Discover Top Posts Tagged with #civilian reader

I know you only write for dilfs usually, but could you make an exception? I'm starved for Invincible content🥺

so many perfectly fine dilfs /gilfs in this series, smh...but for you I'll make an exception. 💌

Variant! Invincible x gn! Reader

Second Chance At Love

...in which another version of Mark invaded your world to claim something he once lost.

Warnings: angst, unrequited love, yandere adjacent, blood, kidnapping, murder, not proofread A/N: I didn't specify which variant, pick your poison

#invincible #invincible s3 #invincible x reader #mark grayson x reader #invincible spoiler #fanfiction #writing #oneshot #drabble #nondescriptive reader #civilian reader #no use of y/n

The birds liked you.

Of course they did, you always had some seeds, dried berries or nuts in your bag and shared them, when you are your lunch on the bench behind your office building. You didn't think much of it, it was just a thing you did and you liked to watch the birds pick their favourites.

Your coworkers thought it was cute and always asked for pictures, even occasionally bringing you some nut mix for the birds. When they asked you how you knew all the birds favourites, you just smiled.

"Well, I asked them of course."

It was a cute quirk that you sometimes seemed like a Disney princess despite your work. But maybe that was exactly the point, something that kept you balanced while you worked through intel about some of the most gruel crimes on humanity.

And you were good at it. So good that sometimes the S.A.S. ordered you specifically to analyse mission relevant data and deliver it personally to the TF 141. That's how you ended up in that conference room with four highly trained military men who looked at you as if they were assessing a potential threat. Not sure what the verdict would be.

Usually you didn't think that much about your appearance, in your line of work it really didn't matter, but you wished you had worn something more flattering or at least professional today instead of the comfortable dress and cardigan that made you look like a chubby dark academia librarian. Which you were, when you thought about it. But being in the same room with four very attractive men still made something inside you wish you were more. Or that you were less.

"Thank you for coming out. As you are aware, everything we talk about here is confidential. That goes both ways. Whatever you tell us, as long as it doesn't compromise our mission, will stay between us. Understood?"

"Of course, Captain Price. But I don't understand what else I can contribute here? You have all the data." You were confused. This didn't sound like the usual presentation. It was almost like an opening to an interrogation. You had seen and listened to a lot of them, the pattern was always the same. First building trust. And if that didn't work: force.

"That's exactly the point. You gave us all the data. But Lieutenant Riley here is obsessed with details sometimes and he noticed that there are a few points that seem to be... Too good? More precise than it should have been possible. Not wrong, never wrong, but just a bit too good. Like this conversation, as if someone was in the same room. No word missing. Can you explain that?"

Price was looking at you with a friendly smile. You were cute, looked harmless enough, definitely not a fighter. And your work was good, made it so much easier. To a point where it almost became a good luck charm when he saw your name on a report.

But he also noticed your eyes widen a bit when he mentioned the details and he knew you were hiding.

"Sir... I... Would you believe me, a little bird told me?"

~•°•~•°•~•°•~•°•~

I don't know if this is anything, I just had a wild thought and ran with it. Let me know in the comments what you think?

#just an idea that keeps popping up in my head #not sure if or how I want to continue this #tf141 #tf 141 x reader #chubby reader #plus size reader #civilian reader #probably #captain john price #simon ghost riley #call of duty #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #johnny soap mactavish #cod #cod modern warfare #tf 141 x you

SHE LIKES THE LANTERNS IN THE LEAGUE

Pairing: kyle rayner x civilian!reader

In Which: you tell your friend all about your thoughts on your local green lantern, not knowing he’s behind you.

Warnings: suggestive, fluff, despite the title this is a gn fic, your friend calls you ‘babe’ twice, they also judge guy and kyle’s suits (and your taste in men </3), you are the green lantern defender (and admirer), kyle chokes on his coffee, superman 1987 #170 reference. I reread two of his comics before writing and another three before editing but this still feels ooc :(

Word Count: 1416

#…cee writes!#kyle rayner x reader #kyle rayner x you #kyle rayner x y/n #green lantern x you #green lantern x reader #civilian reader #platonic kyle rayner #<- sort of #romantic kyle rayner #<- more so this #dc comics x reader #dc x reader #dc comics x you #dc x you #x reader #reader insert #civilian!reader

Hey, could you do the full 141 being platonic yans? I’m a sucker for groups of yanderes and a big fan of your writing. Maybe with a civilian reader or smth?

