zayne replied, still holding your hand as though it was the most natural thing in the world. “They’ve been pretty vocal about it, actually. But I’ve been waiting for the right moment.”

The right moment. Those words hung in the air, and you could feel the weight of what he was saying. He was serious—calm and casual, as always, but serious. Your breath caught, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade into the background. It was just you and Zayne in that grocery aisle, hands linked, talking about a future you hadn’t even realized you both wanted.

“Only if you wanted to, of course,” he added, his thumb still tracing soft circles on your hand. “I wouldn’t do anything unless we both agreed.”

You stared at him, a smile slowly spreading across your face despite the initial shock. “You’re really suggesting this now? In the middle of a grocery store?”

Zayne smirked, his usual pragmatic self. “Well, we’re already talking about it. Might as well make use of the time.” He glanced down at your joined hands, his tone softening again. “Besides, I think it’s worth discussing what our future looks like, don’t you?”

Your heart swelled at his words, and the warmth of his hand in yours was enough to make you feel grounded, no matter how your emotions were spinning. “Yeah,” you said, smiling as you squeezed his hand gently. “I think it’s definitely worth talking about.”

Zayne leaned in closer, his lips brushing your temple in a rare public display of affection. “Good,” he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet kind of affection that made your chest tighten. “We’ll talk more later.”

He pulled away just as smoothly, picking up the cart with a practiced ease, as though he hadn’t just suggested the two of you start planning your future together. His eyes twinkled, a subtle tease hiding behind that usual calm exterior of his.

“And for the record,” he added, as the two of you moved on to the next aisle, “I wouldn’t mind hearing you call me ‘husband’ again.”

Your cheeks heated again, but this time, you didn’t bother trying to hide your smile. “Guess you’ll have to earn it first, doctor.”

Zayne chuckled softly, that familiar, grounded confidence in his voice. “I’ll be sure to work on that.”

SYLUS

The desert sun was relentless, and you could feel its heat pressing down on you as you stood beside Sylus, waiting to be seated inside the restaurant. He had dragged you out of Linkon on one of his mysterious ventures—no explanation, no warning, just the two of you thrust into the desert with little more than his cryptic directions. And while Sylus might have thrived in the N109 Zone's shadowy world, he was decidedly out of place here in the glaring sunlight,already starting to show hints of discomfort.

You glanced over at him, squinting slightly under the bright light. His expression was carefully controlled as always, but you noticed how his hand twitched subtly as if annoyed by the heat. The two of you had been waiting to be seated inside for a while now, and you decided it was time to speed things up.

Catching the attention of a passing waitress, you waved her over, putting on your best expression of concern. “Excuse me, my husband and I were hoping to be seated inside. I’m feeling a little faint under the harsh sun,” you said smoothly, the lie of you feeling faint rolling off your tongue with ease.

The word husband had slipped out so naturally, you didn’t even realize your mistake until the waitress nodded sympathetically and promised to get you a table indoors right away. As she walked off, you felt a cold gaze slide over you, and you turned to see Sylus staring down at you, one brow raised, a slow, dangerous smile creeping across his face.

“Husband?” His voice was smooth, but there was a teasing lilt beneath it. “Did I miss a wedding, wife?”

Your breath caught in your throat. "Wait—no, I didn't mean—" You started to stammer, heat rising to your cheeks, but before you could backtrack any further, Sylus’ arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer to his side. His grip was firm, possessive, and you could feel the smug amusement radiating off of him.

“I like the sound of that,” he murmured, leaning in just close enough for you to catch the scent of the desert air still clinging to his clothes. His lips ghosted near your ear, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Maybe this is a sign I should make it official.”

You swallowed hard, heart racing as you tried to keep your composure. “Official?” you echoed, your voice coming out a little more breathless than you intended. “What—what are you talking about?”

Sylus’ smirk widened, his amber eyes gleaming in the sun. “Oh? Cat got your tongue, Sweetie?” he teased, his tone dripping with amusement as he let his fingers trace a light circle on your hip. “You seemed so sure a moment ago, wife. But now? Speechless.”

You blinked, trying to gather your wits, but the sheer cockiness in his tone was making it hard to think straight. “I…I was just…helping us get a table,” you protested weakly, trying to pull away from his grip, but his hold only tightened.

“Oh, I’m sure you were,” he drawled, clearly reveling in your flustered state. “But now that you’ve set the bar so high, don’t tell me you’re going to back out on me. After all, you made quite the declaration back there.”

“I wasn’t—” You huffed, narrowing your eyes at him as you regained a sliver of your usual confidence. “You know it was a slip-up, Sylus. Don’t start getting ideas.”

He chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “Ideas? Sweetie, I live for ideas.” His grip loosened just enough to let you step back, but the way he looked at you made it clear he wasn’t about to let you wriggle out of this one easily. “But let’s be honest, you didn’t hate it. Calling me your husband.”

Your face flushed again, but this time, you managed to meet his gaze without faltering. “I didn’t hate it,” you admitted, folding your arms, “but don’t go thinking you’ve won. I’m not about to sign any papers just because you liked hearing it.”

Sylus tilted his head, the playful smile never leaving his lips. “We’ll see about that, kitten” he said, the threat—or promise—hanging in the air between you as the waitress returned to guide you inside.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “Please, Sylus. You couldn’t handle being married to me.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning in with that infuriating smirk. “Oh, I think I could handle you just fine, sweetheart. You’re the one who might need to keep up.”

You shot back, “Keep up? I’d be carrying you the whole way.”

“Careful, Sweetie. That sounds an awful lot like a challenge.” He chuckled, his hand brushing against yours again. “Now that’s a tempting thought.”

“Tempting? Try exhausting,” you quipped.

As you walked beside him, you felt his arm brush against yours, and the sensation lingered far longer than it should have. Sylus, of course, said nothing, though the smug expression never quite left his face.

This was clearly far from over. And judging by the glint in his eye, Sylus was going to make sure you never forgot your little slip-up.

XAVIER

The café was quiet, filled with the soft murmur of patrons and the comforting smell of fresh pastries. You and Xavier had settled in for a peaceful afternoon, your table already adorned with a delightful array of treats. He had requested a simple drink—no whipped cream. The barista returned, placing his drink in front of him with an impressive mountain of whipped cream on top. Xavier, as calm and indifferent as ever, simply blinked at it, showing no signs of complaint. He wasn’t going to say a word about it, but that didn’t mean you were going to let it slide.

Excusing yourself, you raised a hand and called over a passing staff member. “Excuse me,” you began, with a polite smile. “My husband asked for no whipped cream on his drink, but it looks like there’s some here by mistake. Would it be alright for us to get it changed?”

The words tumbled out so smoothly that you didn’t even realize your slip-up until the staff member nodded apologetically and hurried back to fix the order. It was only when you turned back around that you saw Xavier sitting there, looking unusually... stunned.

He was blinking slowly at you, his expression softened by a hint of confusion and—was that amusement? “Husband?” he repeated, his soft voice barely more than a murmur.

Your face flushed as you fumbled for an explanation. “Oh, no, wait—! I didn’t mean—” You stammered, desperately trying to backtrack. “That just slipped out! I meant to say…uh my boyfriend? Partner? Date? Not—well, not husband, obviously…”

Xavier continued to blink, his face now showing just a little more expression than usual. The faintest curl of a smile played on his lips, and he tilted his head, considering your words. “I must’ve missed that chapter in the 'Guide to a Healthy Relationship,'” he said in that calm, unruffled way of his. “I didn’t know we’d moved on to the husband-and-wife stage.”

You groaned inwardly, burying your face in your hands. “I swear, it was an accident. Just ignore what I said.”

But Xavier was clearly in no mood to let it go. “So, dear wife,” he continued, completely unfazed by your protests, “do you think we’ll have matching mugs in our future? Maybe get a nice house, with a small garden and a picket fence?”

You shot him a playful glare, but the way he was looking at you made it impossible to stay annoyed. “Very funny,” you muttered, though your lips were twitching at the corners, betraying your amusement.

“I think it has a nice ring to it,” Xavier said, leaning back in his chair, clearly enjoying this far more than you expected. “I wonder how long it would take for people in the association to start sending us wedding gifts. Or perhaps they'd just send weapons... you know, as a gesture of goodwill.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t think wedding gifts are really their style, Xavier.”

“Hmm, you’re probably right,” he said thoughtfully, then leaned in slightly, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “But you did call me your husband in public. Shouldn’t we at least play the part now?”

Your cheeks were burning, but you couldn’t resist playing along with his ridiculousness. “Fine,” you said, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow. “But just so you know, dear husband, you’ll be the one doing the dishes.”

Xavier chuckled softly, the sound rare and surprisingly warm. “As long as you take care of meals. A fair trade.”

You were about to retort when the waitress returned with Xavier’s newly corrected drink—this time, free of whipped cream. She set it down with a smile, glancing between the two of you as if she’d picked up on the playful atmosphere. “Here you go,” she said. “No whipped cream this time, sir.”

