#I’m so normal about the things I like clearly

[cherryxbooo]

Yeah, I’m the lucky one

Summary: Hiding it when you're sick from your boyfriend is one thing, but hiding it from your clingy boyfriend is a whole other challenge.

Reader x Lando Norris

Genre: fluff

The paddock is alive with energy, buzzing with anticipation, the sound of engines roaring in the distance, and the hum of the crowd outside.

Lando is in his element, calm yet radiating an excitement that’s palpable.

The focus in his eyes is like nothing I’ve ever seen, and it’s clear that today matters more to him than most.

The weight of the race, the pressure of the expectations, and the fire in his heart are all simmering beneath the surface.

It's a mix of raw determination and adrenaline, and it brings out the best in him.

But me? Well, I feel the complete opposite.

I woke up feeling off, my head pounding and my body aching with a fever I couldn't shake.

I knew I should stay in bed, but I couldn’t. Not today.

Not with everything he’s worked for. I couldn’t let something as trivial as being sick get in the way of him having the best race of his career.

He’s been talking about this day for weeks, getting ready for it with an intensity that I’ve only seen in the world of motorsport.

But as I made my way through the paddock, trying my best to act normal, I felt the weight of my own discomfort pulling me down.

I’ve been silently counting the minutes until I can just crawl into a quiet corner and hide.

But the last thing I want is for him to see me like this. He’d immediately worry, go into panic mode, and lose focus.

Lando, with his big heart, would put everything aside just to take care of me, and I don’t want to do that to him.

Not today. Today is about him.

As I stand next to his family, making small talk with his friends, I feel dizzy.

The lights are a little too bright, and the sounds a little too loud.

I try to steady myself, offering a weak smile whenever someone glances my way, but the effort feels exhausting.

Lando’s mum catches my eye, and for a brief moment, I see a flicker of concern in her expression.

But she doesn’t say anything, just gives me a warm, reassuring smile. I’m grateful, but I can tell she knows something’s off.

Then, out of nowhere, I feel a familiar hand on my back. A small shiver runs down my spine as I turn to face Lando, and I instantly feel a warmth spread through me, despite the fever still creeping in.

“Hey baby, you okay?” His voice is soft, but there’s a sharpness in his eyes, like he’s always aware of everything around him, especially me.

I don’t want to worry him. I can’t.

So I give him a smile that’s more practiced than I’d like to admit,

“Yeah, just a little tired. Big day, huh?”

Lando raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.

He studies me for a second, his gaze lingering a little longer than usual, his hand gently squeezing my back.

The touch is warm, comforting. “You sure? You don’t look so great.”

“I’m fine,” I assure him, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

“You focus on the race. I’m just here to cheer you on.”

Lando hesitates, his lips pressed into a thin line as if trying to gauge if I’m really okay.

But then he nods slowly, though his concern doesn’t quite vanish.

“Alright… but if you need anything, you let me know, okay?”

His voice is almost a whisper, like he’s trying not to give away just how much he cares.

“I will,” I promise, trying to keep my tone light and convincing.

But as he walks away to prepare for the race, a sense of loneliness settles over me.

The noise around me feels overwhelming, and the crowd only amplifies the ache in my head.

I find a quiet corner, away from the chaos, hoping to just breathe for a moment.

I didn't realize that I had been hiding away for a while already.

But before I know it, Lando’s voice cuts through the distance.

“You’ve been hiding from me.”

I turn to see him standing there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed with a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

His presence alone seems to calm the storm inside me.

“I wasn’t hiding,” I protest weakly, though my voice cracks just slightly.

“Just… taking a break.”

Lando raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.

“Taking a break from what? From me?”

He takes a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently touch my cheek, his fingers warm against my skin.

I close my eyes for a second, leaning into the touch, even though I feel like I might collapse at any moment.

“From the chaos of the paddock,” I admitted softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

His gaze softens, the teasing in his eyes fading. He steps in closer, his body brushing against mine as he gently cups my face with both hands, forcing me to meet his eyes.

“Hey…” His voice is tender now, a deep, comforting lull.

“Are you really feeling okay love?"

I swallow hard, the lump in my throat suddenly unbearable.

“Yes, don't worry Lan. I'm fine.”

I whisper, my voice slightly breaking as I fight the urge to lean on him completely.

I stare up at him, feeling a mix of love and pain.

I don’t want to be the one who holds him back, but I can’t deny how much I crave the support and warmth he gives me without even thinking.

Lando lowers his hands, but not without giving me one last comforting touch, his fingers brushing my wrist.

“You need to rest,” he says firmly, but there’s a hint of playfulness behind his words now.

“I’m not going to let you make it through today without me taking care of you at least once.”

I laugh softly, despite the dizziness still swirling in my head.

“I’m fine, Lando. You go be amazing out there.”

He looks at me, his eyes soft but filled with determination. “I will be. But only because you’re here.”

Before I can say anything else, he leans in, planting a gentle kiss on my forehead.

“I’ll be right back, okay? I’ll make sure to get at least P3 for you.”

And with that, he’s gone, disappearing into the crowd of engineers and teammates.

But the moment he’s out of sight, I feel my energy drain completely.

Regardless of how I felt I still made my way to the rest so I could support Lando and be there for him.

Everywhere I look, there’s movement, excitement, and a sense of urgency.

Lando’s already suited up and surrounded by his team, getting ready to focus on the race that could mean everything for his career.

I’m supposed to be the one cheering him on, being his support, his calm, but instead, all I can do is try to survive the overwhelming wave of heat coursing through me.

Every few seconds, my head spins, my chest feels like it's on fire, and the nausea rolls in like a tide.

It’s getting harder to keep it together, but I’m trying. I can’t let anything distract him.

I can't make this his problem today, not when he’s been working so hard for this moment.

I take a seat next to Max and Pietra, hoping the three of us can keep the mood light and give Lando a little peace before he heads into the race.

I force myself to laugh at Max's joke about the weather, but it comes out more like a wheeze.

My throat feels like it’s coated in something dry and scratchy, and each breath feels like I’m not getting enough air.

Max doesn’t notice, but Pietra does.

She’s always been that way, observant, kind, and so very perceptive.

I’ve always admired how in tune she is with people.

She shifts in her seat beside me, her eyes narrowing as she studies my face.

“You okay, Y/n?” she asks gently, her voice laced with concern.

“You look a little pale.”

I immediately try to put on a smile, but it feels like the most exhausting thing I’ve done all day.

“I’m fine, really,” I say, hoping I can convince her.

“Just a little tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

Pietra doesn’t buy it, not even for a second.

She leans in closer, her gaze steady as she inspects my face, my trembling hands.

“You sure?” she presses, her brow furrowing.

“You don’t look fine. Maybe you should lay down for a bit?”

The room suddenly feels like it’s closing in on me.

The dizziness that had been simmering beneath the surface is starting to take hold, and it’s all I can do to keep my eyes focused on her.

I swallow hard, trying to push the wave of nausea down, but it’s impossible to ignore now.

I nod weakly, doing my best to stay composed.

“I’m okay, Pietra. Just... a little dizzy. I think I’ll sit down for a moment.”

Max, still glued to his phone, glances up briefly, probably sensing the shift in the air.

His eyes scan me quickly before he leans closer to Pietra, muttering something under his breath, probably about how pale I look.

I’m about to wave it off, to reassure them both that it’s nothing, when Pietra’s soft hand touches my shoulder.

It’s warm and grounding, her touch gentle but insistent.

“No, you’re not okay, Y/n,” she says firmly.

“You’re not fooling me. You need to go back to the hotel and rest. Max and I will handle everything here. Don’t worry about Lando. He’ll understand. He doesn’t need to know right now, and you’re not helping him by pretending you’re fine.”

My heart clenches at her words. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to make him worry.

He’s about to race, about to compete for something so important to him.

The last thing I want is to make this about me. But Pietra’s expression leaves no room for argument.

Her hand squeezes my shoulder, and I feel a wave of guilt hit me hard.

“I... I can’t just leave,” I whisper, my voice shaky.

“I don’t want him to—”

“Y/n,” Pietra interrupts, her voice soft but full of authority.

“Lando will be fine. He’ll be more upset if you stay here, pretending to be okay when you’re not. Let us take care of everything. He doesn’t need the distraction. He needs you to get better, not to keep pretending.”

I shake my head, still fighting it. “But he’s going to think I don’t care.”

“He knows you care. You don’t have to prove it by running yourself into the ground,” she says, her tone firm yet reassuring.

“You need to listen to your body. Max and I can make sure everything’s fine here.”

I hesitate for a moment, my vision swimming in and out of focus, and then I feel it, the dizziness getting worse.

My stomach turns violently, and I barely suppress a gasp. Before I can protest, Pietra’s up and at my side, helping me stand.

“Max,” she calls out to him, her voice tinged with urgency.

Max looks up from his phone, his attention now fully on us. He doesn’t need to ask questions.

Without a word, he stands, motions to security, and gestures for them to clear a path.

“We’re getting you back to the hotel,” Max says, his voice gentle but decisive.

“No arguments.”

I open my mouth to protest, to tell them I’m fine, but the dizziness overtakes me again.

I feel my legs wobble, my knees threatening to give way beneath me. The nausea is so strong now that I can’t hold it back any longer.

My head feels like it’s filled with cotton, and my heart races as I fight to keep everything together.

“Okay,” I whisper, too weak to resist any longer. “Okay, let’s go.”

Max’s arm wraps around my shoulder, steadying me as Pietra follows closely behind.

I glance over my shoulder at the paddock, seeing the hustle and bustle of the team preparing for the race.

And even though I want nothing more than to stay and support Lando, I know Pietra’s right, he doesn’t need to see me like this.

As we make our way out of the paddock, past the busy crew and excited fans, the world seems to blur again.

All I can think about is Lando, how much he’s worked for this, and how much I wish I could be there cheering him on.

But right now, all I can do is focus on getting back to the hotel and trying to heal.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” Pietra murmurs, sensing my anxiety.

“Lando will understand. We’ll make sure he stays focused.”

“Thank you,” I whisper back, squeezing her hand.

Max looks over at me, offering a reassuring smile.

“No problem, Y/n. We’ve got you.”

And as they guide me toward the exit, the sound of the engines roaring to life in the distance feels far away, almost like a distant memory.

All I can focus on is putting one foot in front of the other and hoping that, by the time Lando crosses the finish line, I’ll be okay.

Meanwhile,

The race was intense, there was no other way to describe it.

Lando’s heart was pounding, his breath coming in quick bursts as he fought to stay focused on the track ahead.

Each corner, each straightaway felt like it mattered more than the last.

The roar of the engine under him, the vibration in his hands as he gripped the wheel,it was like the world was screaming at him to push harder, to get everything he had into every lap.

And he did.

Adrenaline was coursing through his veins, the world outside of his car becoming a blur of colors and sounds.

But amidst the chaos, there was something else tugging at his mind, something he couldn’t quite shake.

Just before the race started, he had caught sight of Y/n sitting among their friends, looking beautiful as always, but something was... off.

Maybe it was the way she had looked at him, her tired eyes betraying a sense of exhaustion that didn’t quite match the energy of the day.

Or how quiet she seemed, like a flicker of something hidden behind her usual smile. He couldn’t pinpoint it, but something wasn’t right.

But there was no time for that.

He pushed those thoughts away, focusing back on the race, his hands steady on the wheel as he navigated the track with everything he had.

He couldn’t afford to think about anything but the next corner, the next lap, the next move.

And when he crossed the finish line, the elation of victory should’ve been enough to make everything feel perfect.

After all, he had gotten P2.

The cheers, the confetti, the roar of the crowd, it was everything he’d been working for, everything he’d dreamed of.

But in the midst of it all, he couldn’t shake the nagging thought of Y/n.

His gaze searched the area, instinctively looking for her.

He was surrounded by teammates, sponsors, friends, but all he wanted in that moment was to see her smile, to know she was okay.

He scanned the area again, but she wasn’t there.

Not where he had left her. His stomach tightened, his mind racing. Something wasn’t right.

Lando quickly moved through the crowd, dodging everyone on his way, his eyes darting between faces, searching for any sign of her.

He was so focused on finding her, he almost didn’t see Max and Pietra standing off to the side.

When he finally noticed them, his heart skipped a beat. You weren't there.

Lando’s pace quickened as he approached them, his voice betraying the worry he couldn’t hide.

“Where’s Y/n?” he asked, his words coming out sharper than he intended.

Pietra exchanged a glance with Max before she sighed, the look on her face telling Lando everything he needed to know.

"She wasn’t feeling well," she said softly, her eyes clouded with concern.

"We had to send her back to the hotel."

Lando’s chest tightened, a heavy weight settling over him.

His pulse quickened, the sudden rush of guilt and worry clouding his thoughts.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” The words slipped out before he could stop them, his voice rising slightly, not in anger, but in genuine confusion.

Max stepped forward, his expression calm but serious.

"Mate she didn’t want to distract you. She said it was important not to take your focus away from the race."

Lando’s mind was spinning now, the elation of his victory evaporating as quickly as it had come.

Guilt was flooding him, he couldn’t believe Y/n had been struggling, that she’d hidden it from him.

She’d always been there for him, supportive, understanding, even when he was caught up in his own world.

And now, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d let her down.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but the weight of the situation was suffocating.

He didn’t know what to say.

All he could think about was how she had been sitting there, probably feeling miserable, and he hadn’t even noticed.

The race, his career, all of it felt so insignificant compared to the thought of Y/n being alone and sick.

“Why didn’t she just tell me? I would’ve understood. I could’ve—”

Pietra stepped forward, her hand gently resting on his arm, grounding him in the moment.

“Lando, she didn’t want you to worry. She knew how much today meant to you. She didn’t want to take that away from you.”

Max nodded in agreement.

“She’s always there for you. But she’s not the type to let herself be a distraction, not when you’re in the zone like that. You know how she is, she cares about you more than anything, but she didn’t want to pull you away from your focus.”

Lando let out a long breath, feeling like the weight of the world was pressing down on his chest.

“I should’ve noticed,” he muttered, his gaze dropping to the ground.

"I should’ve been paying more attention."

"You’re not a mind reader, Lando," Pietra said, her voice calm but firm.

Lando realized that she was right.

He quickly greeted the rest of his family and did some other duties before changing and heading back to the hotel.

Lando arrived at the hotel room, his body still buzzing from the race, but his mind consumed by a different kind of worry.

As soon as he entered, the first thing he did was quietly close the door behind him.

The soft hum of the air conditioning and the dim light from the lamps were the only sounds in the room.

His eyes immediately fell on your figure, still asleep, your peaceful face glowing softly under the sheets.

The sight of you, so vulnerable yet so beautiful, made his heart ache with both affection and guilt.

