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°•Miraculous partners°•

Pairing: Nightwing x Vigilante!reader

Sum: Nightwing is in love with his partner. You. But you're head over heels for your coworker, Dick Grayson. OR miraculous ladybug plot between you and dick.

Content: Fem!reader, no use of y/n, dick is lowkey slow, mild mentions of violence, some cuss words

Word count: 6k (I was having too much fun)

A/n: This is heavily inspired by miraculous ladybug teheheh. I'm not kidding, HEAVILY inspired. Enjoy!

Dividers by: @aanaws

Line dividers by: @hyuneskkami

"Nightwing! I said left!" Frustrated, you swing you're weapon against the masked man, who managed to dodge but got kicked square in the ribs right after.

"Sweets. I went left, then changed my mind." Nightwing lands beside you with all the charm he can muster in the smirk that creeps onto his face.

You knock out the last goon and sheath your weapons. "This is exactly why I stressed the fact that you losing your comms was gonna ruin our mission!" With a groan, you make your way over to the supply truck and break open the lock.

"Forgive me, m'lady." He bows as he locks his sticks behind his back.

#batfam #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #fic rec

scissorhvnds

𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘀

dick grayson x bruce's secretary!reader

summary: dick grayson can't seem to make you swoon, no matter how hard he tries, until he finally does!

tags: 18+ mdni, kissing, smallest argument with comfort, fluff, not proofread!

2843 words

based off this request -- thank you for sending it in! once again, I cannot write anything short. i'm working on it!!

read part two here!

You hated Dick Grayson.

He was disgustingly charming, holding a brightness in his eyes that paralleled the beauty of the galaxy. He knew how to wield that power. He was gorgeous, devastatingly so. His face was a perfect canvas of symmetrical visage.

You knew it, and he knew it.

You could see it in the way that other women in the office treated him – the fluttery lashes, the lip bites, the attempts at small, lingering touches – and how he smirked right back, giving them a false sense of hope. You refused to be a part of his roster, refused to be another person that was hypnotized by his charm. Your resistance didn’t deter his efforts, much to your dismay. Yet, despite your annoyance towards his presence, you knew he was anything but malicious. You knew he was harmless in his actions, simply just having fun.

Bruce Wayne was unpredictable in his office appearances. Oftentimes, you were left there alone to pick up the slack alongside Lucius Fox. You had no prior business experience that had prepared you for this role, so you were surprised when you were offered the position.

Today, in particular, was a harder day for you. Being Bruce’s assistant was challenging, despite all the perks that came with the job. December was the hardest month at the company – meetings, preparations for the new year, securing deals, galas – it was a constant weight on your shoulders that you weren’t able to leave at the office.

Neither Lucius, nor Bruce were in office today. Neither had been all week, leaving you to take on the brunt of the work in their absence. Dick, for the most part, was the one filling in for what you couldn’t do.

You hated how easy he made it seem. He came in, handled the meetings, handled whatever paperwork or phone call required of him, and did his work as if it was the easiest thing in your world.

You, on the other hand, were drowning. Your head was already under the water and you were losing air quickly. No matter how much you tried to claw to the surface, to break even on the amount of work you had to get done, several more tasks were added to your to-do list. Each task took you longer than you would like to admit, simply because you were afraid of ruining things. You had to teach yourself how to complete the tasks to the same standard of Bruce, Lucius, or Dick, as none of this was originally in your job description. Dealing with Dick wasn’t in your job description either.

“There’s my favourite girl! How are we doing today, beautiful?” Dick’s voice cut through the quiet space as he planted himself on your desk. He flashed a bright, charming smile down at you as he lounged comfortably on your desk. His arms crossed over his chest, the fabric of his shirt stretching against the bulging of his muscles. He could sense the tension radiating off your body, all he wanted was to see that pretty smile that you always tried to hide from him.

You were too engrossed in reading the file by one of Wayne’s Enterprise’s partners to acknowledge Dick. One monitor had the file pulled up, while you used the other to research terms and proper practices. Your brow was furrowed as you attempted to make sense of the words in the file.

His finger came up and gently twisted a strand of your hair around his finger, “nearing quitting time, sweetheart, you gonna let me take you out for dinner?” he rumbled smoothly, his head ducking in an attempt to enter your line of vision. His finger carefully untwisted your hair and gently smoothed the strand back against your head.

“Busy,” you mumbled back, letting out a puff of breath as you squinted at your notes, attempting to make sense of the numbers that were being listed in the file. His touch began to overwhelm you, invading your mind and derailing your train of thought.

“Come on,” he whined softly, his thumb coming up to your forehead in an attempt to smooth out the tense skin between your brows. “Gotta make sure you’re eating, yeah? I know a good spot over on-”

“Can you stop-” you snapped at him, slapping his hand away. Your eyes were fire, red with anger. He had never seen this side of you before, never seen you even raise your voice, despite how much he knew he toyed with you. “I’m busy. I don’t want to get dinner with you. I don’t want to do anything with you. Go ask one of your other playthings,”

He said there quietly for a moment, stunned by your sudden outburst. “Sweetheart, I-”

“I’m not your ‘sweetheart’, Dick. I have had a horrible week because I’ve been too busy trying to pick up your shit, and I have a lot to get done still. So, please, leave me alone. I’m sure you have 14 other girls on your list that you can take to dinner right now,” you seethed out again, cutting off his attempt at a response. The office went dead quiet, though you couldn’t bring yourself to be embarrassed. There was too much to get done, too much on your mind, you didn’t need his shallow flirting to make things worse. You didn’t need empty promises, you didn’t need to be a game for Dick to win.

He sat there quietly again, still stunned by your words. A glob of spit pooled in his mouth, practically choking him as he forgot how to work his motor functions for a moment. He made you mad. He was trying to make you smile, but he did the opposite?

“Right, yeah…” he murmured softly, standing up quietly from your desk. You turned back immediately to the file, immersing yourself back into the work at hand. He lingered behind you, his gaze roving over your form one last time. He didn’t want to leave you like this. He knew that you were under an immense amount of pressure this week. He had done everything he could to alleviate the workload on your shoulders. He did paperwork, responded to emails, took calls before you could get to them – yet your workload never ceased to decrease.

“You have a meeting in 20 minutes, Richard, I emailed you the notes,” you snapped out quietly, not turning to look at him. Your clipped tone paired with the formality halted him in his tracks. Richard? You hadn’t called him that since your first week as Bruce’s secretary.

He remained in a slight daze as he walked into Bruce’s office and planted himself in the chair. Was it something he said? He thought he was making progress in charming you, making you see that he was serious about his feelings for you, and he was planning to say it explicitly for you if you had agreed to dinner with him. But then again, you had said you had a hard week. It was a hard week. For everyone. The company. Gotham’s crime rate had skyrocketed and required all hands on deck. Everyone was being stretched thin.

Dick, however, was used to this chaos. He thrived in the bustle of stepping in for Bruce at the company when needed, and patrolling into the early hours of the night. His entire life was a masquerade, a show.

He knew you did not share that same lifestyle – obviously. He had watched you on numerous occasions, scaled the rooftops on your journey home to ensure you made it home safe. Patrol had conveniently situated him across from your apartment window, allowing him to keep an eye on the neighbourhood and over you at the same time. You were quiet, a steady calm in the tornado of his life. His heart, once impenetrable, was consumed by you.

God, he felt like an asshole now. He could make it up to you? right?