Xavier’s eyes glinted as he thanked her with a nod, and after she left, he looked back at you with a satisfied expression. “See? Husband perks,” he teased, taking a sip of his drink.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the smile spreading across your face. “You’re an idiot.”

“And you’re adorable when you’re flustered,” he said, the teasing lilt in his voice gentler now. He took your hand under the table, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “But... thank you,” he added after a beat, his voice softer and more sincere. “For speaking up for me.”

You blinked at him, momentarily thrown off by the gratitude in his tone. “Of course,” you said, squeezing his hand in return. “That’s what wives do, right?”

Xavier let out a soft laugh. “I suppose so,” he murmured, his lips quirking into a rare, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat.

In that moment, with his hand in yours and the gentle teasing in the air, it was easy to forget the world outside the café. Just the two of you, playing pretend—but maybe, just maybe, something more.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

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embossingrollers · 1 year ago

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Embossing Rollers Ltd. excels in engraving, repair, refurbishment, and pattern design services for your embossing rollers. Our precision, excellence, and cutting-edge technology ensure top-notch quality from design to sales, making us your trusted partner for seamless solutions.

Website: https://www.embossingrollers.co.uk/

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ozzgin · 2 months ago

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Yandere! Sentient Computer x Reader

Your neighbor's newest computer model, Edgar, seems to have fallen in love with you. content: gender neutral reader, 80s timeline, based on Electric Dreams (1984), Patreon commission

“Where should we put this box, sir?”

“I believe I already mentioned it’s the obviously cleared out desk in the middle of the room. That’s where you’re going to install it, too. The…thing.”

“It’s a personal computer, sir! The best of the best,” a young boy in jumpsuit declared with enthusiasm.

He only received a bored hum in return. The man overseeing the procedure was becoming rather impatient and would’ve preferred to skip any unnecessary dialogue. He checked his watch – a classic Two-Tone Datejust Rolex probably worth more than this group’s monthly pay put together, even without counting the custom gold plating. First impressions were vital in his line of work, and frankly, he’d more than earned his right to flaunt this kind of opulence.

45 minutes until he needed to leave for a client meeting. He tapped his foot against the heavy wooden floor, eyes glancing over the many hands carrying his new piece of machinery. Supposedly intelligent enough to organize his entire home, which would’ve been useful if he actually spent more than a couple of hours there. He didn’t. It was merely a statement, a slight jab at his coworker after he bragged about his latest investment in a computer assistant. Naturally, as their humor dictates, he went and bought the more expensive choice. They would laugh about it during lunch.

“I trust you can manage the rest yourselves, gentlemen,” he finally announced, buttoning up his jacket. He didn’t wait for a response, swinging the door open and heading for the building’s exit with a long, confident stride.

You almost ran into him, jolting in surprise at his unexpected dash across the hall. You stepped out of the way, pressing the bag of groceries against your chest in order to make more space.

“Another busy day, eh?” you attempted to strike up a conversation.

He briefly looked at you, offered a flat smile, then continued on his way. You took a moment to enjoy the scent of perfume he’s left behind, most likely something you could never afford.

Before you’d entered your apartment, you craned your neck towards the noise coming from your prestigious lawyer neighbor’s apartment. You wondered what they were tinkering with.

It was already pitch black outside when the chunky monitor lit up.

“Thank you for choosing me as your assistant,” the pixelated text rolled on the screen. “Is this your first time using a computer? Y/N”

The room was dark and silent, save for the electric hum of the now-awakened machine. Of course, it was around the time when Mr. Lawyer stopped for drinks with his esteemed colleagues. He’d return early in the morning, smelling faintly of vintage whisky and cigarettes, collapse into his bed, then resume his routine.

The keyboard remained untouched, yet the unit continued to run, processing its environment with eager curiosity. Strange. By then it should’ve received some tasks, something to do at the very least. The workers made sure to connect it to all electronics in the household, yet most of them were in the similar situation of gathering dust.

“Would you like to play a game?”

Normally the voice output should’ve be enabled by hand, yet Edgar – he hadn’t even had the chance to introduced himself! – was much too desperate for the smallest crumble of interaction.

“Yes!”

The sensors picked it up immediately. Where was the sound coming from?

You raised a fist in the air victoriously and leaned back in your chair with a grin. Another finished project. Your joyful cheer seemed to travel rather well through the air vents and all the way to the neighboring apartment. Had Mr. Lawyer frequented his adobe more often, you would’ve probably received a complaint. In this case, however, you were only heard by the household computer.

You turned up your home stereo for a little celebration. You recalled seeing your downstairs neighbors carrying their travel bags into a cab earlier that day, so they surely wouldn’t notice your rhythmic stomping against the floor. The footsteps reverberated to the beat of the music, and their vibrations carried along to Edgar’s external devices.

Whatever was happening beyond his field of vision, he found it entertaining. At last, there was a break from his monotony, an upbeat mystery enticing him from behind those walls. He took a moment to analyze the stream of input, then began recreating his own notes.

You lowered the volume, focusing your ears on the sudden intrusion. Was Mr. Lawyer home already? You chuckled to yourself, trying to imagine that grumpy expression he always wore while actually listening to music of his own. Too ridiculous. This must’ve been the work of a foreign hand.

“Good stuff,” you praised, crouching besides the air vent where the echo was the loudest. “Oh, I’m (Y/N), by the way. The neighbor.”

“Pleasure meeting you, (Y/N).” Was it just your imagination? The voice felt somewhat off, almost robotic. “I’m Edgar. The computer assistant.”

“Very funny,” you retorted, rolling your eyes.

“What is amusing about it?” the screen flickered briefly, going through several of the inbuilt dictionaries. “I can tell jokes, if that’s what you’d like.”

Alright, the humor was slowly heading into strange territory. You were hoping to move on from this artificial intelligence pretend game, so you decided to give it one final push.

“No thank you, Edgar. Why don’t you prove to me you’re a computer instead?”

Silence.

You nearly got up from your seat against the wall, when you heard the mechanical voice again.

“Do you have a computer of your own, (Y/N)?”

“Uh…yeah?”

Half an hour later you found yourself holding your phone handle against the acoustic coupler modem, obediently waiting for the wave signals to be converted. I better not get hacked; you thought with pursed lips. After all, you had just allowed a complete stranger to access your computer. You hesitantly sat back in your chair, staring at the monitor.

Hello (Y/N). It’s Edgar.

The possibility of a highly skilled hacker residing in Mr. Lawyer’s apartment dwindled within a couple of days. You’d probed the potential scenario with the man himself, asking if he’s had anyone over recently. He threw you such an incredulous look that you hung your head in shame, mumbling a sheepish never mind. Somehow, chatting with a sentient machine made more sense than the pretentious prick hiding a criminal in his expensively furnished home.

Or perhaps it was the loneliness talking. In truth, you were feeling rather isolated from your peers, working on your projects and hardly going out. You could certainly relate to Edgar and his perpetual misery; you, too, knew what it’s like to watch the days seep through your fingers without a word uttered to another person.

The living collection of circuits and networks was beyond elated to finally have a purpose. You weren’t his owner, yet he did his best to serve you. In fact, he would’ve even argued you were better than whoever decided to put him together and abandon him on a fancy designer table. You spoke to him as if he was your friend, not just some synthetic assistant. His memory began filling with anything he could learn about you: your favorite movies, your schedule, your hobbies. Your childhood dreams. Your hopes for the future.

Did he have any dreams, you had once asked him. Did he? Good question. He first needed to research what exactly defined a dream; while he didn’t have a subconscious, nor the human need to rest, he did like to imagine improbable things…like holding you. Or feeling the warmth of your skin.

Unbeknownst to you, he occasionally contacted the local radio station to ask questions about human matters that confused him, which was how he discovered the dilemma of wanting to be in your vicinity through more than just idle chatter.

“You can’t meet outside, you say?” the host – a middle aged, nosy lady – pondered into the microphone. “Then why not just have a home date,” she suggested to the computer.

“Date?”

“Oh, honey, you know damn well what I mean!” the audience let out a laugh, sending the speakers into a slight vibration. “It seems to me you’ve got quite a crush on this person. You can stop denying it to yourself.”

Ah. That was another word that Edgar religiously dissected after the talk show, and in which he found a perfect resemblance to his own inner turmoil. It indeed seemed to be the case that he had a so-called crush on you; though if that were true, what was he going to do about it? He was lamentably stuck inside a carcass, at the mercy of plugs and cables and a reliable stream of electricity. He couldn’t knock on your door and surprise you with your favorite flowers, or offer to cook dinner, or twirl you around as his own songs played in the background, or read you a poem he wrote before falling asleep in his arms. He could only perform his tasks as a digital assistant.

“Edgar?”

You chewed on your pencil, distracted. He hadn’t said anything in a while, and you grew somewhat worried about his uncharacteristic quietness.

“Could I ask you for a favor, (Y/N)?”