He quietly pulled a chair from the small desk and sat down beside the bed, never taking his eyes off you.

He wanted to be close to his girl, but he didn’t want to wake you.

He knew you needed rest, but the worry of the day, the worry about you, hadn’t let up.

He reached out, brushing a lock of hair from your face.

His fingers lingered there for a second before he let out a soft breath, resting his chin in his hand, his elbow on his knee.

He could almost hear the questions running through his mind, wondering why you hadn’t told him what you had been feeling.

He could feel the weight of your absence, the quiet ache in his chest from not knowing exactly what had been going on with you.

The minutes seemed to stretch on, each tick of the clock amplifying his thoughts.

He hated this uncertainty, this feeling that something had been left unsaid.

Then, after what felt like forever, a soft groan escaped from your lips, and Lando’s attention snapped to her immediately.

Your eyes fluttered open, blinking against the dim light in the room.

Your gaze slowly focused on him, confusion settling on her face as she took in her surroundings.

Lando watched her with a mix of relief and concern, his heart lightening at the sight of you waking up but still heavy with the questions that lingered in his mind.

"Hey, sleepyhead," Lando said softly, his voice full of warmth and affection.

My vision cleared, and I smiled sleepily at him.

Lando’s heart squeezed.

"You’re awake. I’ve been here waiting for you to wake up for, like, ages now." He chuckled softly, though his eyes were still filled with concern.

"But seriously… why didn’t you tell me?"

I sighed, feeling the weight of everything pressing on me.

My hand reached for his, finding his fingers weakly, and I squeezed them, my fingers trembling a bit.

"I didn’t want to be a burden," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

"I didn’t want to ruin your day or take away from the race. It was important to you. I just… I didn’t want to distract you."

Lando smiled at me softly, his thumb gently stroking the back of my hand.

"You’re never a burden, Y/n." He looked at me with such sincerity, it made my heart ache in the best way.

"You are always my priority, okay? Not the race, not the fans, not the win. You. Always."

I felt my heart flutter at his words, my eyes softening as I looked back at him.

The tears I’d been holding back threatened to spill, and I could feel them welling up.

Being sick just makes people extra emotional, give it a break yeah?

"I’m sorry," I murmured, my voice breaking slightly.

Lando shook his head, his heart aching.

He leaned closer, cupping my cheek gently, his thumb brushing over my skin.

"You don’t have to apologize," he whispered.

"You never have to hide anything from me, especially not when it comes to you."

I felt the weight of his words, the tenderness in his touch, and I wanted so badly to just melt into him.

I was so grateful for him, for the way he always made me feel safe, loved, and heard.

Lando sat beside me on the bed, leaning back just enough to grab the water and medicine he’d set out earlier.

"You need to drink this," he said softly, his voice gentle but firm.

"Get some rest, and I’ll be right here with you. Just take it easy."

I hesitated for a moment, but then reached for the glass of water he held out to me.

My fingers were still shaking slightly, but I took it from him gratefully.

There was a small, tired smile on my lips as I drank, and Lando’s eyes never left me.

He was watching me closely, making sure I was okay. It felt nice to be looked after this way.

After I finished the water, Lando sat back down next to me again, his hand finding mine once more.

"You don’t ever have to hide something like that from me, okay?" he said, his voice soft but serious.

"If something’s wrong, you have to tell me. Promise me you’ll tell me next time."

I looked up at him, my eyes full of emotion, and I nodded slowly.

The tears I’d been holding back finally spilled over, and I felt a few of them slide down my cheeks.

Before I could say anything, Lando quickly wiped them away with his thumb, his touch light, tender.

"I’m sorry," I whispered again, my voice barely audible.

He slightly laughed, "You're such a crybaby when you're sick babe."

Lando leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment.

"You don’t have to apologize," he said, his voice full of love and affection.

"I love you, baby. I love you, and that’s all that matters." His voice was quiet but strong, filled with reassurance.

I pulled him closer, resting my head against his chest, letting out a small, exaggerated sigh.

"Mmm, this is the best pillow ever," I mumbled, half-laughing, half-groaning in exhaustion.

Lando wrapped his arms around me, pulling me in tighter.

His chin rested on top of my head, and he chuckled softly.

"You come first," he said with a mock-serious tone, trying to sound all deep and dramatic.

"Always."

I snuggled in a little closer, feeling his warmth.

"Oh, I know now," I said, glancing up at him with a grin.

"You’re basically my personal butler, aren’t you? Always there when I need you."

He let out a dramatic gasp. "But of course! My whole existence is to serve you, my queen."

I rolled my eyes, fighting back a laugh.

"Thank you for being here," I said, the words half-sweet, half-teasing.

Lando smirked, pressing a kiss to my hair.

"Please don't cry again... and well yeah, where else would I be? I’m not going anywhere."

Then, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he added,

"Besides, you’ve got me wrapped around your finger. You know that, right?"

I couldn’t help but laugh lightly, feeling him grin against the top of my head.

"Oh, I know," I said, playfully tapping his chest.

"You're my big soft marshmallow. I practically own you."

Lando chuckled, his arms tightening around me. "You absolutely do. And you’re not even sorry about it."

I smirked, rolling my eyes. "Well, I am your number one priority, aren’t I?"

His eyes sparkled with affection, and he pulled me a little closer.

"You’re my number one everything, Y/n. No competition."

I snorted, unable to help the grin that spread across my face.

"Good. Glad we’re clear on that."

As we sat there, wrapped up in each other, the world outside felt miles away.

All that mattered was us, his heartbeat, my tired sighs, and the way we fit together like we’d always been meant to.

For a moment, everything else faded, and all I could think was: Yeah, I’m the lucky one.

The end

[naniwatig3r]

CONTOUR LINES (18+)

Mingyu x artstudent!Femreader

Summary: You’ve finally broken up with your boyfriend Mingyu. Ignoring him has been hard, but you were finally at peace. But he had other plans, as he shows up to the figure drawing class you T.A…. And as the model.

Warnings: Unexplained breakup (im lazy lol), angst, cute fluff sometimes, art school stress, public nudity, public unprotected penetrative sex (no one is around though!), quickie

a/n: this was a idea i got while messing around with my friend who has a thing for mingyu, lol.

Word count: uhhh, around 7k ? I can’t remember 😅

————————

Another miss call.

Great, you thought, the tenth missed call from your ex boyfriend Mingyu this week.

It’s been about a month since you broke up with your ex, Kim Mingyu. It was an odd pairing in the first place. You met him coincidentally in the quad the beginning of the year, as you sat at the edge of the school fountain. Your sketchbook open, as you drew the scenery and people around you. A normal activity you did as an arts student.

You were clearly in the zone, drawing the fold in a random college student’s arm, before a voice interrupted your thoughts.

“Whoa, you can draw.”

Your eyes snap up, seeing a towering figure, completely blocking your view. No shit, you thought.

“Yeah, I guess.” You say plainly, hoping your short answer would deter this guy. But then the sunlight is back on the page you’re drawing, and you feel his warm presence sit right next to you. Maybe he’s just sitting down to sit down, so you try and finish your life drawing of the current student, but they were gone. Probably going to their next class.

Huffing, you still for a moment to put your pencil down.

“I wish I could draw like that,” You hear, as you glance to your side. Furrowing your eyebrows in irritation as the man leans over to stare directly into your sketchbook. “You’re a really good drawer.” He says in awe.

“Yeah, uh, thanks.” You say curtly, as he continues to stare at your sketches like he’s at a museum. These sketches were nothing compared to a Degas or something, yet he stared at them like it was, his brown eyes flickering around in interest.

He clears his throat, as he looks up to meet your eyes. He smiles, a toothy one where you notice how sharp his canines were. Cute.

He pulls his sleeve up from his wrist to his elbow, holding his large hand out, “Mingyu. Kim Mingyu.” He says, introducing himself. You nod, reluctantly shaking his hand, his grip tight and strong.

“Y/n.” You say back shortly, eyeing him, wondering how long this tall man was going to bother you.

He lets go of your hand, as he adjusts his position to turn more towards you. One leg over the other, leaning forward. His bangs falling so perfectly across his eyebrow, that it made you narrow your eyes. It’s crazy, people like this seriously exist huh?

“Do you do art or something?” No shit.

You nod, “Yeah, I’m a fine arts major.” You respond, giving him a strained polite smile. It felt like you had to, the way this guy has been beaming at you like a puppy as you give the driest replies.

He grins, “Whoa, no way. Thats cool,” He praises, “I’m—“

The rest of the meet cute didn’t matter.

After this, you kept bumping into him, coincidence you thought at first, but thinking back… he had no reason to be near the art school area of the campus.

He always asked to see your sketchbook, or whatever was in your portfolio folder as you tried to get to your studio. Even helping you carry your supplies and folders inside, and once he learned where you worked he came with iced coffee when he could.

At 3 am, he’d lay on the floor of your messy studio, watching you as you mix another color on your palette. Your sweatshirt pushed to your elbows, paint on your hands and face as you work on the gigantic canvas for your final.

“You don’t have to be here, you know,” You say a bit softly, your eyes tired despite your multiple energy drinks. “It must be boring to watch me throw paint for the last few hours.”

He shakes his head, sitting up as he looks at you with his puppy like eyes. “No, I like it. You’re so focused…” He trails, “I didn’t think art would be this hard.”

You glare at him for that remark, making him immediately tread back. His mouth gaping open and closing like a fish, “Ah! Not like that it’s easy — just that you’re so passionate you know?” He explains, throwing his hands around.

Rolling your eyes, you put your brush back into the muddy cup of water. “Why? Engineering not doing it for you?” You ask lazily, as you pull your claw clip out of your hair. Massaging your scalp from the tension.

Mingyu’s eyes focused on you, his cheeks slightly flushing. Eyes roving over how strands of your hair effortlessly frame your face. He clears his throat, “Uh, no. I like it. I’ve always been good at studying, and I get the material so,” He says, as he scratches his head.

“But I guess, it’s different watching you. Your eyes are different when you’re drawing, painting, sculpting. Whatever.” He says quietly.

“Different?” You muse, standing up to stretch your legs. Mingyu following instinctively, his tall frame dwarfing you.

He nods, “Mhm, yeah. I thought art was just a major for people who didn’t want to do anything, but getting to know you…” he says, as he follows you to your studio table. As you open the most recent energy drink you got from the vending machine. “You just don’t stop. Like you’re meant to do it.” He breathes.

His genuine words make you raise an eyebrow, turning to him. You give him a small smile, making his heart rate jump. “Yeah? It’s like you, I think.” You say, taking a sip of that battery acid of a drink. “I’ve just been doing this since forever. Natural to keep going.” You say nonchalantly, but Mingyu looks at you like you’re a living genius.

“Thats whats so cool,” He gushes, “You’re just made to do this.” He says, as he glances at your current work in progress. A large canvas with pleasing colors, his eye being drawn to the right areas. The beautifully rendered figure, framed with all the right strokes.

He looks back at you, with such an adoration you think it’s hallucinations from doing so many allnighters.

“Ah,” he starts, as he moves his long legs to shuffle through his bag, pulling out some tupperware. “I forgot, I was making uh, some dinner earlier and I had leftovers.” He lies, knowing full well he made it for you. He turns around, opening the tupperware to reveal a lunch box of different side dishes and protein. It could rival any meal inspo on pinterest, as he even carefully cut out seaweed to make cute faces.

You snicker, making Mingyu’s cheeks pink. “Leftovers huh?” You say, as you grab the lunchbox from him. Your fingers brushing over his, a welcome warmth from the cold air conditioning of the studio. “Thanks, I appreciate it. I was just gonna make some ramen.”

“Yeah no problem,” He strains, smiling. “You need energy to keep on going right? At least eat well if you’re gonna sacrifice your sleep.”

You take a bite, and even though it was cold, you nod in approval at the taste. The annoyingly large man could cook. Your reaction makes Mingyu grin, as you can see shamelessly how much that did to his ego.

“Still, you should go you know?” You say, as you remember Mingyu talking about his week a few days ago as you painted. “Don’t you have an exam tomorrow?”

Oh? He doesn’t focus on the fact that you’re asking him to go. Only that you remembered his schedule. He grins, “You remembered huh?”

You roll your eyes, “Of course I did. You told me.” You say, your own cheeks reddening from how embarrassed you felt from Mingyu’s reaction. Why was he so excited?

He shakes his head, “It’s fine, I was reviewing earlier. It’s in the afternoon anyways.”

You finish the lunchbox, washing it down with your energy drink before going to pick up a new large paint brush. “Fine by me then,” you sigh, not bothering to argue with him. It was weird the first time he accompanied you on an allnighter, but Mingyu’s presence became a normal occurrence since then.

And there he was, sitting obediently like a dog next to you as you continued painting. Your playlist ending hours ago, as the only sounds are the strokes of your brush, and the breathing of both of you.

It was like this for a while, until near the end of the year. This time, you were running out of steam.

Maybe it was all the all nighters the whole year, or the fact you got sick right before finals, but you were stuck in your studio once more. Slaving away as you work on your third painting of the night, trying to get your exhibition finished before sunlight.

You hear the sound of the door opening. He had his own key now — you copied one at one point since he always was knocking. Mingyu coming in with late night take out in one hand, clad in grey sweatpants and a hoodie, ready to tackle the night with you.

You don’t even bother looking behind you, his familiar presence and cologne already telling you who it is. “Hey,” He says softly, putting the food down as he notices your tired state. It was like you were running on fumes, the amount of empty redbulls and monsters around your studio telling him all he needed to know.

You grunt, “Yeah, hey.” You say tiredly, as you wipe your face with the back of your hand. Paint smearing on your cheek. Mingyu comes over with a napkin from the takeout container, huffing as he wipes your cheek with it.

“Whens the last time you took a break?” He asks, a bit worried. Despite hanging out with you for so long, he wouldn’t say he knew anything about art. But he knew you. And the way your wrist movements against the canvas were sluggish, and the way your eyebrows furrowed as the strokes didn’t land and look the way you wanted… he knew you were at your limit.

“Doesn’t matter, I have another painting after this.” You say roughly, “Fuck, I’m such an idiot. I should have painted when I was sick. At least worked on the concepts and colors so I didn’t have to figure it out right now.” You rant, sucking your bottom lip into your teeth.

Mingyu frowns, “No, y/n. What about a fifteen minute break? I got burgers, it’ll help.” He says, but your face isn’t budging, like the strict deadlines for the paintings.

You curse, “God, Mingyu, I can’t stop. All the fucking pieces look like shit, if I stall any longer I’ll never finish this ass of an exhibition.” You say shakily, as you haphazardly throw your brush into the water cup, the muddy water splashing out. You grab another brush to pick up a new color.