The sharp ring of the phone interrupted his thoughts. He leaned back in his seat, taking a breath, before a smile plastered on his face. “Michael Holt! Pleasure to hear from you-”

────୨ৎ────

You successfully avoided Dick for the rest of the work day. Whatever correspondence that was needed between the two of you was done over email. You managed to slip out of the building without being cornered by anyone. Your breath had been caught in your chest all day. There was no amount of air that was able to fill your lungs enough to give you the satisfaction of a proper breath. You felt like you were in a daze until you got home.

You dreaded stepping into the office building the next morning. You knew people were going to be whispering about your encounter with Dick. Perhaps about the lack of professionalism that you displayed. You didn’t care.

There were a few of your coworkers in the office, the early birds getting a head start on their workday. Each give you a small nod of greeting as you passed by. The room was quiet, the low energy of all the staff affecting the atmosphere on the floor.

You had expected to be met with a mountainous pile of paperwork on your desk, like everyday of the past week. To your surprise, there was a singular note.

Come into the office.

R.G.

Stepping into Bruce’s office was nerve-wracking. You didn’t want to face Dick. The way his face had fallen after your outburst caused a crack to split down your chest – seeping with guilt and tar.

The office was empty, cold with the lack of Dick’s presence. The only sign of life was a small basket placed on top of the coffee table that was situated in the lounge area of Bruce’s office. The brown, woven basket’s lid was closed, sealing off the contents from your view. Another note with Dick’s elegant scrawl was placed on top. The note began with your name, and you tried not to acknowledge his usual pet name for you missing from the note.

I know you’ve had a hard week. We would be lost here without you. I got you a little something as a token of my (our?) no, MY appreciation. Please accept it. And accept my apology for angering you, I thought I was doing the opposite. Don’t worry about your to-do list, I took care of it already. Take a half day today – think of it as an early weekend! Yay! Enjoy.

R.G.

You sat down on the chair, reading over the words quietly. Your fingers quietly lifted the lid of the basket. The crack in your chest deepened as you gazed at the contents of the basket.

At the very back was a fluffy blue pyjama set, soft and warm under the tips of your fingers. Stuffed beside it was a small box of calming tea, surrounded by some of your favourite snacks – how did he know?. There were facemasks, cozy socks, a candle, a card to some ridiculously expensive spa, and… a small, homemade coupon book?

He did all of this for you? All the hard work you had put into keeping him out of your heart had crumbled by this gesture. Your heart was singing at the effort put into this basket.

You opened the coupon and immediately rolled your eyes at the contents. Though, you had to fight to keep the smile of amusement from breaking onto your face. You hated how he made you feel, how the thoughts of him always seemed to infiltrate your mind.

Of course, Dick would make a homemade coupon book.

“Good for: one free kiss”

“Good for: one dinner date”

“Good for: one free slap”

“Good for: one free kiss!!”

“Good for: pass off your to-do list onto Dick”

"Good for: ONE FREE KISS!!!!!!”

You rolled your eyes again and moved to flip to the next coupon when the door swung open. Dick’s large frame stopped in the doorway. His eyes roved over you in momentary shock. Your heart lurched as you stood up quickly.

“You’re here early. You usually aren’t here until 9,” he breathed out, shutting the door quietly and stepping closer. He left distance so as to not startle you, afraid you would bolt out of the office once given the chance.

“Had a lot that needed to be done… um.. Thank you for taking care of it,” you responded back, your flickering between the basket and him. He smiled softly and stopped beside you. His delicate walk never failed to amaze you – the way he moved with grace, always sure of his body’s movements, and with perfect motor symmetry.

“Happy to, Swe-” he coughed, cutting himself off. His fingers fidgeted as if he didn’t know what to do with them – something you had never seen from him before.

“I was just leaving. Was hoping to be out of your way when you got here so that you could focus. Use the spa giftcard today,” his tone was gentle, a quiet murmur in the dimly lit office. The rain had cast a prominent gloom in the already present darkness of Gotham.

“Thank you for the basket,” you whispered in return, your eyes flickering up to meet him.

“Of course,” he murmured, the knuckle of his finger gently brushing the underside of your jaw. “You’re wearing the same outfit as yesterday?”

You looked down at your clothes, your hands smoothing over the top. Embarrassment flooded your cheeks in the form of heat. “Yeah…”

“I love this outfit on you,” he added softly, nudging your chin back up to face him. You pressed your lips together in response.

“Dick, I’m…”

“I know, don’t worry. It’s okay,” he whispered back, the tiniest hint of a smile breaking through his lips. “There’s… there are no other girls, by the way. You said yesterday that I have 14 girls. I see why you think I would, but I don't. I only want one.”

“Can I use one of these coupons right now?” you asked softly, your fingers sliding the cardstock material back and forth. He nodded slightly, leaning closer. His nose gently nudged against yours. The warmth of his hands slowly slid up the back of your waist, hooking into the fabric of your top.

The quiet rip of the paper echoed softly in the space between you as you gave him a soft smile.

“Close your eyes,” you whispered, slipping the coupon into his pocket. You waited until he shut his eyes before a small smile spread onto your lips. You took a moment to admire the beauty of his features. Strong features, angular jaw. The definition of perfect. Beautiful.

The crack of your hand meeting his cheek left him silently stunned. His eyes flew open in shock as he blinked down at you. “I deserved that… but what the fuck?”

Your laugh immediately filled the space, pulling the coupon out of his pocket to show which one you had chosen to cash in – “Good for: One free slap”.

A pout formed on his plump lips, his eyes filling with betrayal. “There were FOUR free kiss coupons for you to choose from!” he whined, pulling you in by the waist again. “FOUR!”

You continued to laugh, your hand coming up to gently soothe the skin of his cheek. You were both aware that the slap did not hurt him. His cheek had barely reddened in colour.

“One of them even has extra emphasis on the fact that it’s a free-”

You cut him off by pressing your lips softly to his. Your hands gently pulled him close by the black hairs on the nape of his neck, silencing his whining. His mouth was warm and sugary with the taste of sweetened coffee. He let out a soft breath of relief into your mouth, immediately relaxing into the kiss. His strong arms wrapped around you completely, pulling you into the hard planes of his body.

“Fuck, you’re so… fuck,” he mumbled into your mouth, his lips turning ravenous against yours as a sudden desperation filled the room. He pulled you closer, his lips devouring yours in a way that left you dizzy. You let out another soft giggle into his mouth, gently biting down on the pillowly skin of his bottom lip.

He ripped himself back, forcing his forehead against yours. His breathing was ragged, his lips wet with spit. He looked utterly destroyed, disheveled, with half-lidded eyes. His hands cupped over your cheeks, holding you close to his face.

“Again, please. Please let me kiss you again, I-” he breathed out softly, his nose nudging against yours again. Every fibre of his being was pleading, you could sense it in his breaths, in his grip on your voice, and the lower frequencies of his voice. “You’re so beautiful, taste so good, can I, please?”

“Yes, but first…” you smiled softly, leaning back fractionally. The sound of paper ripping filled his ears again before you held up another coupon in the space between the two of you.

“Good for: one dinner date”

an: I don't know if this is exactly what the request asked for??? but I had fun writing it anyways. THANK YOU FOR SENDING IT IN!!! I would make this into a universe if I have enough ideas, or if you do. thoughts are being thunk

#batfam #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #fic rec

gojoest

your husband (gojo satoru) is no stranger to jealousy.

when it comes to you, it’s not just other people he’s wary of — it extends to animals and even inanimate objects such as your favorite plushie you like to cuddle to sleep in his absence. and then, the newest addition to his list of ever growing rivals appears to be a certain otome game you’ve been obsessed with lately — love and deepspace — or more specifically, the dreamy 3D love interests you’ve been swooning over in it.

as much as he’s trying to be mature about it — reminding himself that it’s just a game, a harmless hobby if you will — it proves very hard to stay rational when you’ve spent the last fifteen minutes giving those virtual guys more attention than the very real, very touchable, objectively better looking and currently very ignored husband sitting right across from you at the kitchen table.

you’re deeply immersed in your morning ritual — sipping your coffee while casually knocking out your daily lads tasks before you go about your day. but the peaceful rhythm of your routine is abruptly interrupted by a very audible sigh coming across the table. you glance up from your phone only to meet your husband’s blue eyes staring at you with a look that’s a mix between disapproval and betrayal.

