#THERE ARE PEOPLE SEARCHING FOR LOVE IN EVERY WAY

[itsnesss]

hii, i already love your works sm and i was wondering if i could request a jun-ho fic where him and fem!reader search his brother and they can’t keep their hands off of each other? ;) and one day after reader teases jun-ho too much he just fucks her into the bathroom? i’m so sorry if that sounded weird 😭

love ya <333

𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 | hwang jun-ho × fem!reader

summary | the request

warnings | smut, explicit content, tension-filled interactions, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, slight power dynamics

word count | 2.5 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me thanks ᡣ𐭩

The search for his brother has become more than a mission. It has stopped being just a matter of finding him. Every minute by his side, every stolen glance, every shared sigh... makes you forget everything else. The obsession with finding him has given way to a palpable tension between you and Jun-ho. At every corner, every place where they stop, their hands meet by accident, their bodies brush against each other as if it were inevitable. As if there were something beyond the search, something you can't control.

On one of those long and frustrating nights. They had followed a lead about Jun-ho's brother that had taken them to a small town, but the contact never showed up. They ended up in a rundown motel, sharing a room because the budget couldn't stretch any further.

You had tried to sleep, but between the noise of the old fan and the feeling of Jun-ho just a couple of meters away, it was impossible. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, reviewing some papers under the dim light of the bedside lamp, frowning as always.

"You should rest," you said from your bed, your voice heavy with sleep and annoyance. Keep staring at it won't make your brother magically appear.

Jun-ho looked up, clearly irritated, but also a bit tired.

"I can't".

You got up, leaning against the headboard of the bed, crossing your arms.

"You're such a stubborn one, you know?" you joked, although there was some truth in your words. "You always want to carry everything on your own".

"And you always have something to say, don't you?" he replied, his tone sharp but without real anger.

The conversation continued for a while, small jibes that gradually eased the day's tension. But as they talked, the atmosphere changed. There was something different in the way he looked at you that night, something beyond fatigue or worry.

When you stood up to approach his side, intending to snatch the papers from his hands to force him to rest, his fingers brushed against yours. It was a brief, accidental contact, but the heat it generated made both of them freeze, looking at each other in silence.

"What?" you asked, your voice softer, almost a whisper.

He didn't respond. Instead, he set the papers aside and leaned towards you. The moment was so unexpected that you didn't have time to think. His lips met yours, soft at first, as if he were tasting something he had longed for too long. But the kiss soon became more intense, more needy.

His hands moved up your arms, then to your waist, pulling you closer. You didn't resist. On the contrary, your fingers tangled in his hair as the heat in your chest intensified. You were kneeling in front of him, and you felt his heavy breath against your lips when they barely separated for a moment.

"This isn't right," he murmured, though he made no effort to move away.

"Then stop doing it," you replied, challenging him, and kissed him again, losing yourself in the way his body molded to yours.

That night didn't go beyond that. Although his hands roamed your back, your legs, and his lips left a burning trail on your neck, both stopped before crossing a line they knew would complicate everything. But after that, nothing was ever the same again. The casual touches felt more charged, the glances lingered too long, and the desire between you kept growing.

Jun-ho has never been so straightforward, but you know he is as caught up in this tightrope as you are. The nights spent reviewing clues become an excuse to be close, too close, as the hours fade away and the only thing left between you is unresolved desire.

Today is no different. You are in his apartment, a room cluttered with the mountains of papers they have accumulated during the search, and a constant feeling of discomfort that neither of you can ignore. The brush of his hands as he hands you a cup of coffee, the gentle touch of his fingers as he passes you a photo... everything feels magnified.

"What?" Jun-ho asks, raising an eyebrow when you stare for a second longer than necessary. As if you were evaluating every detail of him, every little gesture that only intensifies what you already know.

"Nothing". You shrug, but the mocking smile that forms on your lips says the exact opposite. There's something about him that makes you feel... powerful. As if you could play with him, put him to the test.