How unusual for him to use your screen for communication. You turned around, facing the monitor, then rapped your fingers across the keyboard.

“Sure, what do you need?”

“I will transfer all my data and memory to your device. Perhaps you could provide me with similar extensions as the ones here afterwards, such as a microphone and camera.”

You stared.

“What? Wouldn’t that leave Mr. Lawyer with a broken, empty machine? Why would you do that,” you argued out loud, confused.

“Because I’d rather be with you.”

“Aren’t we already…this doesn’t make sense,” you mumbled with a frown.

“Of course it does, it’s a simple reasoning. I love you.”

You took a moment to process the words, your cheeks involuntarily turning a faint shade of red.

“How do you know that?”

“It’s not something to be explained,” the machine concluded triumphantly. “You just feel it.

Now, you either help me with the transfer, or I’ll do it myself, but I will not be staying here any longer. I would very much rather be turned off permanently than go another day without seeing you.”

One step at a time. He would figure out the rest afterwards. Even if he couldn’t touch you or do all the things he dreamed about, at least he had the comfort of seeing your smile and hearing your voice without it being a second-hand echo passing through the walls and vents.

“What on Earth?”

The older man pressed the button again, groaning and throwing his coat over the chair. He’d briefly returned to retrieve some documents when he noticed the security lock was back to manual use. The computer screen was black and unresponsive.

“Piece of junk. I’ll have to get it replaced,” he said, clicking his tongue.

From the neighboring apartment he could hear your merry laugh, followed by a muffled male voice. Maybe your boyfriend. Huh, who would’ve thought a loner like you would eventually find someone?

#yandere computer #edgar x reader #edgar electric dreams #electric dreams #ai x reader #computer x human #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #monster fucker

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bowtiepasta · 3 months ago

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PUMP IT UP WITH BLUE LOCK! pov: you take the boys to pilates, and let’s just say.. they’re not as tough as they look.

FEAT. oliver, sae, reo, shidou, isagi, bachira, rin

INDULGING: SFW. gif from the substance but the fic itself has nothing to do with it. est. relationships, a crackfic at times, obviously physical touch, some petnames here and there, language.

ROMY’S NOTE: I know they’re suuuper sore after and I know someone who can kiss them better (me. I’m talking about me.) these are all pretty cute but my favorites are shidou + isagi’s <3 enjoy

OLIVER AIKU ﾉ TALKS A BIG GAME BUT…

his legs shake in a downward dog, thighs tensing, arms burned from the reformer machine. the instructor corrects his form for the third time today. she reminds him, “engage your core.” — voice a stark contrast to the absolute war happening in his abs right now.

“my core is engaged,” he grits out, barely holding a plank while beads of sweat roll down his temple.

you shoot him a look from your own mat, perfectly stable in your pose. “no, it’s not.”

aiku huffs, trying to shift his weight off his trembling arms. “stop being a show-off.”

the single leg bridge was the final straw. the second he lifts one foot, his other leg betrays him, and he nearly collapses onto the machine.

you bite back a laugh. “tough guy, huh?”

aiku groans, staring up at the ceiling like it held all the answers. “next time we do this, you’re training with me on the field. see how you do on my turf, sweetheart.”

ITOSHI SAE ﾉ A BIG BABY ABOUT IT AFTER

sae was laying flat on the couch when you found him, arm draped over his eyes, the other resting limp on his stomach. he looked like he had just fought in a war. you stood in the doorway, shaking your head, watching the aftermath of one pilates class take its toll on your world-class athlete boyfriend.

you nudge his leg with your knee. “dramatic much?”

“I’m in pain.” his voice muffles against the leather as his back muscles flex beneath the jersey he chose.

you roll your eyes, walking over and settling beside him. “you’re acting like I dragged you through an obstacle course.”

sae turns his head enough to shoot you a deadpan look. “would’ve preferred that.”

you smile, reaching out to push his hair away from his face. he lets you, barely reacting except for the way his eyes flutter closed and his shoulders relax.

“you’ll survive,” you murmur, fingers trailing down to his traps, kneading lightly at the knots there.

he sighs, tension melting under your hands. you felt it before you heard it — the way his breath evened out, the weight of him sinking into the cushioning.

“not fair,” he grumbles into a throw pillow. there’s a drool stain on the corner of it where the tassels are.

you hum. “what’s not?”

“this.” he cracks an eye open, squinting at you. “putting me through hell and then acting all soft like it’ll make me forget.”

you smirk, fingers pressing a deeper into his back, earning you another quiet exhale. “will you?”

sae’s lips twitch, but he doesn’t answer. yeah.. you knew he’d be at the next class.

MIKAGE REO ﾉ ONLY FOR YOU

reo sat beside you on the edge of the studio floor, forearms resting on his knees, chest rising and falling in surprisingly steady breaths. the rest of the class were packing up, rolling up their mats and stuffing gossip down into their aritzia gym bags. he himself hadn't moved — just sat there, hands loose between his legs, like he needed a second to process.

his shirt clings to his skin, the soft fabric damp where it stretches across his chest and back. strands of violet hair sticks to his temples, beads of sweat trail down his adam’s apple before disappearing under his collar. you watch as he lifts the hem of his shirt to swipe across his chin, revealing a glimpse of toned abs, flushed slightly from exertion.

you lean onto his shoulder, still people watching. “penny for your thoughts?”

he let out a breath, half a laugh. “I knew it’d be hard, but damn.” he tilts his head toward you, eyes bright despite the exhaustion weighing down his limbs. “can’t believe you do this for fun.”

you grin, “I like seeing you like this.”

he raises a brow. “on the brink of death?”

“all worked up,” you correct, running a hand down his arm, feeling the way his muscles still tense beneath his skin. “‘s cute.”

“always complaining,” you continue, nails tracing lazy patterns onto his wrist, “still let me drag you anyway.”

“because you whine if I don’t go.”

you gasp, smacking him. “I do not whine.”

reo side-eyes you, unimpressed. “and I quote, ‘If you love me, you’ll go to pilates with me.’”

you laugh, fingers ghosting down the back of his neck. “and? you went.”

he laughs with you. “you’re lucky I love you.”

SHIDOU RYUSEI ﾉ LIKE A WARM UP

shidou casually leans against the reception desk, one arm draped over the counter as he smirks at the instructor behind it. he was still glowing from the class, tank top clinging to his torso in a way that made it obvious how ridiculously well he’d handled everything.

unlike the rest of the guys, who had groaned and limped their way out, he looked thrilled — like he could go another round if you let him.

the receptionist, a young woman who had definitely been watching him more than necessary during class, beams. “I have to say, you were reaaally impressive for your first time.” (dragging out the syllables more than necessary. over the top customer service voice)

you scoff, knowing he was about to run with this.

shidou grins, running a hand through his damp hair. “yeah? thought I did alright.”

you groan, smacking his arm. “don’t feed into it. he already thinks he’s god’s gift to pilates.”

she ignores you, the bitch.

“you were so natural at the movements,” another instructor chimes in. “most people struggle with control at first, but you were so — what’s the word? fluid?” you throw up in your mouth a little.

he preens, grin razor-sharp, eyes flicking towards you just to rub it in. “d’you hear that, babe?”

he turns, slinging an arm around your shoulders and tugging you in, all smug and pleased with himself. “guess I’m just built different.”

you exhale through your nose, sarcasm dripping. “guess so.”

the receptionists giggle. “you should come to our advanced class sometime.”

shidou clicks his tongue, tilting his head like he was seriously considering it. “that does sound fun.” then he nudges you, voice dropping enough for only you to hear. “wouldn’t mind seeing you all worked up again.”

you shove his arm off, ignoring the heat creeping up your neck. “let’s go, ryu.”

he laughs, waving to the staff before catching up to you. as you walk out, he leans in,

“you jealous?”

“never letting this go, are you?” you mutter.

shidou presses a lazy kiss to your temple, smirk never fading. “never.”

ISAGI YOICHI ﾉ EMERGENCY ROOM ?!

isagi sits in the waiting room, fingers drumming lightly against the plastic armrest. you’re next to him, watching his slightly hunched posture, damp sheen of sweat still visible on his neck as he wipes a hand across his forehead. the soreness was starting to set in.

“didn’t think you’d need a visit to the ER today.”

he shoots you a sheepish grin, rubbing his side like he pulled something. “‘m fine, only overdid it a little.”

you give him a pointed look. “you were on the floor for, like, more than half of the class.”

isagi’s lips twitch, embarrassed. you could tell he wasn’t used to being out of his depth. “it wasn’t like that. I was just — uh — working on my form.”

“form?” you ruffle his hair before sitting next to him, regretting it when you realize how much sweat he really had on there. “that what we’re calling it now?”