Of course bb, tysm <33

Platonic Yandere 141 - Civilain

Being caught in the middle of a war zone was never fun, surviving it wasn’t fun either. The streets were dead silent, blood and bodies littered the streets.

You were caked in your own blood, you had a bad gash on the side of your head, you had hit your head faster, you were blown back by a shockwave.

Some sort of explosion had gone off nearby you when everything started. You had been knocked out, it looked like you were dead. You’re lucky to be alive right now.

Your eyes flutter open, your head aches, and you can barely push yourself up onto your elbows. The world spins around, your vision tunneling, ears ringing.

“Ow..” you mumble, feeling your head, you feel something wet and warm. You pull your hand back to look at what you touched. Your fingers are red with your own blood.

You hear gunshots in the distance, and your adrenaline overtakes your confusion. You crawl towards a still intact wall, pulling yourself over the road and you curl against the wall, hands over your ears. The gunfire isn’t that close, but it’s still very loud.

You need to do something about your head, you need to stop the bleeding, it’s running down the side of your head and into your clothes, it’s not a lot, but it’s enough.

You take off your jacket, wincing as you bend your arm a weird way. Fuck, is your arm broken…?

You don’t have the stomach to look as you peel your jacket off of your other arm. You take a corner of the fabric in between your teeth and you tear your jacket into strips.

You need to bandage your head and arm before the adrenaline wears off, or else you might not be able to bandage your wounds due to the pain.

You make a DIY pressure bandage for the wound on the side of your head, bunching up a strip of fabric, pressing it against the wound, and then finally wrapping another strip around your head to hold it in place.

You swallow, you need to take care of your arm now. Your face is pale and clammy, you are on the verge of passing out, but you need to push through this.

You flinch at the sound of more gunfire, closer this time. It’s so loud, it jerks you out of your daze. You shakily grab a piece of shattered wood, it’s long enough and straight enough to use as a splint.

You let out a noise of pain as you set your arm against the wood, you wrap it up tightly, you don’t want it to move at all. You cradle the wounded limo to your chest when you finish.

You curl into yourself tighter, as you hear more gunfire, an explosion in the distance. You can’t hear any screams, it’s like there is nobody left.

You close your eyes tightly, trying to make yourself small as you hear shuffling footsteps coming from down the alley behind the wall you are currently hiding behind.

You bite your tongue as you hear the cock of a gun and more footsteps.

“Anyone yet?” One voice murmurs, British. The familiar accent doesn’t soothe your fears of being killed.

“No one alive. Really cleared everyone out, huh?” Another voice says grimly, another British accent, you hear them shuffling around.

“We should go North.” The first voice suggests, “that’s where the highway out of the city is. More civvies heading that way.”

“Hm.. only thing we can really do..” the second voice reluctantly agrees. You panic. You’re so discombobulated, you don’t know which way is which. What if North is right by you? What if they see you?

They shuffle around the wall and you hear them pause right beside you. You can’t bring yourself to look at them, they definitely saw you.

“Found one, Roach.” You hear them step right in front of you, he slings his rifle over his back.

“Check their pulse first.” Gaz tells Roach, keeping watch as Roach kneels down in front of you. He takes off his glove and he pries his way through your hunched shoulders to the pulse point on your neck.

“Alive.. probably in shock.. head injury.. broken arm.” Roach mumbles, listing all of your injuries so that he can remember all of them.

“We need to move. See if they’ll walk with us.” Gaz checks around the wall, making sure that no one has followed them.

“Hey.. kiddo.. can you hear me?” He tries to use a soothing voice. You find yourself nodding a little bit into your knees.

“Can you stand?” He asks, already prepared to carry you anyway. You probably won’t walk fast enough in your state. He sighs when you don’t respond.

His arms slide underneath you, picking you up. He holds you with one arm, under your thighs, and the rest of you is leaning on his shoulder.

“Ow..” you mumble as he picks you up, the moment moving your broken arm.

“Sorry.” Roach mumbles, already moving. Gaz leads with his rifle drawn, checking around every corner and every doorway. Roach has his hand on his hand gun, ready to fire if need be.

“Gonna take you somewhere safe, yeah?” Roach murmurs to you, he goes silent as he hears his team in his earpiece. You’re close enough to faintly hear the words.

“Update… location…” is all you can really hear, you’re so tired, every step he takes sends a jolt of pain through your arm.