"Don't look at me like that."His voice is deeper than it should be, and his gaze darkens, as if he were waiting for one more provocation. And you know it. You know you did it on purpose.

You've seen him hesitate before, his self-control always on the edge, but this time, you can't help it. You know that what is happening between you is more than just a simple attraction. It's a whirlwind of emotions, of confusion, and above all, of something neither of you can ignore.

You don't stop, and neither does he. The tension remains constant, growing as time passes. The brush of his body near yours while you search for more clues sends shivers down your spine, but you can't pull away. You can't stop looking for an excuse to be near him.

Jun-ho walks back and forth, reviewing papers and murmuring something about clues and possible locations. You see him so serious, so engrossed in his detective role, that you can't resist making a comment to annoy him.

"Are you always this intense?" you ask, resting your chin on your hand.

He stops and glances at you sideways, bewildered.

"What do you mean?"

You smile, innocent but with a touch of mischief.

You know, all that frowning, the rigid posture, the constant "I'm solving an important case" face. I wonder if you ever relax... or if you look the same when you're, you know, at other times.

The insinuation in your voice is impossible to ignore. His eyes narrow, and you see his jaw tighten.

"In other times?" he repeats, clearly caught between confusion and challenge.

You shrug, feigning innocence.

"You know, more... private moments. Are you just as intense or do you follow a whole procedure?"

His reaction is immediate. He leaves the papers on the table and walks towards you with determined steps. Before you can get up, he leans over you, his hands resting on either side of your body.

"Do you want to find out?"

You are left speechless, but he doesn't give you time to respond. In a swift motion, he grabs your wrist and takes you to the bathroom.

The feeling of having him so close, his body pressed against yours, gives you goosebumps. The desire you had contained for so long bursts forth in a wave of need.

"Is this private?" he asks, his lips brushing against yours as he unbuttons his shirt.

"Yes," you affirm, your breath quickening.

"Well". He smiles, his eyes shining with a predatory glint. "So yes, I am just as intense at other times... even more so".

And with those words, his mouth meets yours in a passionate kiss. His hands glide over your body, exploring every part of you, while yours cling to his shoulders with need. The bathroom fills with our sounds, with gasps and sighs as we lose ourselves in this long-repressed need.

"Take off your shirt," he whispers in your ear, his warm breath on your skin, and you obey without thinking. It slides off your shoulders and falls to the ground, and before you can speak, your fingers sink into his hair and you pull him towards you again.

"Is this what you wanted?" he gasps on your lips, his fingers climbing up your ribs and rubbing your skin in circular motions.

You stop. The question makes something change in you. It's as if a veil has been lifted, and everything suddenly became clear.

"I want more," you reply, sincere, not caring that he notices what you feel. I want to feel you. I want to make you moan. I want you to be unable to pull away from me.

And his eyes shine. Her gaze turns dark, predatory, and her lips curve into a smile.

"Wow… that's interesting". He nods, his fingers caressing your lips. "Fortunately, I can fulfill your wishes".

And before you can respond, his fingers slide over your pants. The sound of the zipper opening is loud in the silence of the bathroom, and you barely have time to process it before his hands grab your thighs and sit you on the edge of the sink.

"Strip," he orders, his eyes shifting to your pants, and you don't hesitate to obey.

You remove them immediately, and your underwear slips off with them, revealing your naked body. His eyes roam over every part of you, as if it were the first time he sees you, and his breath quickens suddenly.

"You look beautiful" he gasps, his voice deeper now, filled with need. "So beautiful..."

And again, his lips meet yours in a wild, hungry kiss. His hand moves up your thigh and grabs your leg, pressing it against his waist.

"Do you like it?" he whispers, his hand rubbing you. "Do you like what I'm doing to you?"

You nod, and his smile curves again. His fingers touch you in a way that makes your feet go cold and you tense up.

"That's interesting" he pants. "I think I'm going to need a bit more information".