He looks around the 10 other pieces littered around the room drying, he doesn’t get it, and he never would. They all looked great, cohesive despite your protests. “Y/n, they look great. You gotta take a break you know? Maybe it’ll help. Maybe your eyes will like, reset or something. You’ve been looking at this painting for hours.” He says, trying to reason.

You don’t listen, as you flick your wrist harshly to create a quick line of color.

clack!

You wince, dropping your brush to clatter on the floor. Your wrist acting up at the worst time, as you curse under your breath. Mingyu’s hands go up instinctively to hold your wrist, holding it still.

“God, now my wrist is flaring up too. Great, just what I need!” You curse bitterly, your head down.

Mingyu holds your wrist gently, despite your angry state you don’t push him away as he gingerly inspects your wrist. “Hey, come on. Lets take a break, and then we can wrap your hand alright?” He says softly, trying to coax you.

He leans down to see your hidden face, and it breaks his heart. Hot tears welling in your eyes from stress, frustration, and the impending deadline.

He doesn’t think twice, leaning down to hold you into an embrace, pulling you off your stool into his arms. Tight, the tips of your shoes barely grazing the floor. You can’t help but cry into his shoulder, “God, why am I so bad? I can’t show anyone any of this,” You sob, as Mingyu rubs your back. His grip tightening around you, holding you close as you basically collapse into his arms.

“Hey, y/n, you’ve just been working too long. Lets take a break alright? It’ll look better once you rest your eyes a bit, I promise.” He coos, “I’ve got some burgers and sweet potato fries, even convinced them to give me extra —“

“Mingyu, why are you always here?” You ask bluntly, choking back your tears. Through the whole year you’ve been tolerating him getting closer. First, random conversations when you bumped into each other on campus, then visiting the art school, coming to your studio, staying to keep you company. You never once tried to push him away, but you didn’t understand how he hasn’t been turned off yet. Your all nighters, your insecurities, the way you reject his invitations to campus parties and events to work. It was all a mystery, especially as you crash out in his arms, over some acrylic and oil on canvas. This must look pathetic to him.

His eyes are a bit panicked at the question, “I uh, do you not want me to be?” He asks reluctantly, still holding you close.

You sniff, your hand against his chest, gripping the fabric of his hoodie into your fist.

“No, I just... Thank you.” You say quietly into his chest, and Mingyu felt his head spin. You could definitely hear it, he thought, the way his heart was pounding out his chest. How you relied on him, telling him to stay. If it wasn’t for the fact you were leaning on him to stay up, he’d probably melt into a puddle on the floor.

Mingyu takes you to the table, helping you sit down on one of the comfier chairs. A foldable one with a pillow he brought at one point, so he could watch you comfortably. He boasted once — y/n look! Found this by the dumpster!

You let out a deep sigh as you sit down, Mingyu bending down to his knees to look at you eye level. A hand to your cheek as you close your eyes tiredly. “Hey, you okay?” He asks, searching your face.

You nod, “Yeah, um, sorry,” You sigh, “I’m just — I’m just stressed. I didn’t mean to have a breakdown in front of you.” You say apologetically, embarrassed by it. But he shakes his head, not affected by it. In fact, it probably caused him to fall harder, seeing how hard you work.

“Don’t apologize,” He says, pushing strands of your hair back. You look up at him, straight into his brown eyes. The way he looks at you so fondly, worried, that his bottom lip juts out slightly as he observes you. The way his fingers felt along your cheek, how he’s warmed you up in the cold room, brought takeout for you.

Fuck, how his hair is tousled under the hood, and the fact his face was a sight for sore eyes after looking at your paintings all day. Something with actual 3d planes staring at you, instead of flat canvas. Maybe it was the all nighters, the fact you’re on multiple energy drinks on an empty stomach, or that Mingyu is there for you.

You lean forward, shutting your eyes shut as you push your lips against his.

It’s warm, soft… might even get lost in it if—

You pull back after a second, as you see Mingyu’s wide eyes.

Oh fuck, did you read this wrong? Shit, at least you can blame it on lack of sleep—

A pair of lips crash into yours again, this time, you part yours as Mingyu’s warm lips mold into yours. Its warm, and comforting and everything nice, as you grab his collar to pull him closer. Making him stumble forward as he holds onto the edge of the chair to steady himself close to you.

You let out a soft breath as Mingyu snakes his free hand around to the small or your back, pushing you close as possible to him. Mingyu compensating for your lack of energy with his, as he kisses you deeply, something he’s always wanted to do. Every since he watched you draw random people at that campus fountain.

He pulls back as you pathetically try to chase his lips, as he kisses you chastely before speaking. “Y/n,” He breathes, “Fuck, you don’t know how long I wanted to do that.” He confesses, as he holds your face in his large hands.

You smile softly, “Mingyu, I—“

The box of charcoals clatter, as you accidentally drop it right next to the table of supplies. Sheepishly you bow at the students in class, not meaning to disrupt their focus.

You bend down to pick up the charcoal. What are you doing? It may be the third figure drawing class today, but dropping a box of pencils as you recount your days with Mingyu was horrible. Terrible.

Especially when you boasted to one of your friends as you shared a meal, Ah, Kim Mingyu? Thats over. Lets just focus on grad review.

You sigh, standing back up as you slide the box of art supplies on the table. Checking the time, you slide the notifications of Mingyu’s missed calls away. It was five minutes before class started, where the hell was the model?

And as if on cue, the other T.A. comes skitting towards you, pushing her glasses up as she avoids the boxes of supplies around the room. “Ah, Y/n—“ She starts, talking quietly to not cause alarm.

She stops in front of you, as you furrow your brows. Today the professor wasn’t in. As the consistent T.A., she trusted you to handle today with no substitutes. It wasn’t anything hard. You just helped set up the drawing horses and supplies, adjusted the lights and made sure the models were comfortable. It was easier especially when another T.A. was assigned to assist you today.

“Hm? What?” You ask, as you dust your hands.

She takes a deep breath, “Um, well, the model got food poisoning.” She starts. Leaning in so other students didn’t hear. “I just learned this right now, she’s like in the bathroom in the main hall throwing up like crazy.”

You frown, “What? Is she okay?” You say, straightening up, walking towards the front door grabbing your jacket off one of the stray art horse chairs.

She follows clumsily, “She’s fine! But she can’t model for this class. I know you’re in charge, but I panicked and just called whoever was on the emergency model list.”

You stop, causing the other T.A. to bump into your back, with a little squeak. A small what should have been insignificant memory flooding back.

“You’re TAing now? Seriously?” Mingyu asks lightly, as he fiddles with a loose strand of your sweater, the rough pads of his fingers pulling on it.

You slap his hand away disapprovingly, causing him to pout. “Yeah, just for figure drawing. I want to make a little money anyways, but working at the campus cafe is too time consuming.” You respond, as you continue to draw in your sketchbook. Outlining the foliage in front of you with your pen.

“Hm, what would that mean?” He asks, leaning forward to wrap an arm around your shoulder. Careful not to disturb your drawing, as he rests his chin on your closer shoulder. Watching you draw was his favorite past time nowadays.

“Just like, setting up, taking care of the figure drawing models. Things like that.” You respond absentmindedly.

“Models? Like, thats a job?” He asks, making you crack a smile. You forget how normal people knew nothing about art. You’re just glad he was openminded about basically everything.

You turn to look at him, “Yeah, the school hires people to pose for drawing. Its for studying.” You respond, as you tap your pen against the tip of his nose, where his beloved mole resided. Making him scrunch his nose, the corners of his lips turning up.

“Actually, I should write the emergency contact list. The professor updates every semester of models to contact if theres no shows, and the et cetera. I should just do it now so I don’t forget —“

“Add me on there then.”

You blink.

“Huh, what?” You say confused, looking at him with raised brows.

He straightens up, “You heard me. Add my number to that list. It sounds interesting,” He defends, his tone light.

You shake your head, smiling. “Mingyu, you don’t get it. You have to stand there naked, and do different poses every five to thirty minutes. Its not an easy thing to do.” You say, dismissing his words as nonsense. Sometimes he was too eager to try things just because they existed in your world.

Mingyu doesn’t falter. “Yeah I know. I just, it sounds cool. Also having a bunch of people drawing me, I don’t know… sounds nice. Also its like emergency contact right?” He says shrugging, “It’s not like it’ll actually happen. I know you’d never call me if it was an emergency, but just add me on it. If all models decide they’re not feeling it that day.” He suggests lightly.

You stare at him still in disbelief, narrowing your eyes. He scoffs, leaning forward to lean his forehead against yours as a challenge. A little goofy smile on his face, “What? Come on. Just add me to the list.”

The rational side of you knew this would never actually happen. Mingyu had no qualifications, and besides, there was a dozen other numbers to call before him. So you suck it up, sighing, writing his name down. Just for the sake that he’d shut up about it.

“Okay, fine.”

Your heart beats, eyes wide as you try to calm yourself. You didn’t want to release your anger against this girl for trying to fix the situation. It was your fault, really, in the first place to put his number on there. But this never was something that has happened before.

“Which number picked up?” You ask calmly, clasping your hands together as you focus on not exploding on your fellow T.A.

“Uh, just called the first one. He said he was on campus so he was down, and we only have five minutes till class—“

“Jesus, his name please?”

“Kim Mingyu.”

Oh fuck. Fuuuucckkkkk.

Mouth wide, and panicked eyes, you start to speak, before you hear the opening of the classroom door. You turn, and your face practically goes pale.

There he was — Kim Mingyu, just in a simple coat and pants. His eyes immediately landing on you. Its only been a month, but he cut his hair. Slightly shorter than you remember, as you tilt your head.

Stop it. You have to act normal.

You take a deep breath, trying to act professional. There was no time to question why the hell he’d even pick up and walk all the way here. Or why your heart was beating so fast, just looking at him.

“Um, escort him to the dressing room area.” You start, prying your eyes from Mingyu to the other T.A. “There should be a clean robe there too.” You inform, patting her arm as you beeline straight away from them.

You find a haphazardly stacked amount of newsprint, focusing on making all the edges match as you calm your heart. It’s fine, it really is.

For some reason Mingyu was interested in figure drawing modeling before. Maybe he just wanted to cross that off his bucket list, and had nothing to do with you.

The other T.A. comes back to stand beside you, “Is he comfortable?” You ask.

“Yeah, he’s fine. Just seems a little inexperienced,” She responds, scratching her cheek. “He asked if he had to take all his clothes off, and I was like, huh? Yeah? But other that that—“

“Yeah, alright.” You interrupt dryly. “Thank you. I’ll just take over after this.” You say, as you grab the timer from the table.

You walk towards the center, clearing your throat as the art students look up. “Right, hi. Professor Kang isn’t here today, but don’t mind. Today will be quite an easy day.” You start, crossing your arms.

Your eyes immediately follow to the ruffle of the dressing curtain, as Mingyu walks out in a fluffy robe. Brown eyes meet yours, and for a second you think this will be fine. Until the corners of his lips turn up, into a toothy grin only you knew so well.

That motherfucker. Bucket list my ass, he said yes just to mess with you!

You turn away sharply, focusing back on the class. “The model today is Kim Mingyu.” You say shortly, before stepping off the small platform.

You gesture for Mingyu to walk to the center, your face stone cold as you watch him step onto the platform.

He clears his throat, “Do I take the robe off now?” He asks cluelessly.

Great, just show everyone you have no clue what you’re doing. If this was a few months ago, it’d be cute. But Mingyu standing hopelessly waiting for instructions was annoying you, to say the least.

You nod, and immediately, he undoes his robe and lets it fall to the floor.

You can’t help but stare. Your lips pressed into a thin line, your body tense. Stop stop stop! You couldn’t give him a reaction. As an artist, it was normal to see naked bodies. It wasn’t a sexual thing, especially in figure drawing. But Mingyu wasn’t just an old man or something. He was a conventionally attractive, tall, well built man. In more places than one.

“Oh shit, he’s hot.” The other T.A. whispers to you, covering her mouth. You bite back your embarrassment, as you just send her a glare for her unprofessional reaction.

It doesn’t help that other people around the room are pleasantly surprised by Mingyu, as I see pink dusting around people’s cheeks. It was infuriating, to say the least.

“Holy shit, a hot model. Is this real?”

“I thought we had a middle aged woman today. Bro… score!”

“I’ve never stared so closely.”

“Alright, warm ups. Ten one minute poses.” You say plainly, holding up the timer and pressing down on it. Immediately, Mingyu nods, springing into action.

His poses were something else. They were a bit awkward, as he stood there. First putting his hands on his hips, staring at the ground.

But he started getting more comfortable. After the ten one minute poses were up, the other T.A. Adds a stool to the platform for Mingyu to sit on.

“One pose, 15 minutes.” You say, setting the timer again.

This time instead of looking at the ground, wall, or ceiling, he stared straight at you. His eyes unwavering. The sight makes your mouth go dry, as the studio lights enhance Mingyu’s features perfectly.

His face framed by the little curl of his bang, light bouncing off his tanned skin as the definition of his muscles are on display. The way his large shoulders balance his proportions, and his skin smooth and tightly wrapped around his toned torso. He always was working out, and it seemed like he kept that up, as your eyes trail from his abs to his bottom half. Your cheeks flushing as he’s so unabashedly bare in front of the whole room.

But it only propelled your anger. How could he? Just step into your domain — the art school wing — and just come here? Posing like a gangly weirdo, riding on his looks so none of the students complained. Staring straight into your eyes as a confrontation. So much it felt like he was telepathically speaking to you.

Why aren’t you returning my calls? Or, how does this make you feel? It was infuriating.

And as if satisfied in your attention on him, he smirks, like he won some imaginary battle. This idiot.

The timer rings, making you flinch against the supply table. Your cheeks flush slightly, as you clear your throat. “Another 6 poses, each 2 minutes.” You manage to choke out, pressing the timer.

As the figure session goes on for the next hour, Mingyu’s confidence was starting to irritate you to no end. At first what was awkward, was now overtly dramatic. His poses of showing off his muscles, flexing his back, it was too much. People were here to draw, not ogle.

You decided to play, not wanting Mingyu to have the upper hand. As Mingyu goes to pick up the robe off the ground, you yell, “Stop right there!”

Mingyu freezes immediately, mainly out of confusion. His eyes drifting to you, a slight furrow of his brows.

“Now, the model will stay still. Do you see how the arm connects to the shoulder blades? Please turn to a new paper and start focusing on that area.” You say, stopping Mingyu in an uncomfortable position in the name of education.

You eye how his leg starts to shake from holding it, but it only fuels you. “Now focus on the thigh muscle, we’ll hold this pose for another 3 minutes.” You say, a little glee seeping into your voice.

Mingyu’s eyes shooting up to glare at you, as you cock your head and smile.