“Traveling north on 16 and 6, one civvie, head injury and broken arm. Over.” Roach says into his earpiece, he is still aware of his surroundings. He holds your head down when they pass by anything less than pleasant. Dead bodies and pools of blood. He doesn’t really want you to see any of that.

Gaz and Roach lead you to safety, an armoured military van. There are probably more people inside.

“Outside.” Gaz says into his earpiece, the back door of the van opens, there are more people inside.

#platonic #platonic yandere #tw: yandere #yandere platonic #yandere #t141 #platonic yandere Simon Riley #platonic yandere john price #ghost cod #cod modern warfare #platonic yandere roach #task force 141 #cod 141 #platonic yandere gaz #civilian reader #john soap mactavish

Everything is Romantic 3

Stalker Tim Drake x Civilian Reader

Summary : You arrive at your new job and instantly run into someone, again.

Word Count : 2.1K

Note : fuck me this took longer than i thought it would. i had to rewrite it several times because the dialogue was pissing me off. im still not 100% happy with how it turned out, but i have a tendency to abandon things if i don’t work consistently on them, and i desperately dont want to abandon this fic!

Tag list : @farahdrawzz @superuddertrash-blog @looha

I’ve started a taglist for the fic, so please ask if you want to be added/removed!

It could only be described as typical for the rain that thundered down from the greying skies of Gotham. You had held out some hope that the weather would be better considering its your first day at your new office job; the very job that Tim—a stupidly attractive stranger—had offered you. The very same job that you had accepted without thinking due to your desperation to not be made homeless.

Even now as you quicken your pace into the building, listening to the way your heeled shoes click loudly against the floor, you haven’t even considered the possibility that this entire gig is fake. Not only did you never go through an official interview/application process, but there was no official confirmation of your trial position starting today. The only reassurance you had for today was Tim.

Tim, the very attractive stranger who you spilled coffee on.

There really shouldn’t have been any reason for him to offer to help. A lot of Gothamites are hostile, skeptical and unfriendly on a good day. So for someone so pretty to extend a hand like this? You honestly should be more suspicious of his true intentions.

You lower the beige coat you had hastily thrown over your head and tuck it into your arms, cringing at the wet feeling of it pressing into your chest. The main entrance area is bustling with people all dressed smartly and like they belong. Not a single person spares you a glance as they move; talking on the phone, skimming through manila coloured files, hastily knocking a steaming coffee down their throats… all of them have a purpose.

And you’re just standing here gawking with a paralysing anxiety that’s screaming “you’ve been set up”.

The sight of the giant analog clock on the wall above the front desk spurs you into action, the looming realisation that you’ll be late for your trial position if you don’t unstick yourself from the middle of the entrance area.

You clear your throat awkwardly at the front desk. A middle aged woman looks up, her eyes sharp behind the square glasses that frame her round face. She doesn’t smile. “How can I help?” She asks, a polite indifference, a dull script that she follows for the purpose of her job.

“Hi—um—I’m starting a trial position in the marketing department today… I was told to ask for Malcom?” You answer, cursing yourself for the way you stammer over your words. Your mother drilled into you that confidence is key, and yet your treacherous nerves make that difficult to fake.

The woman lowers her eyes and begins tapping away at the keyboard. She wiggles the mouse a few times before her sharp eyes flicker up once again. “Your name?”

You answer without missing a beat and she resumes her typing. Then she turns a fraction in her chair and slides open a drawer underneath the counter. A clipping noise interrupts the nervous silence, and then she extends her arm to hand over a plastic lanyard for you to take.

You automatically turn it over in your hands and take in the sight of “Temporary ID” written in bold letters on the shiny plastic. It almost makes you giddy with relief at the fact that Tim clearly hasn’t set you up with the intent to humiliate you in revenge for spilling coffee down his front.

“You want floor fifty-four, corridor C. I’ll phone ahead and let Malcom know you’re on your way up.” Her red stained lips sharpen into a smile, and you hope she’s intending for it to be friendly. “Try not to get lost.”

You stammer out an awkward “thank you” before turning on your heel and making a start for the elevator. It opens just as you arrive, and you automatically step to the side to let the group of smartly dressed individuals swarm out before entering. You press the button for floor fifty-four, just as a handful of workers follow you inside, all of them avoiding eye contact and busy with their own work to truly acknowledge you. But in a building with hundreds—maybe even thousands—of workers, you find it narcissistic to think that any single person would acknowledge you.