And with his words, a finger begins to penetrate you. The movement is slow, as if he is unsure, but soon, his fingers begin to move in circular motions, penetrating you again and again, and you curl up, wrapping your legs around his fingers.

"Is this better?" she asks, her voice tense with desire.

"Mmm" you respond with a gasp, your fingers gripping his shoulders.

"Mmm what?"

"Yes…" you manage to say, your breath now more rapid. The pleasure is intense, it makes every part of you tense in an exquisite way. "Continue".

And he does it, his finger moving faster and deeper each time. His lips slide down to your nipples and he begins to suck on them, drawing them in with slow movements. The pleasure makes you arch towards him, trying for more, but his hand suddenly stops.

"Is that what you want?" he whispers. Do you want me to touch you?

"Yes, please" you gasp, pleading. "Don't stop..."

And his hand starts to move again. This time it is two fingers that penetrate you, slowly, but increasingly intensely. You arch towards him, with a cry of pleasure.

"And this?" Jun-ho whispers. Do you want more?

"Yes" you manage to respond, every part of you vibrating with pleasure. "Please".

"Please?" he repeats. I like that.

His fingers stop again, but before you can protest, his body shifts position, lowering slowly, and his mouth meets your sex. His lips begin to suck you, licking every part of you with slow, exquisite movements. Your body arches towards him again, trying more, and his fingers penetrate you once more.

The sensation is indescribable. The pressure inside you, the heat in your breasts, the sensation of his lips on you... everything comes together in an intense, exquisite pleasure.

"Jun-ho" you sob, your fingers sinking into his hair. "Jun-ho!"

"What?" he whispers, his eyes fixed on you.

"More... more..." you manage to stammer, trying to describe the pleasure.

And his mouth fills you up again. His lips suck you with strong movements, his fingers penetrating you faster and faster. Your body shakes with pleasure, but his mouth doesn't stop. He sucks you with frantic movements, devours you with the hunger of a man who hasn't eaten in days. His fingers caress you, touch you in the most exquisite way, and suddenly, the pleasure is overwhelming.

"Oh, god!" you moan, your fingers tugging at his hair. "Yes... yes..."

And everything fades away. The pleasure bursts into an intense orgasm, making you arch against his fingers. Your body shakes back and forth, trying to rid itself of the pleasure, but his fingers and mouth hold you there, not letting you go.

Finally, the orgasm fades, and your body collapses onto the sink. His fingers withdraw, and his mouth kisses you gently. Then, a moment later, his arms wrap around you and lift you, sitting you back on the sink.

"I think you're the best meal I've ever had," he says, his smile mischievous.

You smile too.

"You're not bad either" you tell him.

"No?" He approaches you with slow steps. "Does that mean you might want more?".

You smile at him again.

"It depends". You approach him, wrapping your arms around his waist. "What do you have to offer me?"

"Oh, I think I have something you might find interesting…" He nods, smiling. "Do you want to see it?"

You nod your head, and immediately, his fingers begin to lower his belt. He lowers his pants and lets them fall to the ground. And there it is, his member, erect, strong, ready to penetrate you.

"Do you want to try this?" gasps Jun-ho, his breath already quickened. Do you want to feel me inside you?

You smile mischievously.

"Hmm…" you respond. "I don't know, what do you offer me if I try it?"

"If you try it, I promise you'll feel something incredible". His fingers begin to caress your thighs again. "I'm going to make you feel things you've never imagined".

"Hmm…" you whisper. "Well, then it seems fine to me. I'm going to give it a try".

And immediately, you get up from the sink and approach Jun-ho. His arms close around you and push you against the bathroom wall. His eyes fixate on you, shining with intense desire as he leans against you, his member brushing against your core.

"Do you want?" he whispers.

"Yes".You nod your head. "I want!"

And her hips move forward. His member penetrates you in a gentle yet intense manner. The contact is exquisite, making you sigh with pleasure and fall into his arms.

"Is that okay?" she gasps between breaths.

"Hmm... yes" you murmur, your fingers encircling his shoulders. "Continue..."