#jjk #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader

himbo-kuto

you and caleb haven't seen each other in so long you want to crawl into each other's skin

"so what time will you be here tomorrow pips?" you looked over to caleb's video on your phone as you finished the last sentence in your report.

due to the recent influx of wanderers, jenna has had you all over the place. barely being able to stay 3 days at your own apartment before you were off to the next one. thus, resulting in having not seen caleb in person in almost a month.

"my mission in chansia city should end around 7:00pm? but my flight won't get into linkon till about 11:00pm, then I'll have to travel to the station and finally to skyhaven…" you already felt the toll this was going to take on your body, but seeing caleb after so long was more than worth it.

"so you're saying i won't ever see you again?" a chuckle left your lips at his dramatics.

"as long as everything goes well, I should be showered and in bed with you at the latest, 1:00am." a long agonizing groan left caleb's lips as he fell over onto the couch. the camera went dark as he buried his face in his arms and kicked his feet in anger.

"i know, i miss you too caleb. but just think, after this mission i'll be with you for a whole week. you'll be sick of me by the end of it—"

"i can never be sick of you." he cut you off before you could even finish that thought. "you could be living with me full time and it would never be enough."

"famous last words, colonel."

"well there's only one way to find out, miss hunter." he had the little smug grin on his face as you stuck out your tongue to him.

"you know if i could i would, handsome." though most of your free time was spent at caleb's, your job at the association required you to be in linkon. times like these really sucked the life out of you, but seeing the way his eyes lit up when he would pick you up from the station made everything worthwhile.

"but don't wait up. i know the fleet has been working you to the bone lately. i'm sure this surge hasn't been easy on you either. i can make it to your place safely, as i always have been."

you could tell that caleb needed rest. he would always text you goodnight, and as of recent, some of those had been rolling in at about three or four am. the bags that were slowly forming under his eyes were also a dead giveaway. so you hoped that this week off would be able to recharge the both of you.

"no, no— i want to stay up and see you when you get in."

"caleb, i've watched you doze off while you eat dinner at the base." you watched as the embarrassment kissed the tips of his ears. you gave him a tired, but soft smile.

"i swear i'll be right there when you wake up. most likely trying to fuse my body with yours with how close i'll be to you." there was a moment of silence as you watch the cogs turn in caleb's brain.

"…only if you double pink promise." you laughed as you held up both your pinkies to the camera. it may seem childish, but to you and caleb, double pinky promises were the end all be all ever since you were kids. a yawn escaped your lips, as you reached your arms up for a big stretch.

"alright big guy, in less than 24 hours i'll be in your arms. i'll try my best to finish off these wanderers in the blink of an eye."

"stay safe out there, pips. i need you here in one piece." he brought the phone up to his lips as you brought it up to your forehead. "i love you, goodnight."

"you know i always try." you did the same, offering him three kisses before waving him off. "i love you too, goodnight."

#love and deepspace #lads #caleb x reader #caleb

applefishcake

colonel caleb and assistant!nonMC!reader, who he's desperately in love with

warnings. fluff, tending to wounds trope, boss x employee dynamic but caleb is whipped, caleb getting rejected, reader in denial and oblivious preview. “I’ve always been like this,” he sighs, and then you feel him drop his head onto your shoulder. It makes you jolt, your breath hitching as you register what he’s doing. “You just don’t care enough to notice.” wc. 3.5k

Although he’s infamous for being the most ruthless officer at his rank, Colonel Xia is actually a complete mess.

You can’t blame anyone for the rumors—he’s rather intimidating in nature. Tall stature. Narrow eyes. Broad shoulders and a uniform without a seam out of place. He rarely smiles. Voice unalarming at first, but far more unforgiving than most.

You’re like a fly on the wall, you suppose. You’ve been working as his assistant for years now, even before he’d been promoted to colonel. You have his coffee ready every morning, his meetings organized on your calendar, alarms on your phone for any big events he has. Your colleagues can’t fathom how you’re able to tolerate working for such a heartless man, but you don’t see it that way. Yes, you need to bite your tongue around him. Yes, you need to straighten your back just a tad bit more. Yes, and so much more.

But, you’ve learned that he’s just as human as you. And he thinks there’s nobody else in this world that gets him the way you do.

The first year you worked for him, you were constantly afraid of him. Well more so getting fired, than him. He’d order you to bring him coffee and you’d fear he’d fire you for getting his order wrong, he’d order you to print meeting notes and you’d fear he’d scream at you for failing to print them double-sided. Fortunately, he did neither of those things, but he would shoot you a glare or a jerk of a brow that would send you into a spiral. He didn’t seem to enjoy conversation, so you’d just scurry away, clutching your heart in your hands.

As time went on, you learned a lot about him. It’s inevitable when you’re essentially attached to his hip like a mute accessory, where it’s hard to do anything but focus on what he does.

He likes his coffee sweet. Two sugars and milk. Surprising, since he comes off as a black coffee connoisseur, but also kind of cute? The big scary colonel drinking a latte? He showers in the morning and at night. Cold in the morning, hot at night. He does his own laundry. You eventually figured out that he’s very particular with how he wants his laundry to smell and how he likes it folded—talk about being a control freak. He hates his bosses. Whenever he receives orders from them, it’s the only time you see him genuinely losing his cool–grumbling under his breath and angrily flipping through the paperwork on his desk. You try to avoid his office during these episodes.

Over the years, his routine becomes your own. His coffee is ready for him when he sits at his desk, his calendar organized perfectly, and even his laundry is folded the way he wants it to be. The last took some trial and error, but you’re proud of mastering the art.

Still, words between the two of you are scarce. You only tend to see him when he’s working (and so are you), and it’s made wordless communication between the two of you easier. When you stand in front of his desk, he takes it as a signal to clear it for you to place down a new stack of paperwork. When you knock on his door and remain under the doorframe, he sighs, realizing his bosses have called for him. When you place down a fresh cup of coffee at his desk, he takes it as a sign to have lunch.

It’s seamless coordination, to put it short.

There’s a particularly stressful week for him one month. You watch him slave away at his work, the bags beneath his eyes growing heavier and his hair becoming more disheveled. He hasn’t left the office in two days–you counted. He’s going to snap, you think. No matter how talented he is—and you know he is, given he’s become a colonel at his young age—he can’t overcome human biology.

“Shit!” you hear from his office. You peek inside to see that he’s spilled coffee on his lap. He pats aggressively at the stain, hissing under his breath when you place a new cup in front of him. His eyes flicker up to you.

“You have a meeting in an hour,” you say.

He frowns. “I’ll have to change.”

“And shower,” you scrunch up your nose. “And shave, preferably.”

He blinks, and then his lips purse in a weird shape. Wait. Surely not. You think you’re going crazy. Is he trying not to laugh? The colonel who's always glowering menacingly?

The lack of sleep must really be getting to him.

In the end, you somehow end up in the single-stall bathroom. You’re shaving the sides of his face as he fixes his freshly washed hair, staring at himself in the mirror. It’s to save time, you remind yourself as you wonder how many minutes he has left till his meeting. He crinkles his brows and then glances at you through the corner of his eyes. You pretend not to notice.