The elevator stops at several other floors before reaching the one you want. And you breathe a sigh of relief at finally escaping the intense silence from within the metal box.

Immediately you’re met with a long corridor splitting off down two potential ways, and your eyes dart across the walls and ceilings in search of a sign to indicate which way you need to go. But anxiety gnaws at your chest at the lack of direction. You turn back to the elevator to ask someone for help, but the doors slide shut in your face just as you open your mouth.

And suddenly you’re left alone in the middle of the corridor, cheeks flushing red.

Oh. Okay.

To busy yourself and make it look like you’re put together and not lost—to fake the feeling of unwavering confidence, you fiddle with the hem of your skirt and straighten out your blouse. It doesn’t help at all, but it gives you enough time to assess the corridor and pick a random direction to wander off in.

You head off to the right and turn the corner—

Smack!

Loose papers fly off in random directions, flapping and fluttering. It would have been cinematic if not for the string of embarrassed apologises spluttering from your mouth. You’re positive you accidentally spat some saliva out at some point too, but with your face too hot to focus on functioning like a normal person, you hardly noticed.

“It’s okay, honestly,” someone speaks up in a voice that feels familiar and eerily like dejavu in human form. A chill runs up your spine and you crane your head up to make eye contact with none other than Tim himself.

He looks sheepish and awkward, hands scrambling to swipe up the loose sheets of paper piling on the floor. You bend down to help him, feeling it’s the only thing that you can do to help out in a situation that you most definitely caused.

Your mouth twitches. “I’m sorry, Tim. We’ve really got to stop meeting like this.”

Tim finds the humour in your voice and lets out an amused, breathy laugh. His cold blue eyes meet yours fleetingly, and then he’s coughing to clear his throat and darting his gaze back towards the floor. “There’s worse ways to keep meeting someone,” he assures in a joking way, his smile so pretty and natural, “you could have spilled coffee on my shirt again, right?”

You stammer at the reminder. “Did you manage to get the stain out?” You scoop up the remaining paper files on the floor before standing to your full height, and Tim follows in a similar way.

Tim gives a light shrug of his shoulders. “Sort of. I have lots of other shirts like it, so I’ll find out when I get my laundry back.”

“Oh. Dry cleaning?” You ask, hands hastily shuffling at the papers. You cringe as the majority of them crinkle between your fingers. You can only hope that these aren’t important documents that Tim needs to deliver.

“Yeah,” Tim answers. You look over to see that his papers are all neat and uniform again, and when your eyes drift down to the papers in your own hands… you feel utterly humiliated and defeated by your own incompetence. It looks like a total mess, and you’ve most definitely ruined a few pages.

Tim shuffles his stack of papers to one arm and holds out his hand to take the ruined papers from your hands. You do so with shame, an apology tumbling from your mouth before you can second guess it.

“It’s okay. Which way are you heading?” He asks, gesturing with a nod of his head to the junction corridors at the end of the hallway. Your heart sinks at the sight of more corridors with zero signage—because how does the CEO expect anybody to navigate this labyrinth of a building like this? It’s a wonder anyone is capable of getting to their departments or meetings on time.

Your only hope is that Tim knows where he’s going. “I’m heading to Malcom’s department,” you explain, fully facing him with the faith that he’ll lead the way.

Tim’s eyes sparkle. “Let me walk you there. I’m guessing you got lost?” It’s the teasing lilt in his voice that’s the only indication of him not being annoyed at you for needing help. He begins walking, and you follow automatically.

You huff to disguise your genuine embarrassment. “Yes,” you admit, eyes rolling to the point where they might as well spill from your skull. “You’d think a company as huge as this would have signs in the corridors.”

Tim’s eyes flick to the walls then straight back to your face. “Huh. I never noticed there aren’t signs here,” he replies, lost in thought, “you make a good point that directions would be helpful. Especially for newbies like you.”

You stifle a snort. “Has nobody ever complained about the lack of signage before?”

Tim barely conceals a smile as he sheepishly shrugs his shoulders. “Not that I’ve heard. Usually the secretaries and personal assistants escort new starters or guests to the different floors.”

You give him a suspiciously playful stare. “And you never got lost on your first day?”

Tim shakes his head. “I have a really good memory. I’m surprised that nobody at the front desk offered to show you up.”

“No, the front desk lady just told me the floor I’d be working on and gave me this lanyard,” you say while lifting said lanyard up from your neck, showing off the bold letters of Temporary ID. “If I knew a personal tour was an option I would have asked for that.”