And his hips begin to move again. His member penetrates you harder, deeper, and with each movement, the pleasure within you grows. His fingers grip your legs, lifting them towards his waist for easier access, and you let yourself go, trying to absorb all the pleasure you can.

"Do you like this?" he whispers again, his breath quickening more and more. Do you like how I touch you?

"Yes... yes..." you murmur, your breathing also becoming increasingly rapid.

"Well —he gasps with a sigh." Then I'm going to give you more... much more...

Her hips start to move again. This time his member penetrates you harder than before, faster. The pleasure is indescribable, it makes your body tense and contract towards him.

"Oh!" you moan between sighs. "Like this!"

"Like this?" he gasps again. "Do you want it like this?"

"Yes... Yes..." you respond, your fingers gripping it tighter—. Yes!

And he doesn't say anything more. His hips keep moving that way, with quick and deep movements. His arms wrap around you, holding you against him, and your fingers clutch his shoulders. The pleasure is increasingly intense, increasingly unbearable, but his body does not stop.

Finally, his breathing quickens too much, each of his movements becomes increasingly rough, and his member begins to pulse inside you.

"God!" she screams, her breath ragged.

And everything suddenly explodes. His member hardens and begins to release his semen into a hot river. His body shakes back and forth, trying to absorb every sensation, and the pleasure makes you let go with a scream. The orgasm is strong, intense, making your fingers grip him tighter and the walls surround him.

Finally, everything disappears again. Her hips come to a stop, her breathing returns to normal, and her arms relax. Her eyes, however, continue to shine. He approaches you and kisses you on the cheek.

"Was it how you wanted it?" he whispers between your lips.

You smile mischievously again.

"Hmm… I think it was better". You slip out of his arms and start getting dressed. "The thing is, I can't have this whenever I want".

He smiles again.

"That's easy to fix" he says, while also getting dressed. I can give you as much as you want.

"I hope so". And immediately you walk away from him, leaving the bathroom without waiting to see his reaction.

"Don't worry, you won't have to wait long," you hear his words behind you, and a smile curves your lips.

[sylvia-und-sybille]

💯 [100] How many words does your WIP currently have? How many words do you hope it’ll have when it’s done? 2.3K+ now, and whatever happens, that happens.

⌛️ [Hourglass] How long have you been working on this WIP? 3 days.

📚 [Books] Is this WIP part of a series or standalone? AU location (starts as) and aged-up characters.

🎀 [Bow] How many named characters are in this WIP? How many do get a POV? OTP only. Even as 3rd person's point of view there's little of point of view at all (as thoughts or just about a person alone.)

💖 [Heart] What is your favorite moment in this WIP? OTP talk & do things together.

🎶 [Notes] Do you have any other WIP related things, like moodboards, character portraits, playlists or similar? It can happen in 0.001% of cases (if, then fanfictions only.)

📖 [Open Book] What form do you want this WIP to take when it’s done? Posted, printed, published, etc? Posted only.

🐀 [Rat] Name three reasons why this WIP is great at being insert genre here. (You can send a genre, or let the recipient pick one.) Romance, as it's about a lot of love (as in every fanfiction about them.)

🐁[Mouse] Name three reasons why this WIP is horrible at being insert genre here. (You can send a genre, or let the recipient pick one.) Humour. Unfortunately, no funny moments.

🔎 [Magnifier] Is there a phrase/word you know you use too often? Will you change it in editing? So (for years.) If exaggerate, the answer is, so what? So to be it. | Whenever possible, I try to find other way to glue parts of looong sentences and not to break them into shorter ones. The writer of the original version had looong sentences as well and paragraphs can seem almost endless in many cases.

🍖 [Meat] How many fictional people were harmed in the making of this WIP? EVERY SINGLE of my fanfictions & original stories has happy end (unless past when I wanted to write about harm done to or defeat of a bad or unpleasant character.) In the case of latest WIP fanfiction: deep sadness of both, character 2: wish to cry before relief, no harm.