“Are you usually so comfortable in front of shirtless men?”

“No, but you’re not a man,” you snort. “You’re my boss.”

“I’m your male boss.”

Why are you so comfortable with him, you wonder? Well, you’ve known him for a few years—you know his everyday routine, his likes, his dislikes, his habits—that you might dare to even say you know him well. Not him, but your boss. You chew on the inside of your cheek, and then shrug.

His skin is soft against your fingertips, you think.

“Thanks,” he says. “For all you do. I don’t say it enough, but you’re one of the few people I trust in this place.”

“It’s my job, sir.”

He chuckles, and it catches you off guard. You can count on one hand how many times you’ve heard him laugh these past few years. And for some reason, you can’t look him in the eye, choosing to narrow in on the shaving cream you’re pushing off with his razor. He doesn’t say anything else either, and the two of you exist in the comfortable silence,

This is where it begins. The blurring between coworkers and friends, and maybe something more.

The two of you begin to exchange more conversation. When you drop off his coffee, he makes small talk. When you drop off his laundry, he praises you. When you bring him his paperwork, he complains to you about his bosses instead of shooing you away. You gradually spend more time in his office instead of your cubicle. At some point, he even treats you to dinner. Company dinner, but still.

You quickly realize the colonel is a mess. His usually composed and serious demeanor is a facade—or maybe he just has a switch? He talks a lot. He specifically likes vanilla lattes, you find. He despises seeing others with wrinkles in his uniform. And he calls home once a week to his sister and grandmother, in which you happen to eavesdrop once or twice and find that he can be a complete sap when he wants to be.

Of course, his mask is pulled back on the instant another person is in the room. Your coworkers ask how you managed to get so close to the terrifying Colonel Xia (though you don’t even know if you’re that close), but you have to bite your tongue before you spread to the world that the colonel is actually a family-obsessed crashout who likes vanilla lattes and cooking. Maybe you’ve gotten too close to him, you wonder, but too late to do anything about it now.

Especially when he hobbles into your cubicle one day, blood seeping from his arm despite his desperate clutch onto it. It’s late. Two in the morning at the earliest. You’re not sure why you decided to stay late today despite not having the work to warrant it. But when you noticed his office door remaining closed, lights shut off too early into the night, something felt off. So incredibly off.

You suppose you stayed for him. Just in case he needed something else.

“What happened to you?” you’re onto your feet in an instant, shoving your chair back as your hands hover over his wound. Half of his outer uniform is shredded off, leaving a trail of bloody marks and what you hope isn’t too deep of a cut. His face is pale, breathing shallow. Beads of sweat form at his temples as he looks straight at you, hunched over to your line of sight in pain. You don’t wait for his response and quickly shuffle him towards his office, letting him use you as a crutch.

You fumble around his room until you come across a first aid kit. It looks incredibly outdated, but it’ll do the job. “Take off your shirt.”

He does without complaint. It seems like you see him shirtless more often than an assistant ought to be.

As you tend to him, you begin to ask questions. And you’re not sure if it’s because of the exhaustion, but he answers them truthfully—though you suppose he’s rarely lied to you in the first place. It’d been an assassination attempt. Another one. The third one this year. You honestly don’t know how he bears to deal with the stress of his job, and you’re not sure why he does either, but you’re sure something is tying him down. Your fingers work diligently to tend to him, and you’re suddenly incredibly grateful to the first aid class you were required to take when you first took the job.

“You should transfer bases,” you mutter.

“Why would I do that?”

You raise your brows in disbelief, and he laughs—or at least, tries to. Another tally in your head. Now you need more than two hands to count the times he’s laughed in front of you. “I’m serious, sir.”

“And what would that achieve?”

“You won’t have as many knives at your back, for starters.”

“They could never kill me with those puny attacks.”

“But they can definitely hurt you...” you pause. “...sir.”

“I’m ranked highly for my age. I’m not leaving.”

“You’d climb back up in no time even if you started,” you snap, and he looks away. “Am I wrong?”

Nope.

It goes quiet for a moment. His shoulders fall, and he rocks his head backward, staring at the ceiling. “I won’t have anyone to trust.”

I don’t say it enough, but you’re one of the few people I trust in this place.

Your throat feels dry. Your stomach sinks for some reason—-or is your heart just hammering? You realize that he’s staring at you now, inches away from you as you hold his arm with bandages. The AC whirrs softly, but the only other thing you can hear is his breathing and your own.

“You’ll get another assistant.”

“Nobody else is as good as you,” he responds immediately.

Your eyes narrow, and you turn away, dropping his arm. “You must’ve not had many assistants.”

“I don’t need to.”

He sounds too serious. Too genuine. The air feels suffocating. You rise from the armchair and pace towards his desk with the first aid kit in hand, chewing on the insides of your cheek. Whatever he means—whatever he’s implying—it’s dangerous. He’s your boss. Your boss, who kills for a living on missions that could kill him. Your boss, who spends his nights passed out at his desk. Your boss, who most of your coworkers call an asshole.

His hands perch on either side of you onto his desk. He’s close. Close enough for you to feel his breath on the shell of your ear, and it sends shivers down your spine. Your fists clench as you will yourself to calm down, but to no avail. What the hell is even happening?

You whip your head to him. “Sir, I–”

“Caleb.”

“What?”

“Call me Caleb when we’re alone,” he mumbles. “Please.”

Your eyes go wide. “That’s not appropriate.”

“I don’t want to be appropriate.”

You nearly choke. He’s delirious. Perhaps from blood loss, surely. “You’re—you’re not acting yourself.”

“I’ve always been like this,” he sighs, and then you feel him drop his head onto your shoulder. It makes you jolt, your breath hitching as you register what he’s doing. “You just don’t care enough to notice.”

“What are you—”

“How much more obvious do I have to make myself?” he whispers against your neck. “Do you like humiliating me?”

Either pigs are flying or hell must’ve froze over. You open your mouth to respond, unsure of what you’ll say until you feel him slump over your shoulder. You blink. Did he just?

You nudge his limp body.

He did. He did just pass out. You might kill him before anyone else does.

Colonel Xia, as you’ve known for some time now, is a mess.

But only to you.

He doesn’t make you nervous anymore. If anything, he’s annoying. Alarmingly so. You’ve become a kind of emotional support pet and assistant rolled into one, to the point that he deems it acceptable to message (spam) you at twelve in the morning. You roll your eyes when you see your screen light up in the darkness of your room, knowing there’s only one person who’d message you at this time.

[vanilla boss (DNI)]: where are the files i asked you for this morning? I can’t find them

[vanilla boss (DNI)]: hello?

[vanilla boss (DNI)]: hellooooooo

[vanilla boss (DNI)]: also do you have time tmr night :) we should go out

[vanilla boss (DNI)]: please (unsent)

[vanilla boss (DNI)]: oh the files

[vanilla boss (DNI)]: xie is on my ass about it

[vanilla boss (DNI)]: fucking asshole, im gonna kill him :3

[vanilla boss (DNI)]: hello??? Where is my pretty assistant that nobody can replace

[vanilla boss (DNI)]: that wasn’t sarcasm btw

When you tap away your answer, pressing send and tossing your phone across your bed, the response is immediate.

[vanilla boss (DNI)]: thanks hot stuff ><

[vanilla boss (DNI)]: the office misses you already

The office that only he occupies at this hour?

You’re not paid enough for this. You ignore the subtle burning in your cheeks.

His feelings for you become an unspoken truth between the two of you for the next few months. Oddly enough, he doesn’t seem embarrassed about it at all. Despite most of his attempts to egg you on being rejected, he doesn’t let most of it faze him. You remind him that he’d look bad to others if he started dating his assistant, but the thought doesn’t seem to even cross his mind, even if you tack on a dozen other reasons why the two of you shouldn’t mingle in anything romantic. He’s never really convinced, much to your dismay.