You don’t notice the flush on Tim’s pale cheeks due to the way you’re eyeing the various office-styled doors lining the corridor. The decoration is minimal enough that it screams a clean aesthetic, and honestly you’re worried about touching something and leaving finger print marks.

Tim then clears his throat, drawing your focus back to him. The stack of papers in his arms has miraculously been shuffled into a neat pile again, which is incredible considering you crinkled them to Hell. “The personal tour is an option—if you want?”

You blink up at him while registering that he means himself to give the tour. How kind of him. “Are you offering?” You ask with a gentle tilt of your head, only somewhat teasing him after you spot the flush to his cheeks. He looks incredibly bashful, and it takes all your strength not to comment on it and make the situation awkward or weird.

“Yeah—yes! I’ll clear my schedule and show you around all the floors after you’ve settled in at Malcom’s department.” Tim then gestures ahead to the glass-screened office room, where multiple workers are lounging at their computer stations, loitering near photocopiers/printers, or slurping coffee in Wayne Enterprise logo mugs. “Go ahead and meet your team. I just have to drop these files off, then I’ll be back for you. Okay?”

You eye him rather suspiciously, concerned at the idea of him abandoning his work duties for the sake of showing you around. Not to mention it’ll look a tad unprofessional for you to start your first day and abandon your work station for the sake of a show-around.

“Won’t it leave a bad impression if I introduce myself then walk off for a tour?” You ask, raising a brow. You’d rather not get in trouble before you’ve even started the job.

Tim shakes his head, black strands of his hair falling over his eyes. He looks boyish like that, rather docile and… squishable. You instantly avert your gaze to the papers in his hands as the impulsive thought of pinching his cheeks crosses your mind.

“It won’t,” he assures. “Tell them Tim Drake is showing you around.”

Is he someone important here? You suddenly wish you did some research into the various departments before coming here.

“Alright. I’ll see you soon then?”

Tim beams down at you and nods his head. Gosh, his smile is so fucking cute. “I’ll be about an hour or so. Try not to get lost again in the meantime, okay?”

You take a moment to watch as Tim turns on his heel and starts to walk back the way you came, and it’s only once he’s out of sight do you turn to the department doors. Your heart skips a beat at the fact that you’re now facing this alone, and you repeat a small, encouraging mantra to yourself to boost your confidence.

And as you step through the threshold, with a few pairs of impassive stares looking at you, you picture Tim’s reassuring smile to ease your nerves.

You’ve got this.

#female reader #tim drake x reader #Tim Drake x fem reader #Red Robin #stalker Tim drake #dc Tim Drake #dc fanfic #Tim Drake #Timothy Jackson drake Wayne #Timothy jackson drake #Tim Drake wayne #awkward Tim Drake #civilian reader #fanfic

The bittersweet idea of you and Bruno being childhood sweethearts who decided to marry at such a young age (as soon as you both turned 18) since you both know he may die any day due to his work in Passione.

All throughout the events of part 5, Giorno notices the wedding ring Bruno wears but never brings it up until the car ride to the colosseum. He finally opens up about his private life and you, telling Giorno to please return to you his ring and to look after you once he’s passed on.

He wishes he could return to your shared home and confess everything and embrace you one final time, but knows he doesn’t have time.

You wear his ring as a necklace and never take it off.

#jjba #jjba part 5 #jjba vento auero #bruno bucciarati #bruno bucciarati x reader #gender neutral reader #civilian reader #or maybe reader is in a different group

Mark Grayson & Samantha Eve Wilkins + Civilian!Reader

"Practice Kid"

✦ Context ›

You’ve been friends with Mark and Eve for a long time — even after they started dating. Somehow, instead of drifting apart, they’ve only pulled you closer into their lives. Closer than most third wheels probably should be.

✦ Content / Notes ›

Platonic dynamics. Civilian reader. Slight infantilization. Subtle platonic yandere traits. Mild unease.

#platonic yandere #samantha eve wilkins #atom eve #mark grayson #invincible #invincible x reader #light angst #platonic #infantilization #best friends #civilian reader #third wheel

"How did you never notice I was flirting with you?"

You asked Tim with a laugh. You were remembering the time you finally managed to snag Tim's romantic interest. He sheepishly replied,

“You are very hard to read."

You shook your head with a smile on your face. For one of the greatest detectives on the planet? You'd think he would have gotten the hint. You had been so amused at his obliviousness that you started a game to see how far you can push it until Tim finally gets the hint. The day that broke him was a rather memorable one.