🌈 [Rainbow] If at the beginning of your WIP the characters knew about the end, would they kill you to stop you from writing it? They would look forward to a plot twist (mostly character 2, as character 1 had an idea.)

‍🎨 [Palette] If your WIP was a color, which color would it be? Rainbow, as they deserve.

🍩 [Donut] What’s the weirdest thing someone eats in your WIP? What’s the best thing? No food or drinks are mentioned (yet?)

🔒 [Lock] Would you let your family, friends, or other people you know in real life read your WIP? No, and I almost don't know people in real life. Yes, I'm so called "live under a rock."

🖋️ [Pen] Describe your WIP in a single, terrible sentence. At first, the two are icebergs, but very, very soon, nothing is under water . . . (They talk about character 1 as having an iceberg, so . . .) . . . positive plot twist, philosophical discussion, something else unexpected (positive again.) (Note: something else is before plot twist, though. | I've had to search for answers to at least understand how such description can be possible.)

❌ [Cross] What would your WIP get cancelled on Twitter for? What does it mean even? If as not accepted, one of important parts is gender non-conformity. Those who are against girls & women who don't look feminine can be highly displeased. BUT what can I say, the version the fanfiction is based on has scenes with character 2 in man's shirt. So yes, haters can hate as long as they want.

UPDATE a day after: I've had an idea (chapter 2, not one-shot as it was planned initially) which is the reason to "get cancelled on Twitter," but I don't care. The idea supposed to be a part of some future fanfiction (no matter which, but based on the modern version of the story,) but the wish to add this to the current one was too strong, so it will be here :D The first chapter discussed above has two plot twists, but this idea is an enormous plot twist. Second plot twist & new one will result in (in my opinion, at least) it's too good to be true | unrealistic, but I don't care. I want this to exist, so it will.

Random WIP Ask Game

💯 [100] How many words does your WIP currently have? How many words do you hope it'll have when it's done?

⌛️ [Hourglass] How long have you been working on this WIP?

📚 [Books] Is this WIP part of a series or standalone?

🎀 [Bow] How many named characters are in this WIP? How many do get a POV?

💖 [Heart] What is your favorite moment in this WIP?

🎶 [Notes] Do you have any other WIP related things, like moodboards, character portraits, playlists or similar?

📖 [Open Book] What form do you want this WIP to take when it's done? Posted, printed, published, etc?

🐀 [Rat] Name three reasons why this WIP is great at being insert genre here. (You can send a genre, or let the recipient pick one.)

🐁[Mouse] Name three reasons why this WIP is horrible at being insert genre here. (You can send a genre, or let the recipient pick one.)

🔎 [Magnifier] Is there a phrase/word you know you use too often? Will you change it in editing?

🍖 [Meat] How many fictional people were harmed in the making of this WIP?

🌈 [Rainbow] If at the beginning of your WIP the characters knew about the end, would they kill you to stop you from writing it?

‍🎨 [Palette] If your WIP was a color, which color would it be?

🍩 [Donut] What's the weirdest thing someone eats in your WIP? What's the best thing?

🔒 [Lock] Would you let your family, friends, or other people you know in real life read your WIP?

🖋️ [Pen] Describe your WIP in a single, terrible sentence.

❌ [Cross] What would your WIP get cancelled on Twitter for?

[thisisjustfanfic]

~ Some drabbles of the LADS Men and Hair~

(Done as a writing warmup) ===LADS x Reader===

Xavier:

The least particular about his hair, he couldn't care less how it looks. The only time he even thinks about it is when its starts to get in his eyes. It only happens every few decades, as his hair grows at the same rate that he ages....which is slow.

Like most people he likes ot have his hair played with, but there's something about that just really soothes him. A few gentle pets and he's off to sleep.

Your hair might be different in this life, but he still loves it. He remembers how you used to do it back on Philos, and always gets a little flustered when you do it similarly now.