You push Mingyu to do crazy things, like pretending to do a lay up for 10 minutes to talk about line of action. Or when you asked the students to move in closer to draw his face, having twenty people at once hyper fixate on his expression. Now, the class was fun. You completely turned it around.

The timer rings. “Alright, lunch break.” You say, as it’s half way through the 6 hour class.

Theres a collective sigh of relief, as students massage their wrists, and Mingyu putting his robe back on, but loosely. Letting his chest peek out through the fabric, as he walks around the room.

You watch as he circles, smiling and complimenting others.

“Wow, thats really good.”

“Whoa, really love how you drew that one.”

“Is that how I look? I’m flattered! Thanks.”

You huff, looking away as you catch a glimpse of him leaning over a pretty girl’s shoulder as she shows her sketches. Purposefully letting the loose robe drape his exposed chest as he examines the drawings.

Students get up to stretch their bones outside, getting lunch during the break. The other T.A. goes to check on something, leaving only you and Mingyu in the figure drawing room.

You stand, ignoring him as you walk towards the platform, readjusting the power of the studio lights. “Next part of the class is long poses,” You say, twisting the knob. “So it’ll be harsh lights. you just have to sit there, it’ll easy.”

You turn back around, Mingyu looking at you with a small smile, barely a yard away. His hands on his hips, as he looks down at you. “You know,” He drawls, his voice low. “This was a lot more fun than I thought.”

“Is it?” You respond bitterly, “Well I’m glad. Because you’re not gonna be paid for this.” You inform him, as Mingyu isn’t a real model signed with the school.

“Thats okay, I’m getting what I wanted anyways.”

You sigh, as you cross your arms. Deciding not to beat around the bush.

“What are you doing here, Mingyu?” You ask tiredly, finally looking at him straight, your brows furrowed. You boldly looking into his playful eyes.

His smug expression softens, almost reminiscent to how he would look at you before everything. He takes his bottom lip under his teeth, chewing as he looks at you.

“You seriously need me to answer that? Like always?” He says quietly, but with only you two in the studio, he could whisper from across the room and you’d still catch it.

“What, like you actually answer me with anything that makes sense?” You respond back tightly. Sighing, you relax your shoulders, biting your cheek as you glance away from him. A student’s messy pencil case catching your attention, albeit forced.

A deafening silence falls. Mingyu never really liked to fight anyways.

“You’re, you’re difficult, you know that?” He starts, as he ruffles his hair with his hand, as if that would release his pent up frustration. “When I got the random phone call that you guys needed a last minute model, I thought for a second it was intentional.”

He takes a step closer, “But of course not. You looked like you saw a ghost when I walked in.”

You gulp, “Well, to be fair, thats what you are now.” You say quietly. Avoiding his eyes.

“Oh? So I’m just dead to you?”

“No, that would be easier.” You snap, finally looking back to face his eyes. Mingyu’s jaw clenched, his eyebrows knitted, trying to figure you out like an abstract art piece.

He swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing as he lets out a disappointed huff. “y/n.” He starts firmly, in a tone he barely used.

But of course, directed to you, making your skin crawl in the overly air conditioned room.

Hands on his hips, as he takes a long breath, his head facing down as he hides his expression. “For an artist, you’re really shit at expressing your feelings.” He sighs, his bangs hiding whatever you could gather from him.

“Fine.” He concludes, looking up, his shoulders more relaxed. “I’ll stop bothering you about it, since you’re so sure.” He says throwing his arms out. “On one condition.”

You furrow your brows in confusion, wary of whatever condition he was gonna propose. Mingyu could be unpredictable when you pushed him, making the hair at the back of your neck stand.

“Draw me.” He says finally. He glances at the clock on the wall, “They still have that lunch break. So just draw me at least once, before everyone comes back.” He proposes, turning around to walk casually to the platform, as if he’s assuming you would just do it.

Is he serious? You weren’t even together anymore, and yet he wants a free commission from you? Thats crazy, like you’d ever —

“Fine.” You say curtly, “Since you’re so desperate for my attention anyways.” You quip, walking over to the supply table, making sure your shoes stomp against the hard floor. You swipe some spare paper, clipboard, and some charcoal.

The second you were at an art horse in front of Mingyu though, your fire waned slightly. The dead silence of the room was deafening, as you adjust your clipboard. The sound of the metal clips thumping against the paper, the feet of the art horse squeaking as you adjust sitting on the worn wood.

When you gaze up at Mingyu, it was obvious. He really was getting what he wanted, and it was your undivided attention.

Once ready, the charcoal in your hand, Mingyu sits down on the stool, eyes steady on you as he grips the already loose tie around his robe with his large hand. Letting it fall, as he exposes himself once more in the bright lights you set up yourself. He kicks the robe away off the platform, set on you drawing him like this.

You blink back any feelings that threaten to show on your face, readjusting the charcoal in your hand as you avoid Mingyu’s eyes, pressing down to finally start a line.

Its been a while since you last drew figures, and it usually took an hour of continuous drawing before you really found your pace in figure drawing sessions. But it was different this time.

Your heart beats in your ears, a silence of the room highlighting the sound of your charcoal smearing against the newsprint — the sounds of your breathing and of Mingyu’s, as time passes. Agonizingly slowly, yet a focus every artist aches for.

Your hand moves accordingly. Outlining the contour of his silhouette, the way his neck slopes, the soft lines that shape his abs he always was working on. Pressing for pressure with your charcoal as you indicate the weight of him sitting on the stool, hands in his laps loose as you capture his likeness with ease.

But the focus doesn’t last for long, especially when you flicker your eyes back to his. Already flicking a stroke to mimic his right eyelid, before you still. Pressing the tip of your charcoal into the paper, crumbling against the grain as you stare into his large brown eyes.

Fuck. What are you even doing?

Why are you drawing him so intently, when you vowed just a while ago that you never wanted to see Mingyu again?

Your breath hitches, as you raise your arm, flickering back to your drawing. Charcoal in the air, swinging to run a huge line through your figure of him, to smear it, to destroy it, to —

Your wrist stops mid air, as you feel a warm grip tightening around you. Eyes wide, you unfocus on the paper, to look up. Somehow in your tiny melt down Mingyu got down from the platform.

He looks down at you, eyebrows furrowed. Jaw tense, “You were just gonna ruin it, weren’t you?” He asks you quietly.

You can’t help but knit your brows, a pained expression forming that matches the one in his eyes.

The charcoal clatters out of your hand, landing on the floor in broken pieces.

Tears start welling in your eyes, your bottom lip trembling. “You’re right,” You start shakily, “I don’t know… how to address anything unless I’m drawing.” You say weakly.

Mingyu’s eyes soften slightly, swallowing hard as the bright lights highlight the contour of throat bobbing. “Yeah, seems like it.” He replies carefully. You expected him to use this as a told you so, maybe give you a smug smile, like, I knew you weren’t over me.

But Mingyu was never like that anyways. No matter how much he craved your attention, he also wanted your peace of mind. A hard thing to ask from an artist like you.

His grip on your wrist softens, as he kneels down, getting eye level with you as you still sit on the art horse. Holding your hand in his, rubbing a thumb over the veins on the back of your hand gently.

“I miss you.” You finally muster, your eyes focused on his.

“I miss you too.” He responds back, before cracking a small smile.

You strain your brows into a furrow, blinking back the warm tears you naturally formed from the vulnerable moment. A shaky huff also coming out of you, as you decide to lean forward.

Inching your face closer, until the tip of your noses brush, Mingyu stiffening slightly as you shyly graze your lips against his lips. A small breath escaping his lips, fanning over yours before you finally part them.

Your lips against his — it was like home. Finding your way back after such a tumultuous and useless road. The warmth of his lips seeping into you, Mingyu as relieved as you are. His hands finding its way to the sides of your face, pulling you impossibly closer.

It only escalates, as you open your mouth wider to push your tongue against his, making Mingyu groan out as he meets you with similar enthusiasm.

He pulls you forward, off the art horse. Taking you down to the ground, maneuvering you until your back is against the hard floor. Covering you with his large frame, his weight pressing down on you in ways you were having such a hard time admitting you missed.

It was fast, and albeit messy and rushed. Like trying to make up for wasted time as you pull him close, hands wrapped around the back of his neck as your lips go numb, your teeth clashing.

You let out a whine, when Mingyu pulls away with a heavy breath, fighting against your attempts to pull him back for a kiss.

“Y/n — fuck, can we?” He asks hurriedly, his voice breathless. A look of want in his big eyes, but there was also a little responsibility.

First of all — anyone could walk into the studio any second. There was only a lunch break, sure, an hour. But at least half of it has passed.

As you take your bottom lip under your teeth, chewing at your swollen lip as you think. And Mingyu knows exactly what look you were giving him, and he wasn’t going to reject you. Not now.

He leans back in, crashing his lips against yours in a sloppy kiss, breath hot against yours, before moving to your jaw. Leaving open mouthed rushed kisses down your neck, as you move your hands down his back. Feeling the muscles you were forcing yourself to look away from during the whole first half of class.

Touching Mingyu was way better than just drawing him from afar. You’re sure on that.

He moves his hand down, to push your midi skirt up, bunching the fabric to your hips. Your legs exposed to the cold air of the studio, as he wastes no time to slide your panties to the side. Already wet and damp from the heavy making out, and partially to the adrenaline of being in such a risky place.

“Damn, already?” He says, with a slight tease to his voice, making you pinch his arm. He lets out a pained chuckle, before placing his thick fingers against yours core, a gasp escaping your lips.

It helped that he knew you so well already, your legs squirming around the sides of him as he runs his fingers through yours wet folds, his thumb circling your clit as he inserts two fingers in, stretching you out as you gasp, Mingyu attacking your neck with messy kisses as he gets you ready for him.

“Fuck, Gyu,” You whine, your eyes rolling back in pleasure as he curls his fingers, hitting the spongy flesh that makes you arch your back off of the floor.

You weren’t the only one worked up, Mingyu being bare this entire time. His dick pressing up against the inner of your thigh, hardening at the sounds of your pleasure.

Your hand shoots down to grab hold of him, helping him get hard as he lets out a moan, as you tighten your grip. Pumping him a few times, lining him up to you as he removes his hand from your entrance.

You both let out soft gasps as you hold his dick to swipe against you, coating him in your arousal, his tip leaking with precum.

He doesn’t even ask, he just knows, as he pushes in, filling you inch by inch. The friction from your pulled to the side panties, to the tight warm walls of your pussy, making him feel lightheaded with pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re so tight baby,” He breathes, without even adjusting, he ruts into you roughly. Bottoming out as he knocks the wind out of you.

A whine escapes your throat, as you hold tightly around his shoulders, as Mingyu doesn’t slow his pace.

Its rough, its fast, and overall — desperate. The lewd sounds of flesh colliding echoing in the empty studio. Your mind going dumb at his fast pace, only focused on how he goes in, out. In, out.

The smell of his sweat, the way your hands run down his exposed body, all for you. He did this all for you. To get your attention, to get you back. God, does he even know how that makes you feel?

“Fuck, fuck,” He whines, burying his face into the crook of your neck. Already feeling a little fatigued from abusing your pussy so fast. But it was just too good, he missed it so much. So, so much. And he made it evident, as he pushes the back of your thighs higher to your chest, getting deep as he can. And fucking you like his life counted on it.

You feel the familiar build up of your orgasm, your walls tightening as you grip Mingyu’s shoulders. “Gyu, Gyu, I’m —“ You manage to choke out, as he moves his face from your neck to yours. Catching your cry with his mouth, drowning it as he kisses you messily.

You shudder, squirming under him as you feel the familiar high. Your body tingling with sensitivity and pleasure, as he overwhelms you with what can only be love.

He follows soon after, not being able to maintain his mouth to yours as he lets out a shaky grunt. Spilling inside you, his cum warm and filling, making your cheeks flush in contentment and relief.

He slows, stilling as you both catch your breaths. Pulling out of you with a reluctance. Pushing himself up, to lean back to sit. You follow as well, adjusting your skirt back as you push yourself up to your elbows.

Mingyu was a sight, as he always is. His tan skin glowing with a layer of sweat. The way his toned chest rises from catching his breath. The way his bangs are sticking to his forehead, his cheeks flushed with a rush of blood. A satisfied look on his face, as he sighs, licking his bottom lip as he looks at you.

You can’t help but smile, a warm one. As you gather yourself.

“Lets get you cleaned up before the second half. Where did you throw your robe?”

“Oh fuck. I don’t know. You got any other ones?”

[suzukiblu]

okay I SLIGHTLY dragged my ass writing/getting this up, it's been kind of A Day(tm), BUT: first day of the first February weekly WIP behind the cut; "the puzzle trap sex-room". content warnings: past grooming, past sexual abuse, past statutory rape, past dubious consent, CURRENT unhealthy coping mechanisms, immediate fallout of sex pollen/death trap-induced sexual coercion, and a POV character who does not understand what the problem with any of that is, he's FINE, Jesus, lay off already and let him live his life. So uh, you know, just Kon's . . . entire pre-YJ dating history, pretty much? Pretty much that, yeah. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Is the possibility of having given Robin an STI the only reason you can think of to be concerned about the events of the night?” Batman asks, perfectly neutral like another fucking trap–like he thinks Superboy’s the stupidest thing alive and gonna fucking fall for that again–and Superboy actually almost does disassemble this whole stupid cave. Or at least that huge-ass computer Batman’s got taking up half a wall over there or maybe some of those fancy Batsuits and all their utility belts full of souped-up gear, anyway. 

He’s real fuckin’ tempted to disassemble the Batmobile. 

Besides, if anyone gave–gave anyone a fucking STI, it was obviously the fucking prick who lied about not having fucking condoms on him. 

“I saved your fucking sidekick’s fucking life, asshole,” Superboy bites off roughly, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists. The muscles that try to tense under Superman’s grip can’t–not as much as normal, anyway. Superman’s grip is just–it’s not something Superboy can do anything about, and that is pissing him the fuck off right now. “You could at least pretend to be, I dunno, fuckin’ grateful instead of just being a dick about my goddamn personal life.” 

“You haven’t described your personal life,” Batman says in that same bullshit neutral tone. “Or your dating history, or anything similar. You’ve described predatory adult women taking advantage of their age and experience to manipulate and take advantage of you.” 

“Let the fuck go of me or I’m gonna fucking make somebody sorry about it,” Superboy says to Superman, his voice flatter than the goddamn floor. Like–very literally flatter, since some of the floor’s clearly kinda just hacked out of the rock. 

He is actually about to go fucking nuclear on this bullshit non-conversation where no one’s fucking listening to him. 

Getting fucking lectured is not, in fact, any kind of a conversation. 

And he’s not–like, what the fuck is this bullshit, where they’re pretending like they’re asking him things and all they’re actually doing is making fucking assumptions and twisting everything he does say and not even fucking listening to him! 