Which is unfortunate, especially when you realize how much this is affecting you.

When his eyes seem to always drift in your direction, even when he’s in a meeting, you can’t help but feel your heart race. When his name pops up onto your phone, you can’t help but check what he said immediately. You stay later into the night to bring him an extra cup of coffee.

But this is what any assistant would do, right?

“What’s that?” you ask a coworker as she paces towards the colonel’s office with a stack of papers. You eye it suspiciously, especially considering the giddy look she has on her face.

“The colonel asked for these. He asked me, specifically,” she smiles, cheeks pink. “Y’know, up close, he isn’t so scary. He’s kind of nice, and also really cute…have you noticed that?”

Of fucking course you’ve noticed it. You’ve worked with the man for the past few years! Even when everyone else said he was terrifying. Even when everyone else avoided him! Before you know it, your fists are balled at your sides, and you don’t even know why. All you know is that you want to yell at him right now. What’s the point of having an assistant if you’re just going to use other girls? Is he taunting you? Does he have no use for you anymore? Is your work not good enough—even after you responded to him in the middle of the night to his stupid questions with his stupid cute emojis? Your annoyance burns, and you suddenly find yourself marching to his door after having snatched the stack of papers from the woman. She remains oblivious and completely confused as you leave her behind.

You don’t bother knocking as you slam the door open.

He looks up from his desk, eyes widening. Upon realizing it’s you, his lips etch into a lopsided grin. “Oh, hey, what—”

You stroll straight to him, dumping the entire stack just inches from his face. It lands onto the desk with a loud slam, and it surprises him as he jerks back. His gaze flickers back up to you, and he blinks. “Why are you bringing me this?”

“It’s what you requested, sir,” you snap, and his smile is gone. “From someone else, for some strange reason. But as your assistant, I felt it was appropriate for me to bring it, no?”

What the hell were you even saying? The words were tumbling out, fired by anger but uncontrollable. You were definitely going to die of embarrassment later on, but you don’t care in the moment. For someone who claims to like you so much, why is he asking other girls to get his things? What are you, some backup plan? As if you don’t bring him his coffee every day? His paperwork? His laundry—

He blinks. “It was a lot to carry, and I didn’t want to make you—”

“Yes, and let’s ask some bumbling woman who doesn’t even know how to make these double-sided. That’ll get the job done instead of asking the woman who’s been doing this for years,” you hiss. The more you speak, the more unreasonable it sounds. You know it’s ridiculous, but…

Gears turn in his head. And when it clicks, his eyes soften. His adam’s apple bobs as he slowly stands from his desk, seemingly beginning to understand your frustration. He’s always been quick to noticing how you feel, even before you could fully process it—and you don’t know if you hate or love it.

“Are you jealous?”

You balk, appalled at the thought. “No! Of course not!”

“Then, why are you angry?”

“Because—” you sputter for an answer. “--I have a job, and—I want to do my job!”

He tilts his head. “Is that really it?”

“Yes!”

“You’re angry, because I didn’t let you bring me paperwork,” he confirms. "And I asked someone else to do it."

“Yes!”

His lips break out into a grin. “Sounds like jealousy to me.”

Your jaw slacks. Head spinning, you can’t ignore how your heart is going at an unreasonable speed, face heating in embarrassment as you entertain the thought. You can’t help but avoid his gaze, brows furrowing in an attempt appear more intimidating, but it does little for this purpose. So instead, you glare knives at him. His brown tousled hair. His purple eyes. His pink lips. The straight edge of his nose. His lashes that put most peoples' to shame. His grin. His laugh. That stupid fucking laugh that you count in tallies in your head, almost as if you’re always waiting for the next one. Looking forward to them. Yearning for them. His stupidly cute coffee order and his stupidly cute texts and his stupidly good-looking uniform and his stupid—

Fuck.

God, you want to kiss him.

“Hey,” he waves a hand in front of you, brow raising. “Sorry, I’ll stop teasing. I won’t do it next time so–”

Before he can finish his sentence, you yank him by the collar of his shirt and smash his lips against yours. The kiss is a mess. When he recognizes what’s happening after the immediate shock, he’s kissing back desperately, hands flying to either sides of your face to pull you closer. It’s awkward, given that you’re kissing over the desk, but neither of you could care any less. There’s a few grunts that escape your lips until you gently punch at his chest, pointing at your nose when his eyes flutter open. He pulls away to let you breathe, and he has the widest smile plastered on his mouth. You don’t know if you want to slap it off or kiss him again.

“Want to go again? On my lap this time.”

“Shut up, Caleb.”

You climb on top of him anyway.

He’s a mess, most definitely, but so are you.

#love and deepspace #lads #caleb x reader #caleb

mooncyb3r

love in aisle three.

synopsis. midnight shifts at the neighborhood corner store are supposed to be boring—fluorescent lights, mop water, the hum of the fridges. but then he starts showing up. first for strawberry milk, then for excuses, then for you. and slowly, you realize he isn’t leaving. not the store. not your orbit. maybe not your heart, either.

tags modern au, fem!reader, convenience store worker!reader, (reader is a bit grumpy at first but it’s because of work), kinda slow burn into romance, stray cat cameo, emotional intimacy, playful teasing, subtle confessions, lots of staring, first kiss sweetness (he’s even sweeter). wc — 6.5k.

satoru always comes in five minutes before close.

you hear the bell click and your shoulders tense without asking you first. mop water sloshes over your knuckles. he walks in with his laces untied and his shades shoved into his hair, a slow mouth on his face that says he’s already decided you won’t throw him out.

“didn’t think you’d still be here.” his voice is warm at the edges and low at the center, lazy on purpose. he doesn’t raise the volume for the room; he sets it for you at the counter. his jaw barely moves when he talks, teeth clenched on the last word, eyes on your hands.

“we close at midnight.” your tone is flat on purpose. you keep your gaze on the register screen. you feel him watch your throat move when you swallow.

#jjk #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader

nezuscribe

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐦

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: two years had passed since you first met gojo satoru, and it was two years of having an agonizingly one-sided crush on the white-haired genius. for the most part, you were okay with keeping it down and acting like the nights you spent fantasizing about what it would be like to be his were normal. you were fine keeping it hidden until something between the two of you shifts, and you're left wondering if this crush you have on him is truly as delirious as you think.

genre: 18+, nerdjo, slow burn, angst + happy ending (duh), fluff, eventual smut (nerdjo being a munch), some mention of insecurities but nothing major

word count: 33k (oops)

note: nerdjo bu set in oxford! art credit! @to00fu

jjk masterlist

It began at one of the English department get-togethers.

Two years ago, when you felt like you had to come to every single event in the hopes of striking expeditious luck at one of them. And it’s not that you particularly disliked these events, but they weren’t the first thing you’d think of when it came to how you’d prefer to spend your free time.

The weather was just getting chilly enough where you’d rather stay in your dorm and wrap yourself in three blankets and a sweater, and the year had been dragging on long enough where you’d rather just talk about the wonders of Shakespeare and his sonnets in the confines of your next research paper and not with academics who made you feel inferior.

You had been invited weeks in advance, and yet you still found yourself dreading being here, the more it led to it, and even more when you were in the thick of it. Awkward small-talk with students you’ve seen around briefly and stiff handshakes with male professors who think that they have better places to be were just mentally taxing, and you counted the seconds until it was all over.