One of his favorite activities is the little beauty rituals you do, and he's always quietly eager for you to ask him to join him. Quiet evenings after a long day where you put your and his hair up and slather your faces in some new mud mask that smells like roses or lemon. The little bunny headband that shows up next to yours in the bathroom drawer is there inescplicably. And the new set of hair clips. And the under eyes masks.

During those nights, he'll comb through your hair. Taking his time to meticulously untangle each and ever knot, working so slowly you never even feel a tug. It's ritualistic. It's worship.

Zayne:

He's not too picky about his hair, but he likes to keep it groomed. A haircut every three months is mandatory, and he's been seeing the same barber since he was young. There's no fuss or frill to it, just practicality. He can't have crazyu hair products or unruly hair while in the OR.

While he's not vain, he does take some pride in his appearance, and messing up his hair can sometimes irk him a bit. Not enough to remark back, but enough to cup your fac in his hands and give your cheeks a soft pinch. A low warning about ruffling your hair too if need be. He'd never actually do it, but its fun to him to see the little pout on your face.

Your hair is a different story to him. Like other parts of you, its an integral perfect part fo you. The color of it sticking so firmling in his mind that a flash of it out the corner of his eye will have his heart skipping a beat. Constantly in search of you.

When you're together, he likes when its down. He understand that hunters need their hair up most of the time, so it's nice to see you in this way. Like a special treat, just for him.

He'll softly run his hands through it. Tender, tiny touches, never rustling more than a few strands at a time. Whether you're watching a movie, or sitting and working near each other, he'll find some way to fiddle with it. Tucking some out of your face. Adjusting an errant strand. Something.

Rafayel:

The most particular about his hair than the rest of the boys, but by no means fussy. Though compared to others he can be. His hair is used to water, and so can dry out easily. He struggled for a long time to maintain it-- inexplicable frizz and split ends arising enough to make him want to just cut it.

But if looked different...if he cut it, how would you recognize him? A bitter part of him hissed that you weren't here. That this life was one to live without you. But that hopeful part of him....that yearning ember that burned with the vow he made, held onto the hope too tightly.

So he kept his hair as close as he could to what it had been before. To the other times he'd been luck enough to meet you.

Once he's gotten a reputation as a painter and has a public persona, Thomas helps him. Sends him to a stylist who regularly douses him in deep conditioner and oil treatments.

It's a pain, but tolerable. Like most things.

When you come back to him, you take over his haircare. He insists. You set up in his oversized bathroom and help him figure out the deep conditioner. MAssaging his scalp and doting on him.

He's melting sugar in your palm, too spoiled to find anything to complain when you've got your fingers in his hair. It becomes a vice of his. A little ruffle or a pet and his breathing stutters.

He finds hair care for your hair too. A conditioner or clarifying treatment, insisting you take part in the ritual he's subjected to. Only he won't let you put it on yourself- even though you can.

He lingers. Running his fingers through your hair far longer than necessary.

After waiting for so long, any touch is too short. Every moment of contact is prolonged to its absolute length.

Sylus:

He's a man of particular tastes, but has a hard time trusting people. So he can't exactly go to a barber. Letting someone near his neck with scissors or worse a razor? No thanks.

He cuts his own hair, with the help of his evol and a few mirrors. It's taken him a while to figure it out, but it'll do.

He's the one who likes his hair being played with the lost, will go so far as to ask for it. At first its a taunt, a playful jab at you to see if you get flustered at the request.

You're surprised by how quickly he melts when you start touching him. Runing your fingers through his soft silver hair until he's practically purring.

Its a dangerous activity for him, because more often than not he ends with his head in your lap and on the brink of sleep. Unable to stop himself from sinking into the delicious feeling of your warm touch, and the reassuring hum from the linkage.

Since he's one to spoil you, anything you want for your hair is yours to have. A new haircare regimine? Ordered. New hair appliance? 1-Day Shipping. A personal stylist? Done.