“Kid, we just–” Superman starts in that bullshit voice like he’s trying to sound concerned instead of ever fucking listening to him or, you know, letting him the fuck go, and well–Superboy fucking warned him, didn’t he. 

So he grabs every single piece of the Batmobile down to the absolute last, and then he rips it all apart all at once and drops it. 

Though once he’s done that, he just to rip apart a whole lot more. 

The Batmobile collapses every which way and all its parts and pieces hit the floor in a massive cacophony of clattering and crashing and Robin jerks in alarm, whipping his head towards the pieces of it as they scatter across the floor. Superman startles a little too, and Superboy’s still not done being fucking pissed, actually, so he just–he still wants to rip apart this whole fucking cave and everything in it and just–just rip it apart, just–just–

“Let me go, you fucking prick,” he hisses up at Superman. “You have literally never cared before and I don’t give a fuck about your opinion about who I’m fucking anyway!” 

“Superboy,” Robin interjects carefully as he glances back towards them–fucking carefully, like he thinks Superboy’s somebody who needs handled carefully, who can’t handle his own shit, the patronizing piece of–“You did describe crimes. Legally, like . . . at least a couple of those situations are crimes.” 

Of course that’s what the asshole decides to fucking speak up about, Superboy thinks as a spike of fury stabs into his gut. 

[witchyliterature]

GOOD AND PLENTY: K.B

witchy tip

➤ eating pomegranate with strong magical intentions in mind can help manifest what you want

18. difficile ad amorem

m.list

breakfast has been set and katsuki did not come to play. your dad assumed by his rush to do the breakfast that he was definitely good - but as soon as he took the first bite, he rushed to finish it.

hell, katsuki surely was husband material, he might keep this love spell just to allow himself to get some good food.

you yourself was no better, the sounds of you gobbling up the food was the only thing heard from you. your eyes had a narrow focus, which was the breakfast in front of you and only that.

“katsuki bakugou, please marry my daughter if you would like!” your dad’s muffled voice was barely registrable.

“what?! don’t go making statements like that!” you exclaimed, your voice equally as muffled as you both stuffed your mouthy to the fullest capacity.

“that’s the plan, sir” katsuki smirked, outting his hand in his sweatpant pockets.

you instantly looked at him shocked. with how awkward the morning was, you assumed that he wouldn’t even look at you as your dad made that comment. clearly, the love spell is still at work.

“anyways, let me get started on your situationship, then i can continue to eat well!” your dad chuckled as you groaned in embarrassment, your dad and you only met yet he was already as cringe as a dad could be.

“alright, sit down in front of my katsuki.” your dad asked softly, to which katsuki confusingly followed.

your dad looked into his eyes, it was a whirlpool between pink and red. his eyes flickered, would then return to normal, only to flicker again in a quick repetition.

“right, i’m going to do something first to check what the hells going on with his eyes.” your dad muttered, to which you nodded vigorously.

your dad put his hands on katsuki’s head, muttering things in latin and before you knew it, katsuki passed out with a projection of his soul coming out of his body, his resting face was a scowl so you knew this was the orginal katsuki.

“y/n l/n, i am going to fucking murder you when i get back. i swear, ill make you suffer.” katsuki’s soul seethed as he turned to face you.

“shit, katsuki, im so sorry! i really-“

“you fucking embarrassed me for weeks! everyone sees me as this stupid lover boy that’s obsessed over you.” katsuki’s seethed yelled back, his voice having a slight echo.

“oh get over yourself katsuki’s, is being seen in love with me that torturous for you?” you rolled your eyes.

“that’s not the fucking issue and you know it.” katsuki’s angrily replied.

you looked at him skeptically, was that a confession? or did he simply mean he doesn’t care that much about what other people think about you two? either way sounds to have romantic connotations.

“then what is?” you asked.

“the fact- you know what, fuck this. get me out and lemme talk to her fact to face, old man.” katsuki looked at your dad as he responded.

“old man is crazy considering im your crushes father but whatever.” you father muttered immaturely.

katsuki looked slightly flustered as he said that, turning to face you and see your reaction only to still look skeptical.

your father then sent his soul into his body and started the ritual through putting a glass charm of a heart onto katsuki’s chest and hovering his hands while a soft glow emmitted from it.

“this doesn’t usually happen you know, once you do a love spell, that’s it, it cannot be broken unless powerful mages or the person itself have the power to stop it.” your dad explained.

“then why does-“

“because, for some reason, his soul and body rejected it. i don’t know how it worked, he clearly already had feelings for you, otherwise the spell wouldn’t have worked so quickly and so powerfully, but his soul was constantly fighting the spell. his spirit was simply too strong compared to the dosage you gave him, and trust me, i can sense that it was a lot.” you dad further explained.

you looked at him and started to understand. katsuki has always been a fighter, it makes sense that his spirit too also wanted to fight.

but, this whole thing about feelings. you knew he had them for you beforehand. you’re just so confused why he never told you? why he flirted with that second year that practically started it all? why he always seemed to make you a second choice?

the sound of a crack broke you out of your thoughts, you looked and saw that heart chart was broken - indicating that the love spell was broken.

katsuki’s eyes fluttered awake, he started to wake up as small groans escaped his lips. with his true soul being dormant for a while, it felt weird finally seeing things with his own eyes rather than was felt like to be a glass mirror.

“katsuki..” you said softly, getting up to walk up to him.

“fuck, i- i need to go for a drive.” katsuki suddenly spoke, his nerves for some reason shot through the roof, and so he sped to the hallway, grabbed his keys and immediately left.

you called out for him, but he has no response, marching his way to his car and driving off quickly.

“leave him, he will come back, don’t worry.” you father advised you.

you sighed, you knew he would, katsuki never left forever. but it sucked that the first time in a while you were seeing him again, he did what he always did and ran from his emotions.

you just hoped that when he came back, a different song would play for you two.

[utopiastri]

Put That Guy in a SituationTM - look something about Landoscar in a 20/32 type situation has me hooked….trying to not let others on to their predicament, maybe it’s a bit embarrassing how it happened 🤔

hi anon!!! thank you for the prompt! i went a smidge away from my usual cutesy fluff for this one - your suggestion of embarrassment really sparked something in my brain, even if i took it in a slightly different direction. i hope you enjoy!!!

(prompt list here)

“Look, we just gotta act natural,” Lando says.

Or, well, Lando-as-Oscar says, because it sounds like Oscar’s voice and it’s Oscar’s mouth that’s moving, but it’s Lando that’s actually saying the words and–

Lando-in-Oscar’s-body huffs. “You’re having a crisis again aren’t you?”

“You know it’s weirder of you to be 100% ok with this.”

“It’s a body swap curse, mate, it’s not rocket science.”

Oscar runs a hand through his hair and cringes at the uncanny feeling of there being someone else’s hair on top of his head. “I understand the concept, Lando, what I’m struggling with is everything else related to it like, I don't know, how the fuck this happened."

“I don’t know. Do you reckon we need to have sex to break the curse?”

“What?” Oscar squawks, “Why would we need to have sex to break the curse?”

Lando flushes. “I dunno. Just felt like the right solution.”

“Based on what?”

Lando mumbles something about seeing it online once and Oscar chooses to ask no more follow-up questions lest Lando tells him he learnt about it from some random porn he watched once. He heaves a sigh.

“Listen, like you said, we should just act normal. This whole thing is,” Oscar pauses to search for the right word, “Strange. And I’d really rather not bring anyone else into it to begin with.”

“Agreed,” Lando says before adding, “Hey, if we’re still like this for the race tomorrow and I win but in your body, does that mean you get the points?” Oscar glares at him and Lando pouts. “It’s a genuine question!” he whines.

Oscar’s about to point out they have bigger things to focus on than the effects of this on a race when Jon sticks his head into the room.

“Debrief in five, guys.”

“Sounds good, mate,” Lando says, in an accent no human being has ever used before.

Jon blinks at him. He turns to look at Oscar. Or, rather, he turns to look at Oscar who he thinks is Lando. Oscar smiles weakly.

“He’s, uh, trying to do an impression of me doing an Australian impression," Oscar lies, hoping it sounds vaguely believable.

“Oi!” Lando says, “My Australian accent’s mint.”

“Yes, Oscar,” Oscar says pointedly, “Your Australian accent would be mint because you are from Australia.”

Lando's eyes light up in realisation and he starts nodding furiously. “Right, yep, what he said, exactly.”

Jon blinks at both of them this time. He sighs.

“If you two are doing roleplay, I don’t want to hear about it.” Lando and Oscar both start spluttering, but Jon keeps on talking over both of them. “Just be on time for debrief.”

With Jon gone, Oscar breathes a sigh of relief. Or he starts to, until Lando pipes up.

“I still reckon us having sex will fix it.”

Oscar reminds himself that if he kills Lando right now, he’s possibly going to do irreparable damage to his own body.

The thought’s still tempting.

“Is there a particular reason you’re so desperate to have sex with yourself?” he asks, eyebrow raised.

Lando clearly wasn't expecting that question because he freezes. Oscar’s always hated how easily he flushes but right now, watching it brutally incriminate Lando, he can’t help but be grateful for it.

“I’m not fucking desperate to have sex with myself.” He doesn't sound like he's lying, but the blush on his face suggests he's not telling the whole truth.

Maybe…

His eyebrows raise. “So you’re only desperate to have sex with me then?”

Lando looks up at Oscar, eyes wide. He swallows.

Got you, Oscar thinks to himself.

[marvelavengerspovs1]

Chapter 1- Malign

Pairing: Bucky x F!reader

Warnings: Lots and lots of angst (sorry but not sorry), very toxic behaviours from both Bucky and Reader, 18+ MDNI

Length: 1.2k

Summary: You and Bucky are going through a rough patch. Is it something worth fixing?

A/N: Ok, so this has been an idea that I’ve been playing with for a few days so I decided to try it out. This is completely different from what I normally do. I plan to make this a mini-series, about 3-5 parts. I’d like to think this is Bucky after trying to acclimate back into a more “normal” life because let’s be honest, he’s a man with PTSD and lost a good chunk of his life. I was listening to The Black Dog and The Prophecy while writing this so it’s more angsty than I imagined.

You wake up cold, noticing an absence beside you. Part of you wants to stay in bed, not wanting to look for him. But the other part, the part that chooses to ignore the past few months, wants to. After about thirty seconds of debating, the latter wins.

You get out of bed and leave your bedroom. You find Bucky in the living room nursing a bottle of whiskey and Asgardian liquor, blankly staring at the wall. You let out a frustrated sigh and he looks up at you.

“Hey,” You say softly, trying to hide your true emotions.

He rolls his eyes and puts the bottle down on the coffee table. “What do you want?

You frown. “Never mind.”

Bucky rolls his eyes again. “Why are you giving me this ‘never mind’ bullshit?”

“You clearly don’t want to be bothered right now, so I’m going back to bed.”

You turn around and start to walk back to your shared bedroom. “Doll, wait.”

You pause and he gets up from the couch, moving in front of you. You both sit in silence before you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Yes?”

“Why do you think you’re bothering me?”

You let out a scoff and shake your head. “I don’t know, maybe because you rolled your eyes and asked me, ‘what do you want’?”

Bucky lets out a frustrated groan. “You’re taking it the wrong way.”

“How am I supposed to take it, Bucky? Because to me, it sounds like you’re already pissed at me.”

Bucky looks down at you with a grumpy expression. “I’m already pissed at other stuff, it’s not you.”

“Well I’m still going to bed, I don’t want to be around you when you’re like this.”

“Why are you like this?” He mutters and rolls his eyes once more.

“Why do I have to be like this? That’s really funny coming from you.” 

“You always take things the wrong way.”

“You wanted space, I’m giving you space.” You finally decided to walk around him.

“I never said I wanted space!” He calls after you before deciding to follow you to your bedroom.

“Well you clearly are not in the mood to be around me so I’m removing myself from the situation.” You feel your throat tighten.

The past few months have been like this. It started off with small arguments like leaving a dish in the sink for a while, to making everything a fight. You don’t know what’s changed between the two of you. You both were like a well oiled machine, you both knowing what the other needed. But recently, you both were out of sync.

“Why do you always do this? Don’t walk away while we’re talking.” Bucky grabs your arm.

His grip is firm but not hard enough to hurt you. You jump and turn around, your eyes watering so much that a tear slips out.

“Let go.” Bucky immediately drops your arm.

“Why are you crying?” He asks gently.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because my boyfriend is in one of his moods?” You wipe your tears.

“This is so you,” Bucky lets out a scoff. “I told you it’s not about you. Not everything is about you.”

You feel a searing heat in your chest. “If that’s how you feel.”

You turn around and close the door, locking it behind you. Bucky stares at the door for a minute with his eyes widened. He pounds on the door.

He calls your name. “Open the door.”

You pull out a bag. “No.”

He calls your name again. “Open the damn door!”

“I’m not staying in the same room as you.” You pack some clothes and continue to wipe your tears.

“Just open the door!” You finally listen to him.

“You have two options, you either find somewhere else to sleep or I leave.”

“You can’t kick me out of our apartment.” He furrows his eyebrows.

You bring the bag over your shoulder. “Fine, I’m leaving then.”

Bucky’s eyes widen, noticing the bag finally. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I don’t know, maybe with Wanda or Natasha.”

Bucky steps in front of you. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re going to stay here, in our room.” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Then where are you going?”

“Why do I have to go somewhere? I didn’t do anything.”

“If you can’t see this clearly, then I can’t sleep under the same roof as you. Whether you like it or not, I’m not staying here tonight.”

“Please, don’t go Doll.” Bucky pleads as a last attempt.

“I can’t be in the same room as you right now.” You walk around him.

“Why are you being so damn difficult? You don’t need to run to Wanda or Natasha.”

“We can talk about this tomorrow. Once you’re not drunk.” You leave the room and head down the hall to the front door.

Bucky follows you out, going back to his spot on the couch. He takes a swig of the whiskey.

“Go, see if I care.” He scowls.

You falter in your steps for a moment. “Go to bed Bucky.”

You walk out of the front door, feeling Bucky’s glare. Bucky stares at the door for a moment before throwing the empty whiskey glass at the wall.

You hear the crash and turn to open the door. You stand there for a moment, your hand on the door knob debating on going back inside. You know Bucky, this isn’t who he is. But you can’t go back in. You turn around and make your way to Natasha’s.

Natasha’s apartment isn’t far from your apartment that you share with Bucky. You get there within 5 minutes and knock on her door.

Natasha opens the door, her eyebrows pulled together. “What are you doing here?”

You let yourself cry. “Can I stay here tonight?”

Natasha opens the door wider, ushering you in. “Of course, Babe.”