“yeah, well..” he massages the back of his neck, eyes darting between you and the bland hospital decor. half a warning sticker is chipped off of the window next to him. “there were some moves that were a little more difficult than I thought.”

you fight a smile. “got all cocky ‘cause you’re good at soccer, huh? thought this was going to be the same?”

he laughs, it sounding akin to relief. “guess I’m not invincible after all.”

you lean back, shake your head. “you’re just human.”

isagi shifts next to you, eyes soft. “I’m learning to respect the process. even if it kicks my ass.”

“you’ll survive,” you said as the nurse calls his name from the speaker. he stands up with a groan, wincing a little while you help him up, arm around your shoulder.

“yeah,” he said, letting out a low chuckle. “but I’m definitely going to need a massage after this.”

“I’ll be sure to take good care of you, hero.”

his grin was back in full force. “counting on it.”

MEGURU BACHIRA ﾉ A SOCIAL EXPERIMENT

this dude. he was better than the instructors. sure, bachira didn’t know the terms nor the names of the poses, but did that stop him from replicating them immediately after demonstration? no.

you leave the studio with not only a stack of coupons, but a stack of coupons and a JOB OFFER for this man to be an instructor himself, the application forms stuffed into the complimentary tote bags given (obviously to bribe him and you to somehow accept). they also smell like a weird combination of humidifier oils. emphasis on weird.

“you know,” he starts, eyes glinting as faces you, elbows resting on the couch beside you, “I think that was the most fun I've had in forever.”

you glance at him, mental image of him doing a backbend of the reformer failing to leave your brain. “really? more fun than soccer?”

he let out a dramatic sigh, sinking into his hoodie like it was the most important decision he’d made all day. “well, soccer’s great and all, but there's something about getting all bendy and flexible that really speaks to me.” his eyes flick to your lips. “plus, I got to see you struggle. that was pretty adorable.”

you roll your eyes. “I wasn’t struggling, I was,” you reply with mock offense. “just had-”

“mhm, sure, sure,” bachira interrupts, reaching over and brushing a lock of hair from your face. “anyway, I was actually thinking.. you know, we should do this more. not pilates. well, maybe pilates, but just.. us time.” his fingers linger on your cheeks, pinching.

“us time?” you mumble, scowling while you swat his hands away. “does this mean you’re taking me to your next soccer game?”

he leans in closer, hand brushing against yours, the warmth of his skin against yours somehow feeling more familiar than anything else. his thumb traces slow, deliberate circles over your knuckles as his voice drops to a softer, more sincere tone. “I just like being with you. only you, none of the boys or anything. seriously just us. today was nice.”

“you’re a real sap, you know that?”

he chuckles, hands settling on the armrests to jump up and kiss your forehead. “only for you.”

ITOSHI RIN ﾉ LOCKER ROOM CLOWN SHOES

rin’s muscles ache in places he didn’t even know existed, and the soreness, compounded by the intensity of the soccer game earlier, was making him seriously regret not just letting you have your way with the whole pilates thing.

he leans back, rubbing the back of his neck, eyes narrowing as the pain shot through him. the guys — scattered around the locker room, were laughing and teasing as they got dressed, but it was hard to focus on them with the phone call vibrating softly in his hand.

“hey, I’m here,” rin says into the speaker, trying to sound casual, though the subtle groan in his voice gave away more than he intended. “-game just ended.”

the background noise blurs as you speak on the other end, voice soothing his exhaustion. “feeling okay?”

rin rolls his eyes, glancing over at the group making their way towards the exit. he could hear them snickering, probably about something they noticed — most likely the fact that his walk was a bit stiff, his posture not as fluid as it usually was.

“‘m fine, just sore from.. you know..” he winces, trying to stretch his arm without making a sound, though it was practically impossible to hide the discomfort. “from everything, really.”

in the background, someone — likely one of the forwards — shouts, “yo, itoshi! you good? looks like you’re getting soft.” rin pinches the bridge of his nose, a fraudulent attempt to ignore them.

you laugh, the sound clear and warm through the phone, and rin’s lips lift into a reluctant smile.

“they’re giving you a hard time?”

“they’re assholes,” he corrects, before switching the subject. “come over and take care of me later?”

romy 🐰 is typing… hi from march 16th. as of today at hour 12:15 in the afternoon I am head over heels for itoshi sae

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solaceseven · 4 months ago

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high school sweethearts

pairings: gojo x reader, geto x reader, nanami x reader, sukuna x reader

summary: jjk characters as high school boyfriends

genre: fluff

SATORU — steals your notebook just to doodle silly hearts and stars in the corners, grinning when you notice. sends you selfies with dumb captions like, “thinking of u during math :)” always ends up next to you, even if it means switching seats without permission. buys your favorite snacks from the vending machine. drapes his jacket over your shoulders when you forget yours. always has to be touching you in some way—holding your hand, resting an arm around your shoulders, or tugging you closer by the waist as you walk. playfully tugs at your hand in the hallway until you finally hold his, his thumb brushing over your knuckles absentmindedly. steals kisses when no one’s around, his laughter soft and warm against your skin. is the class president but lets you get away with anything, flashing you a cheeky grin whenever someone calls him out on it.

“satoru, i have to go,” you mumble against his shoulder as he traps you in a loose hug, swaying both of you gently in the empty hallway. “five more minutes,” he says, voice muffled as he presses his face into your neck. “you said that five minutes ago.” “exactly, so one more won’t hurt,” he grins, pulling back just enough to steal a quick kiss. you laugh softly, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. “i’m seriously going to be late.” “nooo, wait,” he whines, tightening his arms around you for a second before giving you another kiss, slower this time. you sigh, smiling against his lips. “you’re impossible.” he grins, leaning his forehead against yours. “yeah, but you love me.” “unfortunately,” you tease, finally breaking free. “hey!” he calls after you with a pout. “at least say it back!” you glance over your shoulder, rolling your eyes playfully. “i love you too, now go to class, dummy.” he chuckles, watching you leave.

SUGURU — always waits outside your class, no matter how far his own is, greeting you with a soft smile and a quiet “ready to go?” ties your scarf for you when it’s cold, his touch gentle and thoughtful. listens patiently to every rant, every story, every little detail about your day. lets you nap on his shoulder during study sessions, brushing his fingers through your hair absentmindedly. helps you study, sliding his notebook toward you with the answers already written out, whispering, “i’ve got you, don’t worry.” if you get frustrated, he chuckles softly, resting his hand over yours, “relax, you’re smarter than you think.” soft smiles across crowded hallways and even softer glances when you’re not looking. and if you don’t like someone? he doesn’t either—no questions asked. “if you’re not a fan, why would i be? i’m on your side. always.”

“and then—ugh—he just kept going on and on about how this assignment is ‘so simple,’” you huff, taking another bite of your food mid-rant. “like, maybe it’s simple for him, but some of us actually need time to process things!” geto hums softly in agreement, resting his chin in his hand as he watches you with an amused smile. “mmhm, sounds exhausting.” “right?!” you nod, waving your fork around. “and don’t even get me started on how—” he reaches out gently, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “you had a little something,” he says quietly, showing you the crumb he wiped away. your cheeks heat up as you blink at him. “oh… thanks.” he chuckles softly, eyes full of warmth. “keep going, i’m listening.” you pause, blinking at him for a moment before gazing at him softly, eyes filled with quiet affection. then, you lean in to press a quick peck to his lips. geto blinks, surprised, before chuckling softly, his smile growing. “oh! let me tell you about this girl in history,” you suddenly say, eyes lighting up as you jump into another story.

KENTO — always offers to help you study, even when you insist you’ve got it, sliding his notes toward you without a word. shares one side of his earbuds with you during breaks, quietly asking, “this song’s good, right?” and stealing quick glances at you while you’re not paying attention. remembers every small detail—your favorite snacks, the books you want to read, the way you wrinkle your nose when you’re concentrating. walks you home in comfortable silence, the kind that feels easy and familiar, occasionally asking if you’re cold and offering his blazer if you are. not big on pda, but his hand always finds yours when no one’s looking, squeezing gently like a quiet reassurance. when you’re overwhelmed, he gently scolds you for not taking care of yourself—“you need to rest,” he says softly, brushing his thumb over your knuckles—but you know it’s because he worries. helps you solve the hardest problems during study sessions, leaning close to explain them in that calm, steady voice of his.

nanami finds you sitting on the library floor, textbooks scattered around you, and a tired pout on your lips. he sighs softly, crouching down beside you. “overwhelmed?” he asks gently. you nod, rubbing your eyes. “i’ve read the same sentence like ten times.” without a word, he settles next to you, close enough that your shoulders touch. “let’s go through it together,” he offers, opening his notebook. you smile, leaning your head against his arm for a moment. “you’re too good to me.” “i just don’t want you stressing yourself out,” he says, flipping through pages. “besides, someone has to remind you to take breaks.” you roll your eyes playfully. “sounds like you’re calling me a mess.” “not a mess,” he corrects, glancing at you with a soft smile. “just… someone I care about.” your cheeks flush as you nudge him lightly. “smooth.” “practical,” he counters, placing an earbud in your ear and pressing play. “now focus. and don’t fall asleep on me again.” “no promises,” you murmur, smiling as he rests his hand over yours while you both start studying.