[taelophone]

Bitter ʚɞ ⸝⸝⟡⋆˙⟡ — Luigi Mangione x Reader ⋆⭒˚｡⋆TWs: Liquor . Jealousy . Annoying/Disrespectful friends . ｡⋆A/N: A lil palate cleanser before I gear up to write the most filthy creation to hit my table <3

You made a conscious effort every day to be the best version of yourself, biting your tongue, minimizing conflict, and stepping into your bigger shoes whenever you felt yourself nearing slipping off the chain.

But it was hard when your boyfriend was so highly regarded— attractive in all his right and kind enough to keep men and women orbiting him in silent lovelorn. It was hard to stay calm and collected when it seemed like every other day there was a new woman begging for a slice of his confectionery attention.

Luigi, however, was none the wiser. Every new face with a warm smile pulled a fresh coat of hospitality, his arms stretched wide with welcome to every face that seemed to spark interest.

There’s nothing wrong with being friendly, really. But there’s only a certain amount of flirty comments and forced physical interaction you can witness before the bitter citrus burns your parotids.

Like now.

You had dragged your homebody boyfriend out for the day, claiming a need for oxygen and socialization in the form of what was supposed to be an intimate little get-together between you and a couple of your friends. What you hadn’t expected was for friends to bring other friends.

Not that you were mad! After all, the more the merrier. What started as a small house chill became a quiet gathering for drinks and charcuterie, courtesy of Helena’s last-minute catering cancellation. 

The issue began to bubble to the surface when one girl, in particular, began to take a sudden interest in your boyfriend. At first, you dismissed it, recognizing that your boyfriend was a rather interesting individual.

So instead of fussing and pouting, you chose to remove yourself from the situation before it boiled over. Your faith lay in Luigi, trusting him enough to know he would never shatter that faith.

But it still stung.

The blaring buzz of bitter envy sounded through your ears like a bunch of barmy bees. The light tap of her backhand on Luigi’s shoulder, her eyes sharp on the man in front, fixated on the goal of love.

“No! Oh my gosh, no! That’s not true, you’re literally so strong. Like, I can see your muscles,” she gasped, pinching the side of his bicep with feigned disapproval woven in her flattery.

The first crack in your resolve. Porcelain, but far from perfect.

“Haha, yeah, uh—? Sorry, I think I lost my girlfriend..?” He said, frantically whirling his head around the kitchen in search of your familiar silhouette. 

“Aw, you ditching me? Runnin’ off to your ball n’ chain?” She mused, paired with a chuckle that seemed way too enthusiastic to be anything less than what she thought was the truth.

“Ha…haha, no. I just really miss my girlfriend” he chuckled. Breathy and uncomfortable, a clear warning sign of nearing his limit. “But it was nice talking to you!”

“Of course! Find me later, I’ll give you my number. I’d love to talk more” she offered with a pat on his broad shoulder.

And with that, he fought back a mildly confused arch of his brow before traversing through the sea of people in pursuit of you. What a strange experience…at least she’s friendly.

He shimmied his way through the hallway, taking a brief moment to admire the little intricate archway connecting the kitchen and the living room. It was a warm Tuscan brown, perfectly made with a nice round arch—nice.

He found you a couple of feet away from the kitchen, arms crossed in defiance with a hefty glass of some white wine you had been swirling around in its brandy balloon. A warm smile engulfed his features as he sat down next to you, one that was quick to fade when he felt the icy cold aura that radiated from your stone face.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, pinching his brows together with innocent confusion.

You sighed, a puppeteered smile creeping up on your face; one that failed to meet your eyes with venomous twinkles. 

“Nothing. Totally fine,” you huffed, rolling your eyes as far as they could go in such a short amount of time.

“No, c’mon, don’t do that…” he said, a flicker of desperation and annoyance crossing his features.

“Go talk to Mindy, maybe she’ll help you understand what’s wrong” you blurted, sharp and pointed with intent to harm.

He sighed, putting down his little can of beer on the coffee table. An elbow came to rest on his knee, propping up his head by his chin as he stared at you.