A few minutes later, you’re crying on the couch with a hot cup of cocoa. “I just don’t know where it all went wrong. It felt as if everything was going well, and now all we do is fight. I didn’t even want to look for him when I woke up.”

Natasha rubs your arm soothingly. “I understand. Bucky has a lot of baggage.”

“I don’t care about that.”

And it’s true. You know his past, his current nightmares, how he became who he is. It didn’t bother you because Bucky seemed to be improving.

“It feels like he’s going backwards. And…” You take a deep breath. “I don’t know if I want to stay around for that.”

Natasha nods her head. “No one would blame you if you wanted to take some time for yourself. Whether it’s a short break or a permanent one. But before you decide, maybe you need to sleep on it too.”

You nod. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

Natasha takes the almost empty mug from your hands and places it on her coffee table. “You know you can stay here as long as you want, right?”

You nod again. “Yes, thank you Nat. Really, for everything.”

Natasha hugs you. “No need to thank me. Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

You follow Natasha to the guest room. You get into bed, thinking about everything. Do you want to break up with Bucky?

Temporarily?

Permanently?

[hannahssimblr]

The next day, I find myself there again, following the path from the beach to the wellness centre, through the hallways and to the back of the room. The guru, again, saying his bit about the present moment, and me, cross-legged at the back of the room, trying to observe it. 

My breath, my legs, my arms, my face, determined to focus, but unfocussing anyway, mind whipping away, spiralling, pirouetting like paper on the wind. This time, I stay twenty-three minutes, and then spend the day exploring. Afternoon, I eat a bowl of noodles in a restaurant without a top on, bare feet blackened from dirty floors. 

I meet an Irish tourist there, a freckled faced girl, thick, rural accent, says she’s from Tullamore.

“Tullamore,” I echo, stomach flipping. “I know some people from there.” And give her the short list, Shane and Kelly Healy, Claire O’Gorman, tacking Evie Kilbride to the end, a desperate plea for intel disguised as afterthought.

“Don’t know an Evie, but my sister’s friend went out with a fella called Declan Kilbride before. Could be some relation.”

“No, I dunno. You don’t know her, it’s fine.” I could go on about her, this girl I knew for a while. Evie, from Tullamore, like you are. I’ve a girlfriend now, though, Danish girl, and I’m in love with her. Sometimes, though, I imagine what could have been if I had acted differently last autumn. Not that I regret it, I just wonder. It’s probably normal to visualise other avenues sometimes, the road untraveled, don’t you think? Veronica? Is that what you said your name was? Do you think I’m normal? Do I seem normal to you?

She clearly doesn’t. I’m shirtless and shoeless at a noodle restaurant, bits of sunburnt skin peeling from the bridge of my nose, long, knotted hair like some kind of beach hobo wandered into civilisation. I act aloof until she goes away, leaving me to finish my meal. Then, aimlessly once again, I wander the island until sundown. 

On the third day, the meditators greet me. 

“You’re the little dude that keeps leaving before the end,” one says, and I respond with a sheepish smile. “Well, I’m back for another crack at it.” 

Jonas is with me today, colour back in his cheeks, fresh from his morning shower, fed and hydrated. This time, because of peer pressure, I stay until the end of the session, though with no improvement. Thoughts seeming louder, somehow, like rubber balls bouncing around the inside of my skull for the duration of the session. 

The fourth day, we join an evening session on the beach, the sand slowly cooling around us as the ocean shimmers crimson under the setting sun. There, it is easier to immerse myself in the present, the breeze, the birds, the waves whispering through pebbles on the shore, nevertheless, every sound reminds me of something else, the past reaching out and holding my face, forcing me to look at it. I sit in place long after the others have left, staring, unseeing, at the horizon. 

“Was it better today?” Jonas says, so quiet my by side prior to speaking, I assumed he had nodded off. 

“No, I’m still bad at it. I’m still thinking all the time.”

“You don’t need to keep coming back if you don’t want it. If it is annoying you, or you are not getting anything from it, then you can simply stop.”

“Hm. I like the idea of not thinking.”

He nods. “A quiet mind.”

“Yeah, exactly. I think it’s annoying me, meditation, like, because I’ve realised how absolutely batshit wild my head is. I’m always just… thinking about things.”

“That’s probably most people.”

“Most, but not all. I want to be part of the few that can control it.”

He makes a noncommittal sound and stretches out on the sand. Foliage lining the shore rustles in the balmy wind, and little grains of sand lift, sprinkling over my bare feet. What a beautiful place. Heart stopping, breath stealing beauty, with those mystical rocks rising steeply from the sea, and yet I’ve found myself in a mood since we touched down. Distracted, restless, unhappy. I express this to Jonas, the frustration, my near certainty I am immune to good feelings and enjoyment. 

“You always seem like that,” he points out. “Not just this week.”

“Oh.”

“You’re the most haunted man I know.”

Self-conscious, now, I rake up a handful of sand and squeeze it, focussing on the rushing sensation through my fist to avoid seeming too interested in his opinion of me. “Oh, am I? How do you mean?”

“Ever since we met, you have seemed troubled. I thought maybe you were feeling unsteady after moving, but you still seem that way. I hope it is okay to say that.”

“It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

“I used to try to ask you about yourself, in case you needed to talk about it, but you never wanted to share, so I stopped.”

“Yeah, that was a weird time for me, back then, to be honest with you.”

He pauses a while, then encourages me with a cautious “yeah?”

“It’s weird, because I thought I was fine about it now, and I am fine about it, but something about being on my own so much this month has me feeling like I’m back there a bit. I’m, like, saddled with all that old shit again. And the summer and the sea and...” I trail off, gesturing lamely towards the ocean, as though it means something to him.

“What is it about?”

A sigh, or a laugh, or some combination at the ridiculousness of what I am about to admit. Something he could have guessed, and I’m sure he’ll think is quintessentially me.

“A girl,” I say. “There was this girl in Ireland.”

Jonas is quiet. I feel his eyes on me, but don’t meet them. I grab more handfuls of sand to soothe myself. “It was so weird though, because we–she wasn’t my girlfriend or anything. She was just this girl I liked. And maybe–if I hadn’t moved to Berlin. We… I…” Breaking off, embittered. “Doesn’t matter, though. I have Astrid now.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t make feelings about other people go away like magic.”

“It’s not… I don’t love this girl anymore. I don’t even know if I did to begin with, but it’s like she’s always there somewhere in my head, like some ghost not knowing it's dead, not moving on. It bothers me not knowing what could have been.”

“You think you would be together if things were different?”

“If I wasn’t an idiot, maybe, but maybe not. We were in different places in our lives, and she was really young. A year and a half younger than me, which is whatever, but she was young in a different way. Like, she was all having fights with her friends and stressing out about random drama and what things people were saying to each other. Things for me were already so much different than that. She was fun, though. It was easy.”

“Yeah?”

“Man, she was so funny. She made me laugh all the time. She used to come out with all these things, like awkward things she’d done or various thoughts she was having throughout the day, and they were always batshit thoughts, like, not at all normal things. Hilarious. And she'd ask me after, all embarrassed of herself, if it was normal, and I'd burst out laughing and tell her honestly, like, no. And the way she’d say this stuff. Like she knew it was fucking weird, and it was, but it was what I liked most about her. She felt like she could share it with me. I dunno who else she talked to in that way.” I hesitate. “She also, um, liked me a lot. Sometimes I think that maybe that’s the reason I spent so much time with her. Like, I craved the attention, or something, but that makes me feel like I’m actually horrible, so.”

“It’s nice to be liked.”

“Yeah. She obviously thought I was great, and stuff. She laughed really loud at everything I said, and was always agreeing with my opinions, telling me I was right, which I loved. In hindsight, it makes me think I’m awful. I'm thinking maybe all this is me grappling with the guilt.”

Jonas makes a thoughtful sound, and when I glance at him, he’s looking not at me, but out to sea. The final apricot streaks in the sky tossing a slash of light over his cheek. “Maybe you don’t really miss her, but the way she made you feel, and the person you were back then.”

“Oh.”

“What?”

“That was awfully profound.”

He chuckles. “I’m happy I could offer some insight. Maybe you are apart for the best, you and this girl… What is her name?”

“Evie.”

“Evie. I imagine that being with her would have meant giving up some part of your life. Maybe not moving, or trapping you both in a long distance relationship.”

I shudder. “Yeah. That was my justification. But I guess now I see the fuller picture, too. I don’t think we would have worked long term, in terms of what we both needed from each other.”

“You are talking about sex now.”

“Basically.”

“You didn’t do it with her.”

“No. One time, almost. I knew I could have, but it was obviously not the right moment. Like, she was definitely– Um. I was planning to move away and just leave her there, anyway, so. It’s weird, though, to have all these feelings about someone I never had sex with, when I've done more with others and felt less.”

“You haven’t seen her since you moved away?”

“No.”

“Maybe if you do, you’ll feel differently about her, then. Sometimes, for me at least, I realise my mind has created a story about another person that isn’t true. Like somebody I'm certain I don't like, but I meet them and remember that they are perfectly pleasant.”

“God, wouldn’t it be weird if I saw her again?” I muse. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’d see her and be like ‘oh, she’s actually just some girl.’”

He shrugs. “Maybe she is, as you say, some girl. Perhaps she simply represents something to you, and reality will disappoint you.”

The prospect of this is devastating and freeing in equal amounts. Evie, an invention. An ordinary girl I projected my hopes and dreams upon. Easier to let go of, in that case. Less a real girl than a mirage.

I imagine for a moment, somewhere in the distant future, running into her at some fictional supermarket. I’m picking up some lemons. She’s got a baguette in her bag, and we smile and exchange pleasantries. She’s doing well. Steady job, bought a house last year. I’ll search her left hand for a ring and find one. A strange feeling to see it, to imagine who the someone-else might be. Though I’m married, too. A baby on the way. “I always thought you’d be a good dad,” she’ll say, and I’ll nod and say yes, I kind of always imagined a family. We’ll talk for a minute, pleasant, but brief. Her, a strange woman, and I, a strange man. Knew each other once, a long time ago, teenagers on the Wexford coast, a summer that tasted of sea salt and ice cream, so long ago now we can barely remember it. Memories bleached and faded like old photographs by a sunlit window. “Goodbye, now,” I will say at the checkout, and I will go out onto the street, and never see her again. It won’t matter, for I no longer focus on the past. Barely think of it, never dwell. Enjoying, at last, and concerned only with the present. Content with all the things I already have, and never again cursed to wish, yearn, want for anything more.

Beginning // Prev // Next

[tinydefector]

Behind the Scenes 5- DC

Tim Drake x Male reader

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: classic Tim being obsessed over unknowns.

Masterlist

Prev

Next

______________

The Wayne Manor was unusually quiet for a Saturday morning, save for the occasional sound of footsteps and the faint clinking of dishes from the kitchen. Tim sat in the library, his laptop open on the table in front of him, several tabs pulled up as he combed through every scrap of information he could find on Sarah, the nursery, and, most frustratingly, Y/N.  

He was so engrossed in his search that he didn’t notice the faint creak of the door opening behind him.  “You’re doing that thing again,” came Duke’s voice, breaking the silence making Tim jolt slightly, looking up from his screen. As Duke leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed and a curious grin on his face.  

“What thing?”  a frown slowly creased its way onto his lips as he stared Duke down. “You know,” Duke snickers, walking into the room and dropping into a chair across from him. “The thing where you get all hyper-fixated on something and start acting like a conspiracy theorist. You’re, like, two coffee cups away from turning this into a full-on crime board with red string.”  

Tim rolled his eyes. “It’s not a conspiracy. I’m just... looking into something.”  

“Uh-huh,” Duke said, leaning forward to peer at the laptop screen. “So what’s got you all worked up this time? Serial killer? Corporate espionage? Secret society trying to take over Gotham again?” Tim hesitated for a moment, weighing whether or not to bring Duke into this. But before he could respond, another voice chimed in.  

“Tim’s got a new obsession?” Dick sauntered into the room, his usual grin plastered across his face. He flopped onto the couch, resting his feet on the coffee table despite Tim’s glare and groaning over not wanting to have everyone snooping in his business and his mini case.  

“I don’t have an obsession,” Tim said flatly.“You totally do,” Duke said, smirking. “He’s been glued to that laptop since breakfast. And judging by the way he muttered, ‘Why would she bury that recording?’ earlier, I’m guessing it’s something juicy.”  

Dick perked up at that, his grin widening,  eagerly trying to look over Tims shoulder to see what sort of case he had been working on or piecing together “Ooh, now I’m interested. Spill, Sherlock.”  

“It’s nothing,” Tim said quickly, closing one of his tabs. “Just... something weird I noticed at the nursery Alfred and I went to yesterday.” Dick raised an eyebrow, before shooting Duke a look. “a nursery? the one Alfred dragged you to?”  

“Yeah,” Tim muttered, clearly reluctant to elaborate. Duke and Dick exchanged a look before and then Duke is leaning forward with a smile as his eyes dance across the screen trying to catch snippets of what he can read. “Okay, now you have to tell us. What’s so weird about a nursery?”  

Tim knew he wasn't getting out of this, he wasn't the only detective in the family and knowing his luck one of them would figure something out if they didn't just blatantly ask Barbara to hack his computer. He lets out a reluctant sigh, realizing he wasn’t going to get out of this. “Fine. There’s this guy who works there—Y/N. He’s... not normal.”  

“Not normal how?” Dick asked, his curiosity clearly piqued.  

Tim hesitated again, trying to figure out how to explain without sounding insane. “meta, has a way animals and plants react to him like nature takes to him. It normally wouldn't be a problem except this is me, I get a weird feeling while there, he's what’s making my detective instincts go off so i dig a bit And then there’s this video of him and Ivy...”  

That got their attention. “Wait, Poison Ivy?” Duke asked, sitting up straighter. “What kind of video?” Tim opened his saved files scrolling through until he found it, pulling up the grainy footage he’d found the night before. He hit play, and the three of them watched as Y/N and Ivy stared each other down, the crow perched on Y/N’s shoulder shifting uneasily while the plants around Ivy swayed in her presence.  

No one said a word as the clip played out, showing Ivy turning and leaving without so much as a word, while Y/N remained frozen in place. When the video ended, Dick let out a low whistle. “Okay, that is weird. Like not as weird as I was expecting but more so the fact that Ivy just straight up turned around and walked off ”  

“Exactly,” Tim said, gesturing at the screen. “Ivy doesn’t just back down like that. Not unless there’s a good reason. And then she never went back to the nursery again. Ever.” Duke frowned, leaning closer to the screen. “What’s the deal with the crow? It’s just... sitting there, like it’s his pet or something.”  