Thankfully, it was busy enough that you could slip into the background without many people even noticing you were there, but not so crowded that you could just slip away entirely without somebody asking where the great Dr. Howard’s research assistant had gone. And anyways, it wasn’t too horrible. You had taken to silently recounting Othello in your mind moments before everything changed.

There was a small tap on your shoulder. It startled you at first, and you looked around in your small corner to see a man waiting patiently behind you, a sheepish look on his face as you tried to gather yourself up.

“I’m sorry,” he stammered, and you blinked out of your stupor as you tried to recall in your brain if you had met him before to save yourself from the embarrassment of him having to re-introduce himself, “I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

#jjk #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru

tonycries

Something Stupid - G.S.

Synopsis. Five times the strongest would rather díe than tell you he loves you, and the one time he almost does. Almost.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, friends-to-lóvers, canon fix-it, PINING, dry-húmping, face-sítting (fem receiving), creampíe, overstím, PÚSSYDRUNK GOJO, ríding him until he whínes, no smút until they’re adults obvs, slight ángst, manga spoilers, found family, THE HAPPY ENDING WE DESERVE, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 9.6k

A/N. Tumby lemme post this pwease? What canon? This is the only canon I know.

“Catch me if you-”

Sixteen-year-old Gojo Satoru doesn’t have the privilege of finishing his sentence - hell, he doesn’t even have the privilege of standing, apparently.

Because in the blink of an eye, his back is hitting the soft grass of Jujutsu Tech, followed very shortly by a bewildered you. Foreheads knocking together, your hands grabbing at his broad shoulders, his own wrapping around your waist for some sense of stability.

Years later, Gojo tells everyone that would listen - and anyone that won’t - that life became just a bit brighter ever since you crashed into his life that day - literally.

But right now, he’s opening his mouth to spit an irritated, “Watch it!”

It’s the first words you ever say to him, a shrill - almost hysterical - “Huh? No, you watch it-”

“Nuh uh, you-” Head spinning, shades skewed, it takes Gojo a few seconds to screw his bleary eyes open to the sudden newcomer straddled on top of him. And a few more to register that no, he wasn’t in heaven and hey, that uniform looks familiar. And, unfortunately, not even a split-second longer to breathe out something stupid, “I…I think I love y-”

#jjk #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader

skyizhou

8,938 words * ˛ ✦ ･ It was her laugh that did it. Not at him—never at him. She was laughing with a groom in the stables, something about a lame horse, and the sound was so pure it had stopped him mid-stride. He'd stood in the shadows and felt his entire world tilt on its axis. That night, he'd tried to speak to her at dinner. What came out was, "you seem fond of the stables, perhaps you should sleep there." He'd meant it as a jest. She'd taken it as condemnation and stopped eating at the main table shortly after.

WARNINGS: third person pov (fem!reader), alternate universe – gothic, DILF!CALEB — AGE GAP, established relationship — married, mutual pining, miscommunication, mild angst, DUKE!CALEB, making out, nipple play, worship, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, cum-marking, exhibitionism, overstimulation, implications of future anal, spitting.

The fire cracks in the grate, casting monstrous shadows across the mahogany walls, and he tells himself he prefers the solitude. Any other man in his position—Duke of Skyhaven, commander of the most feared private guard in Philos—would revel in having an estate this size to himself.

But he is not any other man, and the silence only amplifies the sound of his own useless worrying, which always circles back to his wife.

She occupies the east wing. He occupies the west. Between them lies a marble corridor that might as well be an ocean. Caleb hasn't seen her take breakfast in the main dining hall for seventeen days. He knows this because Mrs. Josephine, the head housekeeper, mentioned it in passing, and Caleb catalogued the information with the same precision he once used to track enemy artillery positions.

The staff whispers that Her Grace prefers trays in her sitting room. They say she is quiet, polite, unfailingly kind. They say she asks after his health.

Caleb knows they lie to spare his feelings.

#love and deepspace #lads #caleb x reader #caleb

bananabreads

Shared bliss 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

Something that Sylus and your daughter both loved to do was sleep on their stomachs (⁠ ⁠˶⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ꁞ⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠˶⁠ ⁠)

— next week: 1k followers special >o<!!

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

After a long mission, your body was heavy with exhaustion, but your heart was simply relieved to be home. The house was quiet, lights dimmed, and you already knew your husband and daughter had long since fallen asleep. After a warm, soothing bath and a change into your sleeping clothes, you padded softly down the hall and pushed open the bedroom door.

There they were.

Sylus and your little girl, sprawled across the bed, both lying on their stomachs in nearly identical positions. The sight tugged at your chest, melting every last ounce of fatigue in you. You and Sylus had been gently encouraging your daughter to get used to her “big girl” room, but clearly, your husband hadn’t been able to resist her nightly pleadings. He always gave in, always made space for her beside him.

With a quiet smile, you slipped into bed beside them. The mattress dipped, and your daughter stirred, blinking sleepily as she pushed herself up just enough to climb onto your chest.

“Mommy…” she mumbled, voice thick with drowsiness.

“I’m here, baby,” you whispered, brushing back her messy little curls.

A tiny sigh left her lips as she snuggled into you. “Missed you…”

Your heart clenched at the softness of her words. You kissed the top of her head, holding her gently.

“I missed you too. Go back to sleep, sweetheart.”

A heartbeat later, Sylus shifted too, his arm sliding around your waist, drawing both you and your daughter into his hold.

You chuckled quietly, your daughter’s tiny snores already filling the space between you. You leaned closer, pressing a kiss to Sylus’s temple. “Go back to sleep, Sy. I’ve got you both now.”

“Mhm… don’t go anywhere,” he muttered, tightening his hold even in his sleep.

And just like that, the three of you sank into the warmth of the night—your little family safe, tangled together, and finally home.

#love and deepspace #lads #sylus x reader #sylus

touchdowntides

╰┈➤SHIPWRECKED!

SYNOPSIS: The school ships you with Caleb, but you both were already sailing

PAIRING: teacher!Caleb x teacher!reader

TAGS: fluff, bantering, fun teachers rivalry,

NOTES: 1.3k words. wowie im not so satisfied with this but please enjoy this short caleb fic before i brainstorm a better fic for apple hubby.

Caleb stole your markers again.

You know this because the red one now smells like his overpriced cologne and the green one is missing entirely, probably buried under a pile of gym mats or wedged into a trebuchet he built for Year 11 physics. He’s across the hall, explaining projectile motion with your blue marker like he’s narrating a sports documentary.

You consider filing a formal complaint. Or a restraining order. Or a hit.

A student passing by glances between you and Caleb, then mutters to their friend, “They’re either about to kiss or kill each other.”

Caleb catches your eye and winks. You mouth ‘I will end you.’

He smiles like you just proposed.

Later, you find your green marker taped to a dumbbell in the PE office with a note:

‘Found it during warm-ups. It misses you. — C.X.’

#loveanddeepspace #lads #caleb x reader #caleb

neigepomme

˙ ✩°˖ ✈️ gravitational meet-cute / caleb x reader

synopsis; when you take your 2nd graders to skyhaven university for an activity aiming to teach them about space and gravity, you don't expect the faceless professor xia on the website to be a cute guy around your age, instead of an old man. as it turns out gravity isn't the only force that's irresistible around here, his charm is, too.

🍎 pomme's notes — caleb flirts with you in front of your class for nearly two thousand words basically :9

✴︎ 1.8k words / fluff / 2nd person & fem! reader — additional notes: reader is a 2nd grade teacher & has no evol, i gave the kids random names, caleb is a prodigy in the aerospace engineering field, reader & caleb are in their early thirties!

the kids in the school bus are buzzing excitedly when skyhaven university's towering buildings come into sight, and you can only helplessly ask them to remain tightly in their seat until the bus reaches its destination.

to be fair though, you can't exactly blame them. they're getting to go to the "big kids school", and they're gonna learn about space — something far too big for their little selves to understand yet. how cool is that!?