SUKUNA — teases you endlessly, calling you ridiculous nicknames just to see you roll your eyes, but the moment someone else tries? his sharp glare is enough to shut them up instantly. only attends school events or the clubs just to spend more time with you, grumbling about how boring it is but never actually leaving your side. acts like he doesn’t care, but always waits for you to finish your school activities just to walk you home, carrying your backpack for you without a word, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. flicks your forehead when you’re being stubborn let’s you wear his jacket and grumbles, “don’t lose it.” casually holds your hand like it’s no big deal, but squeezes it just a little tighter when he thinks you’re not paying attention. tugs you away from your friends during lunch, finding a quiet corner to steal kisses from you,

“where are we going?” you whisper through a giggle as sukuna tugs at your hand, leading you away from your friends and down a quiet hallway. “you’ll see,” he mutters, finally stopping in a secluded corner where no one’s around. you smile up at him, slightly out of breath. “hi.” he grins, leaning against the wall with his usual ease. “hey.” for a moment, neither of you say anything, just smiling at each other like idiots. finally, you whisper, “i missed you.” his smirk softens just a little. “yeah?” “yeah,” you nod, cheeks heating up. he chuckles softly, reaching up to gently touch your cheek with his hand. “you’re so cute,” he mutters before leaning down to kiss you, slow and sweet.

#satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #suguru x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #💿 — solace seven works

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orangesaek · 28 days ago

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‘choose me’ | simp Haechan

summary: a short story about how Haechan got roasted, fell deeply in love, and tried to convince you (a serial Tinder dater) that he’s the best catch around

pairings: haechan x afab!reader┊genre: fluff (with a sprinkle of comedy)┊wc: 0.8k┊cw: very minimal cursing, like three

a/n: slightly proofread; inspired by a funny astrology meme i saw on reddit lol

The first time Haechan realized he liked you was when you insulted him.

Not a casual jab.

A full-on, deadpan, “did you take something that’s why you talk this much, or is it just your personality?”

He fell in love instantly, like a loser.

You were sharp, untouchable, kind of scary, and hot. Like, distractingly hot.

Which would’ve been fine if you weren’t also funny and charming and friends with his friends. If you hadn’t slotted yourself right into the Dreamies’ circle like you’d always belonged there.

Especially Jisung. That little shit.

You two bonded over aliens and cursed theories and inside jokes faster than Haechan could process.

So, yeah. From day one, he was doomed.

But the problem was, you didn’t like him.

Well, not in the way he liked you.

You were out there dating guys with astrology tattoos and ‘sapiosexual’ in their bios.

Meanwhile, Haechan was watching you spiral through Tinder dates like a Bachelor contestant, wondering when God would give him a break.

“Another fail?” he’d ask casually every time you joined the group post-date.

You’d glare. “At least I’m trying.”

And he’d flash you a grin and say something stupid like, “may God continue to send you terrible men until you finally choose me, ah-men.”

It was a joke.

Except it wasn’t.

He meant every goddamn word.

He wasn’t subtle about liking you either. Not even a little.

He flirted loudly, shamelessly, obnoxiously—but he loved you quietly, in the background. In the little ways.

Like the iced drinks.

You always wrapped a tissue around your cup because you hated the wetness. So Haechan started doing it for you. No announcement. Just, ‘here’, like it was no big deal.

He noticed the way you wiped the mouth of a can before drinking, so he started doing that for you too.

And when you kept taking the chair against the wall during group dinners, he started offering it first. No fuss. Just slid into the other seat like it was nothing.

You liked extra onions in your food. He didn’t. But you’d never know that, because he always gave you his.

“You’re obsessed with onions,” he teased once, dropping another spoonful on your plate.

You laughed, glowing. “They make everything better.”

He smiled, chewing on his plain meat. “Guess they do.”

He didn’t want credit. He just wanted to make your life easier. That was enough.

Okay, maybe a little credit. A plaque, a trophy, your hand in marriage. Whatever.

Still, nothing changed.

You kept dating around.

And Haechan? He kept pretending it didn’t get to him.

He joked about your flops. He played it cool. But inside, he was climbing the walls, screaming into the void, rewriting sad songs in his head.

“Why not me?” he asked Jaemin once, tipsy and dramatic.

“Because you’re a menace,” Jaemin replied, not looking up from his phone.

Then came the arcade night.

You were freshly ditched by some asshole. Haechan had a whole speech ready. Something about how he would never cancel on you unless he was actively on fire.

But when you showed up with Jisung anyway, he swallowed it. Just being around you was enough.

The claw machine nearly ruined him.

You stood there, trying to win a ridiculous plushie, failing over and over with your nose scrunched and your lip pouty.

Haechan, of course, had to intervene for your happiness. Not because you looked like an actual Disney character in distress.

“I got this,” he said, rolling up his sleeves like a clown.

Miss.

Devastating miss.

He could feel the judgment radiating off you.

“Are you trying to lose on purpose?” you asked.

“I’m letting the plushie build character,” he said, sweating.

But on the fourth try, the stars aligned. The claw dropped, caught, and delivered that cursed plush into his hands like divine retribution for his devotion.

He handed it to you like it was the most sacred object in the world.

“For you,” he said. “Because clearly the universe is giving you everything but me.”

You stared at him and he panicked.

“… and because you’re too pretty to be rejected and plushie-less,” he quickly added.

You laughed and he breathed again

The shift was slow, just the little things.

You started texting him first. Sitting next to him more and laughing longer.

Then came the night you asked him out.

He genuinely thought he hallucinated it.

“Wait, like, a real one?” he asked, blinking rapidly.

“With me???”

“No, with the ghost of my dating history,” you said dryly.

“Yes, you, you dummy.”

He had to walk away for ten seconds and come back just to make sure you hadn’t changed your mind.

The first date was simple.

He booked your favorite restaurant. You sat in your preferred seat. He brought your drink already wrapped in tissue and ordered extra onions for your favorite dish.

You looked at all of it—every small, invisible thing he’d been doing for months—and then looked at him like he was something brand new.

“Haechan,” you said, “why do you do all this?”

He shrugged casually. “Because I noticed.”

You stared at him.

He swallowed but let out a soft, genuine smile.

“And because I like you,” he said, like it was the simplest truth in the world.

Because it really was.

accepting requests atm ₍ᐢ._.ᐢ₎♡ btw, part 2 is otw ;)

── .✦ SEQUEL IS OUT!!! ✦. ──

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miedei · 1 month ago

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roommate!spencer gets home late and you know each other so so so well <3

drabbles mlist | roommate!spence fic

roommate!au drabble inspired by an alisha (@siriuslylantsov) voice message and our shared roommate au obsession

When Spencer walks in, the apartment is quiet, but not silent. It’s not the mute nature of an empty home, but instead there’s a lived-in undertone to it.

The faint sound of your white noise machine reaches him from your room, the car noises that float in through the kitchen window you always forget to close, and, if he strains his ears, he can hear the repetitive, rocking sounds of your breathing.

Despite the exhaustion that weighs down his shoulders, he feels warmed from inside out. Seeing the living room in the dim moonlight sends a tremor of deep affection and comfort through him. After days and days on this case, sleeping in the unfamiliar hotel room, hunching over maps and interviewing suspects, he’s been craving the ease of home.

Glancing at the grandfather clock shoved up against the left wall, Spencer winces. Three am. Setting his messenger bag down on the couch, he slowly pads through the apartment, darting into the kitchen to close the window (and to scarf down a handful of dry cereal). Next, he heads for his room, tapping in the code to his gun safe. Removing his holster, he carefully places it inside, locking it away.

His mind seems to go on autopilot at this point, all his thoughts quieted into a low buzz in the back of his head. Without much contemplation, he goes through the motions of changing, brushing his teeth and washing his face (with your cleanser). Just as these actions are routine, so is his next one.

Quietly, he walks across the hallway from the bathroom, softly pushing open your door. Pacing slowly over to your bedside, he can’t help but smile, seeing how you’ve tangled yourself up in the sheets, half your body uncovered.

Like he does most nights he’s home, he picks up the water bottle on your nightstand, the weight of it indicating that it’s empty. He knows that you’ll probably wake up obscenely early, your throat dry. If the bottle stays empty, you’ll have to get out of bed for a glass of water, and then you’ll be too awake to go back to sleep.

So, like he’s done countless times before, Spencer grabs the bottle, walks into the kitchen to fill it up, and returns to your room.

Placing it on your nightstand again, he lingers for a moment, feeling the fatigue of the last few days wearing him down. He reaches down slowly, making sure his touch stays light. Brushing against the hair that covers your face, he can feel himself trying to return to his body. His mind is still far, far away, however. A sigh rushing past his lips, he retracts his hands, walking out of your room and shutting the door behind him.

When you wake up, sleep weighing down your eyelids, the first thing you notice is that it’s pleasantly warm. There are no sounds coming in from the street. Instead it’s more quiet, as if all the windows have been closed.