“That’s the thing,” Tim said, pulling up another clip from the security footage. This one showed Y/N walking through the nursery, with the same crow trailing after him. “Animals act weird around him. They follow him around, leave him little trinkets... it’s like they’re drawn to him.” Dick leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he watched the second clip. “So he's a nature based Meta?, i mean it's not the first time we have had run in’s with them, but he doesn't seem hostile. So why is he on your radar?”  

“I don’t know,” Tim admitted. “He's just… his file seems to be clean, No criminal record, no connection to Ivy or anyone else in Gotham’s rogue gallery. He’s just a guy who works at a nursery.” Tim really doesn't know why he was so fixated, but after the rumours of Ivy having an apprentice and then Y/n, it couldn't be a coincidence. 

“And yet,” Duke said, pointing at the screen, “Ivy looked at him like she’d seen a ghost. That’s not nothing.” “Exactly,” Tim said, running a hand through his hair. “There’s something going on with him. I just don’t know what it is yet, i'm trying to find information, whether he's involved with Ivy somehow, and well i've heard she has an apprentice, and him showing up”  

Dick leaned back, his expression thoughtful. “You think he's involved?”  

“like 73%, there is a probability that he isn't but with everything so far, i just need to see if there is anything else with him and Ivy, because it may, may have been a fluke of two people with nature based abilities having a stare down, but even that probability is extremely low” Tim said. “Interesting,” Dick said, tapping his chin. “So what’s your next move, Detective Drake?”  

Tim rolled his eyes in annoyance. “I don’t have a ‘next move.’ I’m just... keeping an eye on things for now. He hasn't caused any chaos that im aware of, so i'm just observing ”  

Duke snorted, trying to cover up a cackle. “Yeah, right. You’re already planning to go back there, aren’t you?”  

“I—” Tim paused, realizing they weren’t wrong. “Classic Tim. You get a mystery in your head, and you can’t let it go. You’re gonna end up camped out in the nursery parking lot with binoculars, aren’t you?, mightstart calling you Inspector gadget again”  

Tim huffed, closing his laptop. “Whatever. You guys don’t get it. There’s something weird going on with Ivy, and I’m going to figure out what it is. And so far everything is pointing towards Y/n”  

“Sure, sure,” Duke said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “But hey, let us know when you crack the case. This is way more interesting than patrol. I happen to enjoy when you get yourself wrapped in an obsessive state over a case”  Tim glared at him and if a look could freeze Duke it would have, but Dick just laughed, clapping him on the shoulder as he stood up. “Don’t work yourself into a frenzy, Tim. You’ll figure it out. You always do.”  

“You’re not taking this seriously.”  “Oh, we are,” Duke said, holding up a hand. “It’s just more fun to watch you spiral.”  

“I’m not spiraling!”  Tim hissed out in defence. “You are definitely spiraling,” Dick said with a chuckle. “But hey, I get it. Weird guy, weird vibes, weird encounter with Ivy—it’s a classic Gotham mystery. I’d be curious too.” Tim groaned, slumping back in his seat. 

Before anyone could say more, the subtle sound of footsteps caught their attention.  Cass walked into the room, her dark eyes scanning the scene in front of her. She tilted her head, clearly intrigued by the animated discussion.

What are you talking about?

she signs, it takes her a moment to make sure she had signed it right. And took Duke and Dick a bit longer to translate it than it did Tim. 

 

The three boys exchanged a look, and then Duke grinned. “Oh, Cass, you’re gonna love this. Tim’s got a new mystery guy.” Cass blinked, her gaze shifting to Tim. “Not like that!,” Tim said quickly, his face flustering pink as he elbows Duke. “It’s not a thing. It’s just... There's this guy at the nursery Alfred took me to. He’s… a meta who has similar abilities to Ivy.”  

Cass raised an eyebrow and sat down on the armrest of the couch near Tim, silently encouraging him to continue. “Okay, so there’s this guy, Y/N, who works at the nursery. Animals and plants act weird around him, like they’re drawn to him. And the footage I found shows him having some kind of... standoff with Poison Ivy. She didn’t attack him. She didn’t even say anything. She just... left.”  

Cass frowned slightly, her expression thoughtful.

Not normal?

she signs simply. “Exactly!” Tim said, gesturing at her like she’d just proved his point. “Show her the video,” Duke said, nodding toward the laptop.  

Tim hesitated for a moment, then pulled up the footage again and turned the screen to face her. Cass leaned in, watching closely as the grainy video played out. Her sharp eyes followed every detail. Y/N standing frozen, the crow on his shoulder shifting restlessly, Ivy’s calm but deliberate retreat. When the clip ended, Cass sat back, her brow furrowed. Her finger moves to point towards his neck and cheek.

Leaves?   

Cass pointed at the screen. “Y/N. He’s nervous, but... not afraid. Not of her.” Her voice is rather quiet and slightly raspy as she talks, making an uncomfortable face as she analyses the young man. “Calm. Like... he belongs.” she continues. “Belongs?” Tim repeated, his frown deepening. “What do you mean by that?”  

Cass gestured vaguely toward the screen. “Plants. Animals. They like him. Trust him. He doesn’t force it. It’s... natural. like..”  She's trying to find the right word but can't. “zїna biando ” Dick mutters his accent coming out for a moment. Making everyone look at him. “You said there were little leaves and vine patterns On his skin, can you zoom in enough on them?” he asked rather fascinated, he hadn't heard stories of the Fae born since he was a child. 

The room fell silent for a moment as everyone processed what Dick had said. The image is blurry but they can all make out the very fine line little leaves that seem to pulse under Y/n's skin, they look like little fine leaf ferns or something akin to them. 

“ he’s not controlling them,” Dick said slowly. “It’s more like... they’re drawn to him because of what he is. My Daj used to tell me stories about the fairies when I was little, about how they used to steal babies away when they were small and replace them. Used to scare me shitless as a kid”  

Duke let out a low whistle. “Okay, that’s... kind of cool. Still weird, but cool.” Tim, however, wasn’t satisfied. “That still doesn’t explain why Ivy backed off,” he said, staring at the screen. “She doesn’t care about people who are meta She only cares about plants. If she left him alone, it’s because she saw something in him. Something that made her think he wasn’t a threat—or maybe she was afraid of him.”  

“Maybe he isn't a meta, Dick did just say he reminded him of fairies, and I know for a fact they aren't cute little winged creatures that fly around granting wishes. Ever think he might be something outside of the normal ” Duke said, while shooting Dick a look of ‘you said it not me’  

“Or,” Dick said with a grin, “maybe he’s secretly her long-lost nephew.”  and that just makes Tim groan. “You’re not helping. One moment you're saying he's an ancient being and the next that he's her nephew you're impossible you know that.”  

Cass nodded. “But don’t push too hard,” she added, her expression softening. “If he’s hiding, there’s a reason.” Tim considered her words, then nodded slowly, he trusted Cass’ advice more than a lot of other people's. She was good at reading people and understanding them from just a glimpse. “Alright. I’ll keep digging, but... carefully.”  “Good,” Cass said, a small smile tugging at her lips.  

Duke grinned. “Man, this is shaping up to be way better than I thought. Let me know if you find anything juicy, Tim.” Dick chuckled, standing up and stretching. “Yeah, keep us updated on your new favorite mystery guy. But i'm probably going to head, i want to try and make it back to Blüdhaven before the midday rush, I'll catch you all next week, oh Jason's also organising for an arcade night next Saturday”  

Tim turned back to his laptop, her words echoing in his mind. Whatever Y/N was hiding, Tim was more determined than ever to find out. But now, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Cass might be right whatever the truth was, it wasn’t going to be simple.

—----

The quiet hum of Y/N’s voice filled the small apartment as he moved from plant to plant, watering can in hand. The soft golden light of the morning poured in through the window, illuminating the small jungle he’d created on his windowsill. Each plant looked healthier than it had any right to leaves vibrant, stems strong, buds ready to bloom.  

Out on the balcony railing, the crow that frequently visited him sat fluffed up, the soft clicks and occasional caws breaking the otherwise peaceful silence as it fiddled with the toys and treats stuck in them. 

“You guys are looking better,” Y/N murmured, brushing his fingers lightly over the leaves of a small, struggling fern. His touch was gentle, as if he were afraid of hurting the delicate greenery. “Knew you just needed a little love. Glad I brought you home, hopefully this fertilizer will be more gentle on you than the stuff at work.”  

The fern seemed to perk up under his touch, its leaves ever so slightly unfurling. Y/N smiled softly at the sight, a quiet sense of pride blooming in his chest. He moved on to the next plant, a wilting orchid he’d taken from the nursery just a week ago. It had been deemed unsellable, the kind of plant most people would have thrown away without a second thought, after all orchids were known for being a hard plant to keep alive. But Y/N had seen potential in it, like he always did. Changed the substrate it was in for rock moss in hope it would help keep it from getting root rot.  

“Don’t worry, you’re going to be beautiful again soon,” he said softly. He added a small pinch of his homemade fertilizer mix and gave the orchid an encouraging tap on the side of its pot. The crow clicked again, drawing Y/N’s attention. He glanced toward the balcony, a small smile tugging at his lips. “What? You want some attention too?I just gave you blueberries and peanuts trying to swindle more treats out of me?”  

The bird fluffed itself up further in response, letting out a soft caw. “Alright, alright,” Y/N said with a chuckle, setting the watering can aside. He stepped out onto the balcony, resting his forearms on the railing as he looked out at the city. The crow hopped closer, its beady eyes locking onto him. “You’re so spoiled, you know that?” Y/N said, reaching out to scratch the bird's head. The crow tilted its head, leaning into the touch.  

Y/N let out a contented sigh, his gaze drifting back to the plants inside. The apartment was small, but it felt alive, every corner brimming with greenery, from the hanging pots in the kitchen. It was a little sanctuary in the middle of Gotham.   

As he finished tending to the last plant, stepping back and surveyed his little indoor garden. A satisfied smile spread across his face. “There we go. You guys are all set.”  

Y/N settled into his couch, the crow flying in to perch on the backrest beside him. He grabbed the remote, flipping on the TV, the soft hum of the news anchor’s voice filling the room.  

The familiar Gotham News Network “ temperature. Highs today will reach the mid-50s, but by tomorrow morning, we’re looking at lows in the upper 30s. So, make sure to bundle up and keep an umbrella handy, expect ice on the roads and perhaps even some snow!”  Y/N ran a hand through his hair, glancing at the plants by the window. If it did snow he'd have to bring all the plants from the balcony inside, he didn't want them to get frost burn. “You guys are lucky you don’t have to deal with the cold,” he muttered with a small smile.   

“In other news, a multi-car pileup on the Gotham Expressway has left three people injured and caused significant delays for morning commuters. Authorities say the accident was caused by a trailer losing control on a slick patch of road. Emergency services are working to clear the road.” Footage of flashing lights, emergency vehicles, and crumpled cars filled the screen, followed by a statement from a spokesperson for the Gotham City Police Department.  

“Thankfully, no fatalities have been reported, but we urge drivers to exercise caution, particularly with rain expected later today. And positive snow and ice in the coming days”  

Y/N sighed, shaking his head. “Gotham traffic is bad enough without stuff like that, guess ill be leaving extra earlier for my shift on monday so i dont get caught” he murmured.  

The anchor’s shifted again this time to a woman at a desk, this time to the lighter, polished tone reserved for celebrity gossip.  

“And here in Gotham, headlines as Bruce Wayne announced a new charitable initiative at yesterday’s gala. The initiative, focused on improving inner-city schools, will launch with a $10 million donation from Wayne Enterprises. Mr. Wayne, known for his philanthropic efforts, spoke briefly to reporters about the project.”  

The screen cut to footage of Bruce Wayne, dressed in a sharp suit, smiling politely as he addressed a crowd of reporters outside the venue. “This city’s children deserve every opportunity to succeed and have a chance for a better future, ” Bruce said, his tone calm and confident. “Education is the foundation of a brighter future, and it’s our responsibility to provide the resources and support they need to thrive.”  

The clip ended, cutting back to the anchor.  

“Wayne Enterprises CEO Tim Drake-Wayne also announced plans to partner with several local nonprofits to ensure the funds are distributed effectively. This comes on the heels of a recent spike in Wayne Enterprises’ stock prices following the successful launch of their clean energy program.” Y/N let out a low whistle, leaning back into the couch. “Man they are always busy, that lot” he said, shaking his head.  

Y/N lounged back against the couch, one leg draped over the armrest as he lazily flicked through the channels. The familiar static hum of old TV shows filled the room, and he settled on an episode of mind-numbing drama that he didn’t care enough to name. It wasn’t for the story; it was just background noise to accompany the quiet peace of his apartment.  

Reaching to the side table, Y/N grabbed a small stack of books he’d been working through. The worn covers and dog-eared pages spoke of his frequent use, each book filled with handwritten notes, underlined passages, and little scraps of paper sticking out as bookmarks.  

His fingers trailed over the spine of one before he opened it, flipping to a section he’d been revisiting lately: remedies for colds and flu. The weather report replayed itself in his mind—a sudden cold front, rain, and dropping temperatures. He already knew what that meant.  

Mrs. Callahan from down a floor would be knocking soon, asking for something to help with her sinuses, which he'd then remind her she needed to see a doctor over it. And Mr. Moran would probably stop by later in the week, claiming he wasn’t sick while sniffling through every word. Y/N smirked as he flipped through the pages, his fingers tapping softly against the book’s edge.  

He didn’t mind. His neighbors weren’t bad people, and they were always grateful for the little tinctures and herbal teas he whipped up for them. Better than the over-the-counter stuff, they always said. “Alright,” he murmured to himself, scanning a recipe for elderberry syrup. “Elderberries, ginger, honey, cinnamon... got plenty of that. Should probably make a bigger batch this time.”  

His eyes shifted to another section, one detailing a simple herbal vapor rub. He scratched at the faint stubble on his jawline, making a mental note to check his stash of eucalyptus oil. After jotting down a few quick notes in the margins of the book, Y/N stood, stretching his arms above his head. The soft rustling of the nearby plants caught his attention as he moved. Their leaves seemed to shift slightly toward him, as though drawn by some invisible force. He paused, smiling faintly.  

“You guys are so needy,” he teased lightly, brushing his fingers over the nearest set of leaves.  Y/N wandered into the kitchen, grabbing a large mixing bowl and a few jars from the cabinet. He worked methodically, humming softly as he pulled ingredients from various cupboards. His crow companion let out a soft caw from its perch on the back of a chair, watching him with the same curious intensity it always seemed to have.  

Y/N said, tossing the bird a small piece of dried fruit he’d left out on the counter. The crow caught it mid-air, clicking in approval as it settled down to eat. The herbs and jars are spread out across the counter as Y/N begin to measure and mix. The faint scent of cinnamon and honey filled the air as he started on the elderberry syrup, carefully boiling the berries with spices before straining the mixture into a pot.  