"noah, olivia and kai! sit down right now, or else all three of you are gonna stick by me the whole time we're there! everyone, this applies to you as well!"

with a resounding "yes miss!" the kids finally settle down and give you some time to gather your thoughts prior to getting off the bus. this was a big day for your kids, even though you were out of it.

just the week before, you were drinking yourself silly and lamenting your bachelorette life, and your best friend, tara (who just so happened to be the school secretary), had the incredible idea of signing your class up for an activity at skyhaven university to distract you.

"come on, it'll be fun! you love seeing the kids discover new things and get this — you won't even be the one teaching! just think of it as a break. besides, who knows, maybe professor xia is a hottie!"

"tara, the average age for aerospace engineers is like.. 70. professor xia's probably just a decrepit old man — his picture isn't even on the website! i bet you he's too old to even figure out how to upload it."

"you won't know unless you go, though! it doesn't matter anyways, your class is signed up already, so just have fun with it!"

so here you were, "having fun with it", otherwise known as watching over 30 overly excited children. thankfully, the driver pulls into the university's designated lot — though not without some squeals and giggles from the class. after disembarking and doing a headcount, you clear your throat in order to grab their attention.

"one, two, three! eyes on me!"

and in unison, all 30 students responded, "one, two! eyes on you!"

it was a cute call and response you'd learned from one of your mentors some years ago, and it got them attentive and ready to listen to your directions quickly — only this time, another sound cut through the silence, a whistle followed by a chuckle.

"woah! i'll have to use that on my own students, that sure was effective."

when you turn to face the voice, you're met with a handsome smile from an even more handsome man. a TA, maybe? before you can ask him who he is, the brunette seems to sense your confusion and beats you to the punch, introducing himself to you and your class with a dynamic expression.

"all right, kiddos, it's nice to meet all of you! i'm professor xia, but that makes me sound old, doesn't it? you can call me mr. caleb!"

there's no way tara was right. what happened to the decrepit old man you were envisioning? surely, there was a mistake. one of the little girls in your class quickly pulled you out of your thoughts, raising her hand and asking this.. too young of a professor a question.

"how come you teach at the big kids school? you're not even an old man! you're like miss teacher!"

right. 2nd graders' questions. you pinch the bridge of your nose, ready to apologize, but instead it seems like caleb finds it very humorous, throwing his head back and laughing before squatting down to your kids' eye level and explaining himself.

"yeah? i'm super smart, so i skipped a few grades and started teaching here after i retired as a pilot! how cool is that?"

a choir of ooh's and aah's emerged from the children, and caleb got up before pulling out his faculty card and handing it to you with a subtle wink.

"just so you know i'm the right guy."

judging from his ID, it looks like he wasn't lying — caleb xia, one of the professors in the aerospace engineering department of skyhaven university. you flash him a smile before introducing yourself. after caleb gives both you and your class a quick rundown of today's activity, you get the kids to line up in two rows and follow caleb like ducklings into an empty auditorium. trailing behind to make sure none of them got lost in the halls, you pull out your phone and send a quick "fuck he's hot i owe you a drink girl" text to tara.

the kids were in awe at how cool mr. caleb was, and you were in awe at how calm they were. you're a good teacher, and your kids love you, but that took a bit of work, due to how rowdy they were. caleb on the other hand? it came to him too naturally — to the point where you felt a pang of silly jealousy. you'd have to copy some of his mannerisms with the class.

however, admiring his prowess with the kids, quickly turned into something more. your eyes landed on his face, and his cute freckles and bright smile while he interacted with the children made your heart swoon. his purple eyes were so expressive, and you could almost get lost in them — and if you did? you'd rather not be found. lowering your gaze a bit, you end up admiring his well-built physique, until you could feel a tiny index finger poking your arm.

looking to your right, one of the three troublemakers on the bus, olivia, was grinning at you, with a mischievous expression on her face.

"miss.. do you think mr. caleb is handsome?" she whispered.

you almost choke on your spit, and you can't help the faint warmth on your face when you tell her to focus on what the brunette at the front is saying.

"pleaaaase, i promise i'll listen after this!!" she begs with a lip jutted out, and you can't resist those puppy eyes. damn 2nd graders.

"you — fine! i think he's handsome, now go back to listening!"

olivia beams and quickly turns to the front, but not before whispering about her newfound discovery to her two partners in crime, noah and kai. somehow, this didn't look too good for you right now.

sighing, you focus your own attention to caleb — only to be met with his eyes looking at you already. there's no way he heard, unless he has the greatest ears mankind has ever seen. right?

"miss teacher! would you mind help me demonstrating how gravity works for the kids?"

his tone is playful, and his expression inviting, so you find yourself getting up from your seat to join him on the small stage. presenting both of his hands to you, he winks again, and you can feel butterflies in your stomach. somehow you can't figure out if it's out of anticipation for the demonstration or if it's because caleb looks so cute right now.

"if you could hold both of my hands tightly, please. it's for science, no ulterior motives," and more quietly, only for you to hear, he adds, "or maybe just a tiny bit of ulterior motives."

ignoring the kids' gasps and squeals at their teacher holding hands with the good-looking professor, caleb begins to explain gravity in simple terms.

"you guys are anchored to the ground because of this thing called gravity. it's a super strong and invisible force that pulls things towards each other, and right now, the earth is pulling you towards its center!"

suddenly you feel your feet lift off the ground, and with a gasp, your grasp on caleb's hands tighten. you look into his eyes, and you're met with a smile.

"i have a super cool power though — a gravity evol. right now, i'm making it so that miss teacher is no longer affected by the earth's gravity. how cool is that!?"

you can only laugh at the 2nd graders' amazed reactions, varying from "my turn", "that's so cool", "i want a superpower too" and "miss teacher is blushing". he slowly lowers you back down, but once your feet touch the floor again, you stagger a bit, and he moves a hand to your waist to stabilize you with a soft chuckle and a "zero gravity does that to you sometimes." caleb walks you to your seat before turning to face the kids' expectant faces and speaking.

"if you all come to the front — without running! — and link your arms together, i'll make you all float for a bit too! go, go, go, captain caleb's airline is about to take flight!"

with excited yells, all the students hold onto each other tightly — and when caleb makes use of his evol to make them float around for a few minutes, their laughter is filling your ears, making you laugh along. when he lowers them back onto the ground, it's almost time to return to school, and so ensues the QnA section of the activity. after caleb answers a few questions related to space and gravity, kai looks at olivia and noah before raising his hand.

"mr. caleb! do you think miss teacher is pretty?"

noah doubles down, and with a cute yet failed attempt at whispering, he lets caleb know that "it's a secret, but miss teacher thinks you're handsome!"

so that was what olivia was up to. that's why she was whispering and exchanging knowing smiles with them. you're about to intervene and save the brunette from this awkward situation before he hums and places a hand underneath his chin, as if pondering the situation.

much to your surprise though, he squats down to the kids' level, before gesturing at all of them to come close, like he's about to reveal a secret too. with a voice loud enough for you specifically to hear, he gives the kids a wink.

"this is a secret between all of us, okay? i think she's the prettiest woman i've ever seen. and this is top top top secret, but i'm gonna ask her out on a date after this. don't tell her!"

he looks over his shoulder, meeting your gaze with a smile and you can see the tips of his ears turning a soft crimson hue. he laughs at your flustered expression and red cheeks — all while your 2nd graders squealed and shook with excitement.

and now, here you were — riding the bus again with all all 30 of your rowdy kids, but instead of solely smiling at the songs they sang on the way back to school, you were also smiling at caleb's new messages on your screen.