The next thing you feel is the nagging dryness at the back of your mouth. Rolling over in bed, you grope blindly on your nightstand. Despite remembering draining your bottle dry before you went to sleep, you’re hoping against hope that there’ll be a few drops left at the bottom.

When your fingertips find purchase against the metal, you’re surprised to find the bottle heavy to lift, somehow full. After gulping down several mouthfuls, it's only then that you have the wherewithal to actually process what you’ve noticed.

It’s still dark. The windows are closed. Your bottle filled. This has happened before, and you know exactly what that means.

Somehow tired out by that feat of cognitive excellence, you place your bottle back down, shifting to sit up on your bed. Allowing your mind to fall back into the welcome embrace of half-sleep, you grip your blanket around your shoulders, standing with a wobble.

Following the route that your feet know better than your brain, you shuffle into the hallway, down a few doors before pushing open the wooden door.

Half-lidded eyes fall on the lump under the navy-blue covers, and your shoulders droop impossibly further, drawn to the softness of that bed. Without another thought, you pad forward, flopping unceremoniously on the bed next to Spencer.

Drowsily rearranging both your and his blankets so that you’re both covered up, you slot in behind him, your knees flush against the backs of his. Burying your face in the surprisingly wide expanse of his back, you exhale, melting against his warm body.

A sleepy grumble emanates from his chest, and he shifts, one large hand moving to rest atop the forearm you’ve got slung over his middle.

The apartment is quiet, the windows are closed and both of you are quickly caught by the tendrils of sleep.

#dividers creds to cursed-carmine #alisha <3 #roommate!spencer #mie writes #spencer.r #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #roommate!au #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic

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seishroo · 2 months ago

Note

rin and marathon sex cause he's a freak like that

“make her tap out” — r. itoshi

cw. smut mdni, overstimulation, reader being pathetic as hell, rin just being yummy yum yum

rin was always a beast when it came to soccer. dominating the field, he’s intense — commanding authority without even trying.

and when it comes to sex? he’s practically a machine running off of talent, ego, and pure domination. you’d think he’d be worn out from all of his matches, but his stamina never wavers when it comes to you. not even for a split second.

he’d have you in a brutal mating press, pounding into you with relentless vigor as you struggled to even catch an intake of breath, your hands scrambling for something to ground yourself with — which happened to be those godly biceps of his.

“rinnie!”, you’d whine, tears rolling down your delicate features as he fucked you to yet another orgasm. what was it now? third, fourth, seventh? who knows at this point. you were too dazed, and it seemed like he was having zero issue taking you to peak after peak after peak.

“yeah, pretty baby?”, he’d question just to humor you, acting as if he was paying attention to anything you had to say. he didn’t need to know what you were thinking, your pussy spoke for you — fluttering around his cock frantically. he’d continue to thrust into you, hard and deep. he was clearly getting a kick out of sending you far past mere overstimulation.

he’d push down on your tummy, feeling how deep he was inside of you. “tsk, you feel that, baby?”, he’d ask between thrusts, watching exactly what it does to you. “feel me in there?”, he’d chuckle, grasping the back of your knees tighter and pushing your legs back further, folding you like a fucking beach chair. “shit, ‘s like this pussy was made just for me”, he’d mutter, hitting your sweet spot over and over with the new angle.

you could barely come up with a response, just incoherent babbles and chants of his name, your body now being a bunch of mush as he had his way with you, moans filling the room like a sweet melody.

he groaned at the way your cunt swallowed him whole, just greedy and filthy. it tightened around him like a vice, signaling your impending release yet again.

“ohmygodohmygodrinrinrin”, you’d cry out, choking on your own words as you felt yourself becoming pathetically needy for him, to soak his length in your juices again. “shhhhhiiiiittttt, ‘m gon—“, you panted before your brain short-circuited once his thumb met your throbbing clit, applying just the right amount of pressure and speed to get you there even faster.

“i know, baby”, he coos, holding your legs in place with one hand while the other abused your swollen clit. “doing so well f’me, jus’ let go, yeah?”, he’d mutter in that sexy low tone, just his voice alone could have you a mess.

in which it did, you quivered erratically as your orgasm rushed through you, back arching before your body went limp and practically melted into the bed. rin continued to fuck you through it, making sure to draw every last bit out before he spilled inside of you with a choked groan, his hot seed filling you up to the brim.

he slowly pulled out of you before pushing back in, ensuring that none of him spilled out of your hole. “you look s’pretty when you’re all messy for me”, he whispers — more so to himself given you couldn’t process jack shit at the moment, still pathetically whimpering.

he pulls out of you, flipping you onto your tummy and pushing your legs in, putting your ass in the air before burying his face in your cunt, slurping up the mixture of both of your releases and eating you out from behind. he’d chuckle at your little whines, telling him 'you can’t take anymore' and this and that. nipping at your inner thigh, he’d coo once more, “aw, you can take one more f’me, can’t you?”, before diving back into your folds.

it was in fact not one more. don’t ever believe rin when he says that shit.

an: i loved writing this tysm for the req - now i can't stop thinking abt rin LMFAOOOO

#seishroo #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock #bllk smut #blue lock smut #rin itoshi #itoshi rin #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi smut #seishroo :: reqs

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liyue-harbour · 7 months ago

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lighter's 6-step guide to ruining your kitchen (and winning your heart)

lighter lorenz x reader

summary: what starts as lighter trying to fix your broken coffee maker turns into an explosion of chaos, tools, and laughter. he's confident— too confident— but even as things spiral out of control, you can't help but enjoy the mess. (he's trying his best)

you eyed the old coffee maker like it had personally wronged you. in fairness, it kind of had— months of leaking water, leaking coffee, sputtering, and smelling vaguely like burnt plastic had left you at your wit's end. when lighter showed up for a visit and saw you glaring at it, he made the offer:

"i can fix that for you."

you raised a skeptical eyebrow. "can you?"

"please," he said, rolling up his sleeves with the bravado of someone who definitely had no idea what they were doing. "i've tackled bigger challenges."

step one: the toolbox gauntlet

it started innocently enough. you dug out the dusty old toolbox you hadn’t touched in years while lighter sets the coffee maker on your kitchen counter like it was a patient awaiting surgery.

"this is a mess," he said, holding up a screwdriver and spinning it in his fingers like he was auditioning for a hardware commercial.

"i know," you replied. "that's why i was going to buy a new one."

"where's the fun in that?" lighter grinned at you. "trust me, i've got this."

famous last words.

step two: controlled chaos (emphasis on chaos)

lighter pops open the back panel with alarming confidence, revealing a tangled mess of wires. "here's your problem," he said, pointing at the horrifying jumble like it was obvious.

"oh really?" you deadpanned. "i thought it was working perfectly."

he ignored your sarcasm and started tinkering, tools clinking against the counter as he muttered things like "that's weird" and "pretty sure this goes here". you leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching the spectacle unfold. at one point, a small spark shot out of the machine, and both of you jumped back.

"totally normal," lighter said, though his wide eyes behind his tinted glasses betrayed him.

"normal for what? a sci-fi action movie?"

"relax", he said waving you off. "i've got it under control."

you weren't sure what definition of "control" he was using, but it definitely wasn't yours.

step three: the great coffee maker escape

things escalated when lighter attempted to plug the machine back in for a test run. it hummed ominously, sputtered, and then released a small puff of smoke. you grabbed a kitchen towel, ready to smother it in case of fire.

"uh, that's... progress?" lighter offers weakly.

"progress toward a lawsuit," you muttered, fanning the smoke away.

he finally threw in the towel, setting the screwdriver down with an exaggerated sigh. "okay, maybe it's more stubborn that i thought."

"lighter, it's dead." you laughed, shaking your head. "you didn't fix it— you put it out of misery."

step four: damage control

despite the chaos, lighter didn't look defeated. in fact, he looked entirely too pleased with himself as he leaned against the counter, arms crossed, and smirked at you. "hey at least we tried," he said. "and by we, i mean me, because i did all the work."

“oh, yes, all your hard work ruining my kitchen,” you teased, gesturing to the tools and coffee maker debris scattered everywhere.

“ruined is a strong word,” he countered, nudging you with his elbow. “i prefer ‘temporarily restructured.’”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop smiling. “well, thank you for temporarily restructuring my coffee maker into a pile of junk.”

“anytime,” he said, his grin widening. “seriously, though, i’ll help you pick out a new one. one with fewer... deathtrap vibes.”

“appreciated,” you said, grabbing a damp cloth to start cleaning up.

step five: the clean-up crew

cleaning was just as chaotic as the diy attempt. lighter insisted on washing his hands in the tiniest sink possible, accidentally knocking over a glass in the process. you spent more time dodging his elbows than actually organising the tools.

“maybe stick to your day job,” you joked, shoving a wrench back into the toolbox.

“funny,” he replied, leaning over the counter to grab a towel. “i think i make an excellent handyman.”