It was a warm, sunny day. You were both at an circus, winning far too many prizes as you both cheated the obviously busted system. You were walking by a ring toss game when suddenly a stuffed animal caught your attention. You pulled Tim's shirt and pointed before saying confidently,

"Oh, look, love! I'm so winning this bear."

You (fake) tried, tried, and tried, and— Tim decided to step in. He won the teddy bear and handed it to you with a blush that rivals his Red Robin costume. You hugged the bear before pulling him into a deep kiss.

Tim's noise of surprise was swallowed by your lips. He had no idea what to do. Do friends kiss like this? He has weird superhero friends with trauma involving touch and affection, but you are... well, you. His best friend, who he's revealed his soul to.

You took his hand and tugged him into a secluded corner. You have begun to think you will have to have sex with him before he gets the hint. His thoughts were jumbled, and his head was fuzzy.

Why are you still kissing him? The bear surely isn't worth this much of a reaction. You tangled your fingers through his hair and lightly tugged on the messy strands. You let out a pleased hum when he gasped softly.

He was a blushing mess with no idea what to do. Where does he put his hands? He settled to place them around your waist. He whimpered when you sucked his bottom lip lightly and softly bit it.

You pulled away from him with a smirk. He looked like he didn't know what to do or what was really happening between you both. You took a moment to admire his bruised lips smugly. You did that. Maybe Tim will finally get a clue.

Tim knew his lips were bruised, and there would be a storm waiting for him at home, but he couldn't find himself to care past his dazed state.

You pushed yourself into his strong embrace with a teasing grin. His arms seemed to subconsciously pull you closer, but they were slack in shock. His thoughts were scrambled.

You chuckled at his dazed expression. His hands seem to move on their own as he pawed at your hips helplessly. He wants another kiss, but his brain is still processing the first one. It wasn't the first time you kissed him, but it was the first time you kissed him this intensely. You had kissed him like the world was ending, and he was your last solace on the planet.

You obliged his desire to be kissed again happily. You kissed him lazily this time. He needed to process the situation, but his body seemed to need your lips on his own to process anything. He shuddered as you held him in your steady embrace. He felt like he was falling apart and being remoulded.

He chased your lips when you pulled away with a small whine falling from his lips. You giggled at him. He was drunk on your lips. You somehow found your voice as you said,

"Thanks, my love. I think it's time we go home."

Tim gulped. Go home? With you? The one who just kissed the soul out of him? You're going to kill him. He sucked in a deep breath.

"Sunshine, we're going to have to talk about that kiss."

You smiled. Finally! Your game might be ending! It only took making out with him at a circus of all places.

Present day, Tim groaned into your neck as you cuddled with him on the living room couch in the manor.

"It was two years ago, sunshine."

You smirked. You remember the week it took for the bruising on their lips to go away. Dick was on your case about safe sex, which you had to pretend you didn't just have sex less than five hours before the talk.

Tim was mortified the whole time. Condoms aren't nearly as complicated as people make them out to be. Why must he bring out the banana? Where did he even get the banana? The kitchen doesn't have any.

Tim was a blushing mess. The lecture lasted at least an hour, and he even gave out homework like he had it prepared for this day. He wished you weren't laughing at his reactions.

The family cheered on your relationship happily regardless of the... unconventional way you got together. Jason had said,

"Finally! I was worried I was going to walk in on king clueless fucking his 'best friend.'"

Jason fake gagged while Steph elbowed his ribs. You laughed and dragged Tim closer to you.

"It took at least four months of me shamelessly flirting to win him over."

Tim pouted until you gave him an apology kiss. Your kisses always made his head fuzzy. You could make him do anything with kisses. Literally anything. He wouldn't hesitate either. He'd be so dazed that he wouldn't even notice.

You laughed when he picked you up to cuddle you in his room. He needs his cuddling time.

"So needy, my love."

You murmured in his ear. He blushed at the seductive tone you took and barely hid a whine. You kissed him slowly as he struggled to open the door.

Jason whacked the back of his head as he passed by but opened the door for the struggling Tim with an eye roll and a dramatic sigh.

Yeah, yeah, get your disgusting cuddling session going. He shuts the door behind the now kissing couple far too aggressively for Tim's liking, but who really cares? He has you in his arms, and that's all that matters.

#gn reader #tim drake x reader #batfam x reader #x reader #civilian reader