______________

Translation: 

zїna biando - fairy born

Daj - mother

______________

homemade cough and cold syrup 

Elderberry syrup 

1 cup dried Elderberries 

4 cups water 

½ cup honey or sweetener of choice 

A piece of ginger 

4 cloves 

2 cinnamon sticks 

(Optional add ins) 

2 sprigs of rosemary 

3 star anise 

1 tbsp of Yarrow 

Garlic and Honey 

Add garlic and honey into a jar of choice and let ferment for 4 weeks. Make sure to tip and burp your jar at least once every two days. 

Fire cider 1L worth 

1 red onion 

2-3 jalapeno's or chilli's 

1 large orange 

1 lemon 

1 head of garlic smashed 

1 bunch of thyme 

1 bunch of rosemary

Small handful of peppercorns 

5 cloves 

A cinnamon stick 

Dried cayenne pepper 

Ginger (measure with your heart) 

Turmeric (half of your ginger) 

Fill jars with raw apple cider vinegar once everything is in the jar

(Honey is Optional) 

___________________

Also, for everyone, this here was the rescue Crow I had for a while who still visits my grandmother, his name is Kohl. He's the base of the crow in the story, so I hope you enjoy it.

Let me know if you would like to be added to a tag list for this fic.

[ncteenv]

love boner

kim jungwoo x fem!reader cw: 18+ mdni, suggestive/dialogue, kiss-kisses-and more kissing, playful banter, mentions of smoking, affectionate intimacy, emotional vulnerability

“you are just so..”

jungwoo trails off, eyes wandering over your face as you stand trapped between his arms, back against the kitchen counter, senses filled with your boyfriend and nothing else.

living with someone you love and waking up at seven in the morning was the new normal for you, now. it took a while to adjust to sharing the bed with jungwoo’s clingy sleeping habits, his loud showering (seriously, how could someone shower so loud), and little arguments about him leaving cigarette butts around but it never goes too far.

it was all his fault, really. just throwing a new key in your face like that, like you’re some sort of welcome doormat, and he gives you no choice but to say yes because he’s giving you the softest heart eyes.

but by the grin on his face as he moves a bit closer, you know he doesn’t feel the slightest bit guilty.

“say it,” you murmured, placing your hands on his waist, “i’m what?”

“that’s the thing,” he says back in an equally low, steady voice. “i don't know the word to describe you.” he trails his lips silently over your cheek.

“try.. indescribable?” your fingers grab onto the material of his jeans, trying to push him away.

“yes. indescribable.” his lips tickle your skin, forcing a laugh out of you.

“stop it.” you laugh, shoving him away but he persists. “jungwoo stop or i'm going to knee you.”

a small sigh leaves his mouth as he drops his head to your shoulder. “don’t,” he says quietly, shaking his head, “don’t say that.”

you know he doesn’t mean your threat. “say what?”

“my name.” he whined a bit.

“well it’s your name, isn’t it?” you giggled.

“don’t like it.” jungwoo huffed, “say something else. the other stuff you say.”

“i only use your pet name when i like you.”

his head shoots up, hurt in his eyes. “what have i done to make you upset with me at seven in the morning?”

“you tickled me.”

“and i’ll do it again if you don’t start being nice to me.” he push his body into yours, making you more squished against the counter.

pelvis’s now pressing together, jungwoo nuzzles his face in your neck, his nose causing more giggles to escape your mouth.

your eyes squeeze shut, trying to desperately push him away. “okay, okay. jungwoo! i’ll pee if you keep tickling me.”

“what was that?”

“jungie. my love. stop, please.”

at the sound of the sweet pet name, he pulls away. not enough to stop breathing in your air, but enough to place his lips on your cheek, gently kissing. his lips drag over to the bridge of your nose, noticing your eyes are still shut, but smiling at the way you bite your lip in anticipation when his kisses continue over your face. no inch is left untouched by his tenderness, caressing each bump, discoloration, sign of sleepiness with his mouth with the softest of pressure.

he notices your breath increase just a little bit when his kisses dip down to the corner of your mouth, and you immediately crane your neck to catch that kiss, but he shifts away, moving further down to your chin. disheartened, you open your eyes, but he avoids looking into them. jungwoo moves back up, but to your great sadness, he only pecks your cupid bow before gently maneuvering your head to the side to continue displaying his affection to the other side of your face. he chuckles softly when you huff, releasing your hands from his waist, and firmly gripped the chest of his shirt.

you tilt your head up when he's finished kissing your other cheek, bringing his mouth back down to your jaw, but instead of placing his lips firmly on yours, he uses his hand to push your head to the side to kiss your ear.

“just kiss me, already.” you sigh, wanting to stomp your foot impatiently. “my ears gotten enough attention.”

“so needy.” jungwoo comments, clearly smug. his mouth finally stops near yours, and the hand that holds your jaw cups your cheek, drawing you in, in one motion, stamping his lips to yours.

you released his shirt and dropped your hands back down to his waist, sliding around to shove them in his back pockets. if you hadn't been holding onto his ass so tightly, you would have been a mess of a puddle on the floor by his feet, but that's what it felt like anyway. everything he did reduced you to that state, so it's a wonder it didn't literally happen right now.

he kisses your bottom lip gently, taking his time. mornings consisted of things like this, now. another thing you found yourself easily adjusting to. before living with your boyfriend, it was sweet and chaste kisses. but now that he’s got you within his reach, every second and hour, he gets to take his time. his kisses became rougher and more passionate while maintaining that sweetness at the same time.

when he pulls away, it entices a whimper out of you, but jungwoo doesn't rush to ridicule you, delighted by the sound instead. there’s no rush. he kisses you once more before laying his lips on your forehead, sighing.

it doesn't seem like enough, your mind argues, so you lunge forward and embrace him tightly, joining your arms around his neck to ensure he doesn't leave.

“i love you. do you know that?” jungwoo mumbles into your hair.

you can’t help but laugh softly. “i do know that.”

“but do you know how much?”

your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of his lips once again grazing the line of your jaw, trailing down your neck, to pulling your shirt off your shoulder and leaving a kiss there on your bare skin. the act alone should tell you how much, but it’s not what he’s looking for.

“jungie-”

“the day i asked you to move in, i was so afraid you’d say no because of how sudden it was.” he said quietly.

“i know. you tell me all the time.” a dry chuckle leaves your throat.

“i didn't think about how much i was asking you to give up. a bed to yourself, a quiet apartment, less cigarette smoke. yet, you never asked me to give up anything.” he babbled on. “but i’ll do it right now, baby. i will quit smoking for you and i’ll become mute.”

“and the bed?” you raised an eyebrow.

“i will sleep on the couch once a week but i will die if i never get to wake up next to you.” he says, dramatically.

you rolled your eyes, playfully. “i understand, jungwoo. you don’t have to give up any of those things. i know how much you love me.”

“yeah? how much is that, y/n/n?”

you hummed, dropping your arms from around his neck to put a small gap between the both of you. “like right now.. it seems enough to have a boner whenever you’re near me.” you grin.

“actually,” he corrects you, beaming, “it’s a love boner.”

“stop saying that. just say you want to screw me.”

he pouts. “you’re kind of ruining the moment.”

“don’t be embarrassed, jungie. it’s there. you can’t help it.”

jungwoo snorts, gathering you into his arms again. “embarrassed?! why would i be embarrassed about the way i show my love?”

“are you really admitting that you show your love through your boners?” you furrowed your eyebrows, voice muffled against his chest, holding him tightly.

“shhh,” he hushed you, delivering a swift and gentle kiss on the top of your head, “love boner.”

so, this was your new normal.

[dnbrainrot]

I FUCKING FORGOT TO POST ABOUT THIS YESTERDAY BUT I HAVE BEEN BLESSED BY @poofmalyakaet MY LAWLIGHT SOCKS SHOWED UP

IM INSANE I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

They also came with a few little prints WHICH I ALSO LOVE AND HAVE IMMEDIATELY PUT ON MY WALL

Thank you poof for bringing these into existence I will cherish them until the day I die <3

[sesamestreep]

sexy himbo jock interpretations of James Tiberius Kirk are silly and do a disservice to the character for a lot of reasons, not least of which is that it fundamentally ignores all the times in canon when Kirk is faced with a scientific discovery or oddity and you can see the effort it takes for him not to clap and skip with excitement. like in ‘the devil in the dark’ when Spock posits that they might be dealing with a silicon based life form and McCoy’s like “but that’s impossible!” and Kirk literally crosses the room to flirt talk excitedly with Spock about the prospect and how it could work! and what it would mean!

What I’m saying is, Kirk’s gotta be smart and a huge dork because how else could he pull a bad autistic bitch like Spock?

[drizzerey]

(I will be redrawing this so she has her dress and is properly on her feet. But I have decided this is why he is doing this)

“You need to stop using that on me.” Lann bemoaned, which made Driz laugh.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She said, clear smile on her voice which told Lann, she knew exactly what he was talking about and denied it fully.

“Ever since I pointed it out, you’ve used it on me and it’s not at all fair, I don’t use it on you.” Lann complained, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

Turning, Driz laughed. “Oh please, like that would work on me.” she claimed, so sure she was right.

Normally Driz was right, but Lann was fairly confident, and his lips slowly turned up into a smirk. “Oh really?” He challenged.

Driz smirked at him right back, clearly thinking she knew what she was talking about. “Absolutely.” She crossed her own arms, daring him with her green eyes to try and prove her wrong.

“Okay, you asked for it.” Lann shook his head, before he swiftly crouched in front of her, and wrapped his arms around her legs, bringing her flush against him. He looked up at her, trying to make his eyes as big as possible, and while she couldn’t see his mouth as her dress kinda hid it from view, there was no mistaking the sad frown he projected.

Instantly her confident demeanor dropped and Driz could not look away, her cheeks flushing and he knew he won, but he waited patiently for her to admit defeat.

Finally Driz managed to break eye contact and looked away with a pout. “Alright I admit you can.” She ground past her teeth.

“What was that?” Lann asked, trying his best not to let the expression fall yet, but it was hard with how much he wanted to grin up at her.

“You got me with the eye thing!” She huffed and refused to meet his eyes again. “Now stop it!”

Chuckling, Lann nuzzled her leg, dropping the big eyed look. “Are you upset I was right for once?”

“You are right more than once in a while.” Driz snapped. “Just thought I wouldn’t fall for it.”

“Ah, so you’re mad that you’re not as strong as you thought, against the look.” Lann laughed. “If it makes you feel better, there are a lot of looks at my disposal you aren’t strong enough to resist.” Driz crossed her arms and refused to meet his gaze still. “You won’t look at me because you know it’s true.”

“Oh quit rubbing it in!” Driz tried to get out of his hold, but he wouldn’t let go. “Lann,” She warned.

“Driz,” He purred. Now he was grinning full force up at her.

There was no doubt in his mind that if she truly wanted him to let her go or was not happy with him, he’d probably feel like he was dying in a split second. But Driz, despite her hurt pride, wasn’t going to hurt him. Though she was hanging onto her frustration a lot longer than he thought was normal. “You’re not actually mad are you?”

Sighing, Driz finally met his eyes. “No, I’m not mad. I just don’t like admitting defeat.” Driz said.

“We’re just having fun, I’m not going to hold it against you.” Lann promised.

“I know… I know.” She closed her eyes, before lowering herself so she was more in his lap. Lann settled them more on the ground, hugging her close. “At least you admit you’re cute.”

“Now wait a minute.” Lann protested, he hadn’t expected that.

“It’s the adorable animal look, you called it that long before I did, and you were so determined to prove you could do it. Therefore you’re admitting you are cute!” Driz was smiling up at him, clearly pushing aside whatever dark mood had taken hold of her.

Lann realized he had played himself and he frowned, closing his eyes with a curse. “Just cause I know how to… oh shush you, I am not adorable. You just have a weird perception of what’s cute.” He grumbled.

“You can try to deny all you want,” Driz poked his cheek and giggled when he growled a little. “I got you to admit you’re cute!” 

“Oh yeah, real cute. The ladies can’t get enough of me.” He huffed. It was not like with Driz who had to beat off people with a stick. Lann only ever attracted a few women, and they were all mongrels. Well not counting Driz.

“After the crusade I’ll take you around the world and you’ll see, Mendev is just terrible. I’ll have to start being all possessive.” Driz claimed.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Lann muttered.

Giggling, Driz leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ve made a lot of things you thought couldn’t happen, happen. When are you going to start believing me?”

“You said you could resist me, and I just proved you wrong, showing that you can in fact be wrong sometimes.” Lann countered.

“I never once claimed I was always right!” Driz laughed, leaning more into him. No she didn’t think she was always right. Letting out whatever tension he was holding, he rested his cheek against her, snuggling closer and just feeling content with her in his arms.

doing a more sketchy look cause I'm kinda hating on my linework and cell shading right now so doing something a bit more fun for me.

No idea what Lann is asking for here, but Driz is just as bad as he is saying no the other. Also Driz is in her dressed down outfit cause I didn't wanna make her wear a dress and cover up a bunch of the details here.

Also I got some better reference images for Lann's in game model so hopefully this will help keep his look more consistent.

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

All I’m going to say I think now that my brain remembered part of what it was thinking is that Taylor and Joe went through a lot together (good and bad) and regardless of how it ended or what led to it they both seem to be determined to keep that private and not throw each other under the bus and in the end they’re just two very, very different people whose outlooks in the long term were just never going to align and never has that been clearer.

[himblebo]

She’s married she’s married she’s married she’s married (to a man to a man to a man to a man)

[padfootastic]

i am so tired of female characters being inherently written as ‘terrifying’ or ‘scary’ w no respect to their characterisation.

for one, it feels so fake. i know so many women irl (i am one!!!) and there are very few, of any, that i would categorise as ‘scary as is’. heck, even if we go by tempers—the numbers just don’t match.

but somehow in fics, every single woman is a terrifying force of nature bc that’s…somehow…the only way we can think of women? idk?

and also just, it’s such a two dimensional characterisation that i only see w the female characters. all men aren’t angry and hex-happy and scary all the time. they’re affable, chill, respond to situations thoughtfully instead of always resorting to violence.

i think it also bothers me bc the anger thing flows neatly into the v gendered carefree man child/stuck up fun sponge stereotypes that so many relationships are forced into. it’s just an icky dynamic all around.

and lastly,,,i don’t think it’s even normal for a character to be latently terrifying everyone all the time??? unless it’s a specific quirk of theirs??? like women aren’t dementors bro chill tf out

[itspileofgoodthings]

like. Nina listens to Taylor, moderately keeps up with the front-facing aspects of her life, enjoys her quality, has her minor critiques, recognizes her place in the current culture, can set her down and do other things when she wants to, and most importantly knows who Taylor is through her art.