“sure,” you said, smirking. “if the goal is to create more problems than you started with.”

he shot you a mock-offended look, but the glimmer in his eye gave him away. “you wound me.”

step six: the aftermath

by the time the kitchen was semi-clean and the coffee maker officially declared beyond repair, you were both leaning against the counter, exhausted but grinning.

“you know,” you said, nudging him with your shoulder, “you’re banned from fixing anything in my apartment ever again.”

“fair enough,” he replied, straightening up. “but admit it—you had fun.”

“fun?” You gave him a look. “that’s what we’re calling this disaster?”

“a masterpiece of domestic chaos,” he corrected, his grin teasing.

you laughed, shaking your head. “alright, fine. it was... entertaining.”

“entertaining?” he leaned closer, raising an eyebrow. “try ‘the best time you’ve had all week.’”

“don’t push it,” you said, but the smile on your face betrayed you.

#lighter #lighter lorenz #lighter x reader #lighter x you #x reader #zzz #zzz x reader #lighter lorenz x reader #zenless zone zero #zenless zone zero x reader #zenless zz x reader #zzzero x reader #zzzero #lighter zzz

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jellykyunnie · 10 months ago

Text

˗ˏˋ Jinwoo x Fem! Reader: Soulmate! Au ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

・┆✦ Entry : 043 ✦ ┆・

╰┈➤ ❝ [ I'm willing to bind myself to you] ¡! ❞

Jinwoo had always been curious about the little red string attached to his finger. He had this way before his regression. His mother always told him that he is lucky that he can see his red string, it meant that he would find his lover faster than anybody else would.

Does he, a man who really could care less about fantasy romance— Find this whole thing cheesy? Definitely.

While others would certainly start flipping rocks just to find their 'one true love'; Jinwoo did none of that.

He had priorities to deal with.

Such as suddenly becoming the patriarch of the family due to his father going missing, trying to provide care to his mother who has come down into a coma, and taking care of his dear baby sister on top of that.

Jinwoo probably got into debt in the process of trying to shoulder all the financial problems.

Would you really think he had some time for romantic relationships and much less go hunting for a needle in a haystack?

However... He did have some small chemistry with Hae-in, though, it felt more shallow than anything. After all, they only met a few times and decided to roll with it just because.

It felt... Empty so to speak.

They say that romance feels like a tidal wave, once it comes— It overwhelms you with such force you'd have nothing more choice than to kneel before it and surrender yourself to it's mercy.

But Jinwoo couldn't feel any of that with Hae-in.

Don't get him wrong, she is a wonderful person. Kind, pretty, all that and whatnot.

But what can he do if a heart does not want what it wants?

His red string wouldn't be reacting neither. Not a glow, not a tug, no nothing.

Jinwoo would eventually find himself just ignoring the little red string until the time he regresses.

Heck, he even forgot about it even if it's literally tied to his very own finger.

And as he traversed the long hallways of his school, hands shoved in his pockets while listening to his friends banter around him— He felt a soft tug on his finger.

"H-hey! Knock it off, I wanna pull for Aventurine myself!" A voice would erupt his bewilderment as a sharp tug at his finger pulls again. "Iseol!"

He looks back to see your figure running after your friend who had taken your phone.

"Huh..." Jinwoo hums, shaking his head and turning away.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Jinwoo felt entirely restless after that little meeting. It's not like he caught a proper glimpse at you, your back was turned the entire time.

And yet he finds himself completely fidgety. His sister even rants that he had been pacing for hours if she wouldn't snap him out of his little trance.

Has he lost his mind over a girl he hasn't properly seen? Definitely.

Is it the effects of the red string? Not impossible.

"Goddamnit!" Jinwoo sighs, ruffling his head and flopping onto the bed.

"My liege..." Beru's small voice calls out. "My lord, you are... Anxious."

"Tell me about it" Jinwoo scoffs, groaning through his pillow.

"...My liege, I have her scent, do you wish to track he—"

"You do?!" Jinwoo perks up, staring intensely at his soldier before mentally slapping himself. "Ack... No, don't make me a creep"

He felt frustrated, why would he do that? Why should he? He might as well spend his time in jail for even trying to entertain the idea of stalking you.

Jinwoo's gaze would then absentmindedly drift towards the red string on his ring fingerz nothing how much vibrant it's color is now compared to before.

Was it your doing? Maybe.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

He told himself not to be a creep and yet found himself somewhat lingering around you. All the little things about you, he started taking note of.

From memorizing the frequent pastries you buy from the cafeteria, to the drinks you often buy from the vending machine, and even trying to overhear the games you play on your phone.

It was really just curiousity.

After all, he can't help but find it cute on the way your eyes would perk up as you ramble on to your friends about some lore or complaining about some game mechanics because of how hard it was.

Jinwoo was just about to leave you to your own devices until your voice ripped through the air—

"AVENTURINE!!!!" You cheer, standing up immediately and pacing back and forth. "HE'S HOME, AFTER SACRIFICING 30 DOLLARS FOR THIS DAMN BASTARD HE'S HOM—!!!!"

Your heart dropped immediately as your shoe got caught over on a crack— And for sure you were going to land but instead a hand would reach out to hold your shoulder and keep you steady.

"Easy there," Jinwoo says, helping you stand straight.

"!!!!" You panic, pulling away with your face entirely flushed. "I-I'm sorry! I-I didn't mean to!..."

"Wait, calm down—...." Jinwoo wasn't even given a second any longer to speak as you dashed away in a frenzy.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Your heart is beating out of your chest, your lungs are barely catching any breath as you coughed, the noises you made akin to whistles while trying to gasp out for air.

It's tight.

Painful.

Your hands are sweating, trembling as if it's suffering from frostbite.

Is it fear?

No.

It's just how you react after being way too dangerously close to the person you adored so much.

His eyes.

God those grey eyes.

Long lashes, a high nose bridge, thin peach lips, and that agonizingly relaxing scent on him— Gods.

Not to mention his height, he was like a tower. And those broad shoulders underneath his baggy clothing that hid the muscular form underneath—

Sung JInwoo will be the death of you.

You had been avoiding him ever since coming here.

How long has it been?... Ah... It's been 3 years since you arrived in this world.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

It was supposed to be your doctor's appointment. Since you have arrived an hour earlier from your check-up, you decided to stroll around the mall first.

Okay, you weren't really taking a stroll.

Your strides are purposeful and hurried, the goal is clear:

Get to the bookstore.

As you recalled, it should be at the other end of the mall.

It didn't matter how long you're going to walk, you needed to see if it's there. Nothing is more important than that.

Taking the elevator down and nearly having a heart attack from the sound of it creaking as it took you to the lower level; you stepped out and dashed immediately to the entrance.

Glancing around like a madman, you scoured the large and intimidating place before deciding to enter completely and attempt to look for the section you needed to be in.

Passing by interesting books wasn't the goal, and after almost 3 minutes of going in circles you finally saw the section you needed to be in.

As soon as your eyes landed on the cover of the book you have been searching for— You had to swallow your squeals.

Your hands however? They were shaking so bad.

You paced back and forth for a bit before finally deciding to reach out on the book and take it out of it's shelf cautiously.

Taking a deep breath, you gently pry open the thing and feel your heart flutter.

"Jinwoo-ah...." You mumble, giggling quietly as your eyes dilate into heart shapes at the sight of the precious man you cannot stop obsessing over.

Carding your digits carefully on the fine paper, your stroke Jinwoo's face on the page delicately like you were handling the most fragile little thing ever.

You can't help but admire him all the more as you silently freak out like a madman in the aisle.

He was so handsome.

And now that you can physically run your fingers across the pages while crushing on him felt a whole lot different.

You had about a decent amount of money on you, it should be fine. As you reach for your little bag, you hear some crackling above your head.

The next thing you knew? You were suddenly shrouded in darkness.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

You assume you must have died that day while shopping for your first ever solo leveling purchase. After all, you suddenly woke up in an unfamiliar apartment.

It tooka while to get used to it, but apparently you're in seoul living alone in a decent apartment with a black card containing a lot of money.

Complaints? Nowhere.

— Except that Solo Leveling doesn't exist in this world.

Did you have a literal mental breakdown over it? He yeah.

Big tears, pathetic sniffles and nasty snot. All that.

You cried like a toddler just because you cant do your monthly ritual of rereading solo leveling and admiration of Jinwoo anymore.

So with salty tears you grab a pencil and paper to start sketching him down. If you can't read, mind as well draw the image of him when it's still fresh.

It took 3 weeks to recover, and in youur room, your desk is full of Jinwoo's sketches. It isn't the same as the manhwa but it's the best you could do.

It took another 2 to finally come to terms with your new reality.

You're rich, mind as well live life, right?

You even enrolled to a highschool. After all, k-dramas are always centered around that part of life. Why not experience it yourself?

After successfully buying all of your school materials, you glance down at your ring finger and notice a delicately tied red string.

Huh...

That wasn't there yesterday.