— hey sweets. are you gravity? — because i feel a force pulling me towards you :P — is saturday good for you? i'll pick you up at 7!

you really owed tara a drink after this. and you owed your class a pizza party.

🍎 pomme's final notes — i gave myself baby fever with this fic oh how i love the concept of caleb interacting with kids.. also this is just. caleb flirting and being playful. live laugh love loverboys. also if any 2nd graders feel poorly represented get off my damn blog

hey.. tagging those who were interested in this bad boy... love u guys….. — @abyssyby @codedove @30jades @shewrites247 @cantaloupewatch @vesearlee @iloveh4nge @philosians

#love and deepspace #lads #caleb x reader #caleb

$lostfracturess blog's avatar$

lostfracturess

THE STRANGER ON LINE 4 — SATORU GOJO

pairing — ceo!satoru gojo x artist!reader

summary — for 713 days, you've been sketching strangers on your morning commute, giving away portraits to brighten their day. when a missed train puts you on an unfamiliar route, you draw a white-haired man who's impossible to ignore. you think you'll never see him again—until he plasters half of tokyo with posters trying to find you.

word count — 16.4 k

genre/tags — modern AU, ceo x artist, strangers to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn, soft romance, fluff, so much fluff, banter, provider!satoru gojo bc goddamn yes & him being a very dramatic puppy in love, misunderstandings

warnings — 16+ ONLY. contains suggestive sexual content, brief mention of financial stress and reference to past cheating experience.

author's note — put on your favorite taylor swift playlist and get cozy for the fluff. i squeeeezed every tiny bit of fluff that i have out of my heart into this. side note, the idea came to me after seeing a tiktok of someone handing out sketches on a train hehe. hope it makes you smile <3

masterlist + support my writing + artwork by @3-aem

Your alarm goes off at exactly 5:45 AM, the same time it has for the past three years. You silence it with a tap (or try, anyway) and slip out from under your warm blankets before the urge to just stay there and call in sick becomes too stong to withstand it.

Your small one-bedroom apartment is quiet, save for the distant early morning traffic of the city outside your window and your groaning as you make your way to the bathroom.

Your morning routine was more muscle memory than anything other at this hour. Shower (seven minutes), hair (five minutes, more or less), makeup (eight minutes), and outfit—already sorted from last night (smart you)—coffee and an avocado toast.

By 6:30, you’re checking your bag if you’ve got everything: laptop, planner, phone charger, and most importantly, your sketchbook—a simple Moleskine with cream-colored pages that are perfect for graphite—and a few spare pencils.

You flipped open to a new page in your sketchbook and wrote “Day 713.” Tomorrow’s entry would be 714.

#jjk #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru

sugarladytum

She made sure everyone heard that

This is canon btw she’s just as possessive as him 😭

#love and deepspace #lads #caleb

pinecavity

Thinking about how Caleb sleeps facing the door. Always.

It doesn’t matter where you guys are, his place, your apartment, he subconsciously positions himself between you and the exit like a human shield. You used to complain about it when you were kids, not really understanding why you always had to wake up to the view of his broad back. You’d even shove at him when you were groggy and annoyed. Move over, Caleb. You take up too much space. And he would just grumble, shifting only enough to let you push your cold feet against his calves before settling again, always between you and the door.

And sometimes, in the middle of the night, when you wake up to the soft sound of his breathing, you wonder if he ever truly sleeps. His body is still, but there’s a tension in the way he lies, like even in unconsciousness, he’s braced for something. For a threat that’s not there. Like the moment he lets go, something will come to take you from him. Like safety is only real if he’s awake to guard it.

Now, you don’t complain. You don’t tell him to move. Because you know that he’s not just sleeping that way because he wants to. He’s sleeping that way because he has to. Because something deep in his bones won’t let him rest unless he knows, knows, that if anything were to happen, if someone were to come for you, he’d be the first thing they’d have to go through.

So now instead, you press your forehead to the line of his back. Wrap your arms tight around his backside to help ease his mind, even just a little. That you’re here. That you’re safe.

And for a moment, he wouldn’t move. Wouldn’t react.

Then, ever so slightly, his shoulders would relax.

It’s barely noticeable, most people wouldn’t catch it, but you do. You always do. The way his breath leaves him in a slow, measured exhale. The way his fingers, curled into the sheets, unclench just a little.

You tighten your arms around him, pressing closer, letting your warmth soak into his skin. It’s not much. It won’t undo years of instinct, of trauma buried so deep it’s woven into the way he sleeps. But it’s something.

And when his hand— scarred, steady, yours—finds yours beneath the covers, linking your fingers together in the quiet, you think: maybe it’s enough.

// This was a lot longer than expected… I originally planned to write just a quick little hc but alas, can’t help but get carried away when it comes to him. He’s just so… guard dog?? Also, thank you all so much for your love! I just started this account yesterday because I wanted to post my writing somewhere and I was surprised so many of you like it! Was honestly expecting only five notes kekekeke. I’m kind of new to using tumblr as someone who posts so let me know if you want to be mutuals on here!!

#love and deepspace #caleb x reader #caleb #lads

reilemon

Powdered Gold

⚠ MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY) ⚠

♡︎ synopsis: When you invited Caleb to stay at your place in hopes of rekindling your friendship, you didn’t realize you’d be inviting the feelings you shunned years ago. You both changed, but what you feel for each other hasn’t—and maybe, this time, you’ll be brave enough to reach for it.

♡︎ pairing: Caleb x fem!reader

♡︎ tags: fluff, angst, smut, Caleb calls you pipsqueak (and always will in my fics), Caleb is a virgin, but reader isn't, oral (both of them giving and receiving), creampie as always

♡︎ word count: 10.3k

♡︎ a/n: this is my first time writing Caleb, so pls be nice to me ok??

♡︎ this is not beta read but i'm still giving a shout-out to my bestie ♡︎@its-de♡︎

divider by @/anitalenia

#love and deepspace #caleb x reader #lads #caleb

aeluteria

Pillows and glass walls

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆ summary: you develop a habit surrounding yourself with pillows when you sleep — as if trying to replicate certain someone's presence. ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆ pairing: MC!reader x Caleb ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆ word count: 1,666 ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆ general info: hurt/comfort, fluff, not established relationship, longing Caleb if you look really close act surprised here ────── ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆ notes: proofread four times and all but it's possible there's still some mistakes since English isn't my first language. Enjoy!

After Caleb’s death, you’re haunted by nightmares, and you get used to sleeping surrounded by pillows. There’s something comforting about the way they press against your body from all sides, almost wrapping you in their softness. The pretty spacious bed narrows down to about half a meter all thanks to at least four pillows around you. One under your head, one in front of you, one under your arm, and one behind your back. The desperate longing for the phantom sensation of something's — someone's — presence is almost unbearable.

When you and Caleb used to stay up late watching yet another late-night show, he would often fall asleep next to you, allowing you to throw your arms and legs over him, even if it meant he’d have to spend the rest of the night in the same and probably — definetely — not so comfortable position. He knew he would wake you up the moment he tried to move away. Back then, you shared the narrow seat of the sofa in the gran's living room, squeezed together with your limbs intertwined.

Now, you try to recreate that feeling by placing a pillow behind your back, nearly trapping yourself between it and the one you so habitually throw your arm and leg over. The pillows are too soft; they don’t compare to Caleb’s strong, toned body, which you remember so clearly in your embrace. But… it’s something, at least.

It becomes your ritual — a small tradition you follow almost religiously, day after day.

#love and deepspace #lads #caleb x reader #caleb

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