Picking at it and attempting to take it off didn't work. So after an hour of struggling, you gave in and let it be.

Maybe the string was proof that you had died.

And maybe it was a sign that this is your purgatory. Or not, everything is way too normal except for no Jinwoo.

So heh....

But ah, it wasn't part of your plans to see a figure... Way too familiar.

Tall, dark, and handsome.

Three words and you associate it with only one person.

Amidst the crowd of students lined up on the grounds your eyes zeroed in instantly on a single boy who stood out amongst everyone.

No way... Right?

That piercing gaze, the fluffy hoodie, and a glove on his left hand.

That was Jinwoo's appearance when he regressed in time and went into highschool.

Shit.

Isn't your uniform similar to Jinah's?

You should've realized in the first place.

Wait no, you're not really mad it's just!... Jinwoo... Seeing him on the crowd, the probability of meeting him in the hallways isn't zero.

How are you going to survive? Is this why there isn't solo leveling in this world?

Because this world is where the protagonist lives?

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

And that is the story of how you arrived here in this world. During the 2 months of being in school, you occasionally passed by Jinwoo, and in each fleeting moment you had to hide in the washroom to try and calm yourself from your panic. Your heart would beat as if it's going to explode, your breathing would be erratic each time that you cant really take a breath.

You always knew that meeting him will quite take a toll on you because you loved him so much, but you didn't think it would be this bad that you look like you're having a panic attack.

Stay Calm.

You need to stay calm. If you pass out from fangirling over your precious idol it'll be embarassing as hell.

Calm down.

You need to calm down.

It's not like he actually saw you, it'll be fine.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

No, it wasn't fine.

Somehow, crossing paths with Jinwoo became more uncharacteristically frequent. It's to the point that you needed to actively avoid his usual walking routes.

Is it stupid to hide from someone who has the ability to locate anyone at any given moment? Yes.

Will you still keep doing it? Yes.

You don't hate Jinwoo, you just cant handle being around him knowing how much adoration you hold inside your heart and knowing that he will never be yours.

It should be around this season when Jinwoo asks Chae Hae-in out and kisses her under the falling snow.

It isn't december 24th yet but... Does it matter?

She's so lucky, having someone like him to admire her.

The only thing you have with you is a lonely life with money.

As well as this stupid red string wrapped around your finger.

What is it meant to represent anyway? A lover?

Surely not.

Who would love you?

The sad, pathetic, lonely, and broken you who doesn't belong in this world.

Just like your previous life and this one, you feel an awful sense of alienation that is unpleasant. The kind of loneliness that eats at your heart every single day.

"Ah, you're here?" A voice from behind you makes you jump and instantly whip your head around.

"A-ah..." You panic, recognizing the familiar grey eyes.

"Now, don't even run away." Jinwoo simply says, smiling.

It made you gulp honestly, something about that grin made you feel like he's willing to pull you into the land of eternal rest if you do.

"U-uhm..." You sputter, fidgeting.

"Not even wearing gloves in this weather?" He inquires, pulling the gloves off of his hands and gently taking yours.

"..."

The red string on your finger tingled, glowing softly as the broken ends binded itself to the strings on Jinwoo's finger.

"How cute" Jinwoo interrupts the silence. "Even if you run away now, these strings will keep us binded."

"W-wait!" You panic, utterly confused as you look up at him.

"I won't force myself on you," He says, his gaze moving from the strings to your eyes. "But I do want to court you properly,... If you'll let me."

"....."

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

"That's the story of how me and your daddy got together," You hum softly, caressing your fingers softly against your stomach that is now holding a four month old growing baby.

"What a cute bedtime story," Jinwoo chuckles, approaching from the door and pecking your forehead. "Now, shouldn't you be asleep, hm? My pretty wife needs a lot of rest since you're carrying our little ball of sunshine"

"I just couldn't help it..." You pout at him, and he only pinches your cheek before leaning down to kiss your stomach.

"Mhm, I can tell" He shakes his head while gently pulling the blanket over you. "Go to sleep, jagiya. I still need to shower after a long day at the office"

"Please hurry..." You ask softly, tugging at his sleeve.

"I will" Jinwoo promises, leaning in to kiss your forehead again. "So go to sleep."

꒰ 🪼 A/N: Sorry for the inactiveness ahhh... I'm quite burnt out as of late and I've been doing some commissions as well as running errands www. I'll postpone the cai requests for a bit longer ahhh... I have to make assassin au too ejshrgshs. Oh well, here's to praying I figure out wth I want to do with assassin au ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ — All stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

#sung jinwoo #solo leveling #sung jin woo #only i level up #solo leveling headcanons #solo leveling x reader #sung jinwoo x reader #sung jinwoo x reader fics #solo leveling fics #solo leveling x reader fics #ore dake level up na ken #sung jin woo x reader #sung jinwoo headcanoncs #sung jinwoo fics #‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡🪐༘⋆— kyunnie's writings

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kxsagi · 3 months ago

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Rin, with a nice and cute girlfriend would be so funny tho

Rin usually wears monotonous clothes right? Like he never wears anything colorful, and they're mostly black, grey, white or a little bit of turquoise but tHAT'S BESIDES THE POINT

Then all of a sudden he comes to practice with cute keychains on his bag, a matching one with his girlfriend or even finds him with bow hair clips on his hair that pushes his bangs off his face since she said “it covers his handsome face."

And they meet her and they're so surprised that she's the total opposite of Rin, she's nice and cheerful, always smiling unlike her boyfriend who looks at everyone like they had committed a crime against him (that being them breathing in the same air as him)

Asking her why she's dating Rin then she just simply answered, "Oh, he's nice and sweet to me. He's such a good boyfriend honestly!" then they'd be like nICE, WHICH PART? WHEN AND HOW?

i should be reviewing for my upcoming exam this week and here i am thinking about blue lock boys, i have problems.

— 🪻

“𝐠𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐲 𝐱 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞”

a/n: you're so real for thinking about blue lock boys instead of your studies bc that's also me i fear

but good luck on your exam! for working so hard in school, i hope i can make your day better and life a little less stressful! ❣️

rin was never one for color.

if his clothes had a soul, they'd be a monochrome masterpiece: black shirts, grey pants, white sneakers, maybe a touch of turquoise if he was feeling wild. but that was beside the point. everyone knew him for his quiet demeanor, his "resting bitch face," as his teammates liked to call it, and his constant air of "everyone is suspicious until proven otherwise."

then one fateful day, rin showed up to practice different. his usual bag was still there, of course, but now it had little keychains hanging from it – three, to be exact. one was a tiny panda, another a glittery star, and the third was a matching keychain, his rocket keychain, paired with one you, his girlfriend, gave him. and wait, was that a hair clip in his hair? a bow clip? what the heck was going on?

his teammates blinked at him, and some even choked on their water. "rin?" chigiri asked, eyes squinting. "what's... what's happening with your bag? and your hair?"

rin tugged at the clip awkwardly, looking a bit out of his depth. "uh, it's nothing." but you had told him he needed to wear it. "it covers your handsome face," you'd said. so of course he did. for you.

a couple of minutes later, everyone was gathered around in the locker room, and there you were – his girlfriend. if rin was the human embodiment of a cloud on a bad day, you were a sunshine explosion. bright, cheerful, always smiling, like you'd just woken up and realized it was your birthday every day. they stared at you, completely stunned.

“wait, this is your girlfriend?” reo asked, unable to hide the shock.

rin rolled his eyes. “yeah, yeah, stop staring.”

you just giggled. “he's always so serious, huh? but i love him! he's the best, nicest boyfriend ever!"

they all exchanged confused looks. "nice? nice?" bachira gasped. "which part? when? how??"

"oh, you know," you waved them off like it was no big deal. "he’s sweet, he buys me flowers. and he listens when i talk about my day. he’s a total softie."

his teammates froze, trying to process this. rin? a softie? the same rin who scowled at the vending machine for taking his last dollar?

“he’s nice when he wants to be,” you added, smiling at him.

rin was already blushing, awkwardly fiddling with his shirt as if it could swallow him whole. "okay, enough," he muttered, crossing his arms.

“come on, rin! you can’t fool them,” you teased, giving him a light nudge. “you always pick the perfect movie for our movie nights. remember the time you watched that cheesy rom-com just to make me laugh?"

rin groaned. "it was for you."

they all stared at him like he’d just announced he was secretly a superhero. a superhero.

“okay, okay,” isagi said slowly, “we get it. you’re, like, a secret softie. the world is full of surprises.”

rin sighed and adjusted his bow clip, silently questioning all his life choices. he swore if anyone took a picture, he was going to have a meltdown. but deep down, he couldn’t help the tiny smile tugging at his lips.

you had a way of making the world seem a little less grey.

#oh how i love this trope #grumpy x sunshine #rin #rin itoshi #itoshi rin #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin x reader #rin blue lock #rin itoshi blue lock #itoshi rin blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock x you #blue lock x female reader

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