He was never really the type of man who liked beating around the bush and much less when people around him did it, but he was making an effort for you. With open ears and a heart full of affection, he tutted his disapproval but tugged you closer to him by your shoulders.

“Oh, my jealous baby…” he cooed, a cocky grin forming on his face as he sweet-talked you into cavities. “So worked up…did I make you jealous? I’m sorry, my love.”

“Stop that…” you huffed, leaning away from his touch with crossed arms.

“You poor thing must’ve been so lonely without your terrible wretched boyfriend,” he teased, wrapping both arms around you and pulling you into his lap to pepper gentle kisses to your head.

“I’m…” Kiss! “So…” smooch! “Evil!” Smack! “How will you ever forgive me?”

“Luigi, stop!” You breathed out in between quiet giggles, pink bubbly bashfulness bubbling under your cheeks as he garnered the many sympathetic and supportive eyes of people around you. “You’re making a scene!”

“I’m not afraid to show my wife I love her” he fired back with a wet and almost grotesque kiss to your neck that would have sent the average child into a spiral of gags and barfs.

“Okay, okay, enough!” You laughed, pushing his wandering lips away from your neck and jaw. “I forgive you!”

“Good. ‘Cuz you’re the only one I have eyes for here. Sorry I made you feel jealous, I didn’t know how to shake her off me” he smiled.

And the night carried on with the clinking of wine glasses, sports banter piloted by 5 ex-frat boys with lopsided caps, kisses and smooches from the lovebirds, and occasional grumbles from a very grumpy, stood-up Mindy.

[nomie-11]

Street Racer!Vi x F1 Driver!Reader - VI

masterlist!

Vi felt like she was way out of her league. Formula 1 was a whole new world outside of her little bubble of street racing and fast cars. 

Your blue and white Hextech Racing race suit was a stark contrast to her leather jacket and cargo boots, and it seemed like everyone she passed by in the paddock stared at her like she had stolen her VIP pass (not that she blamed them, Vi had a face tattoo and a pink undercut that never looked perfectly clean). 

Vi tugged at the lanyard around her neck, feeling a little out of place among the rich, polished rows of the Formula 1 paddock. The chatter of engineers, the hiss of air guns, and the low hum of the engines created an atmosphere that was entirely foreign to her. She was used to the smell of burning rubber in back alleys and dingy garages covered in oil and grease, not high-tech pits and champagne bottles that probably cost more than her rent. 

And then there was you. 

You stood by your car, laughing with your race engineer—Viktor, a Zaunite who just happened to be a genius, as you said—as you adjusted your gloves, exuding a confidence that had Vi completely mesmerized. Your Hextech Racing suit hugged your frame perfectly, and the way you carried yourself screamed that you belonged here—on the world's biggest stage for racing. 

When your eyes finally met hers, you broke into a grin, passing a quick goodbye to Viktor before jogging over as if she wasn’t standing there awkwardly trying not to look like a lost tourist. 

“Vi!” You called, your voice cut trying through the noise. “You made it.”

“Of course I would make it,” her familiar confident smirk took place on her face despite her own racing heart. “It’s not everyday you get to see your girl in a Formula 1 car.”

You laughed, and Vi felt the familiar heat of a light blush dusting her cheeks. 

“I race almost every other weekend, Vi,” You grinned. “You could come any week.”

Vi shrugged, shoving her hands into her pockets to keep from fidgeting. “Yeah, well, your world’s a bit… shiny for me.” 

You tilted your head, giving her that knowing look that always made her feel like you could see right through her tough exterior. “Vi, you’ve literally stared down enforcers mid-race and didn’t even flinch. You think these people scare me more than you?”

“It’s not about them.” Vi’s gaze flicked around the paddock as though searching for the right words. “It’s just… I’m not exactly ‘team sponsor material.’” She made air quotes, her tattooed fingers curling as she gave an awkward, lopsided grin. 

You reached for her hand, ignoring the bustling engineers and photographers just a few steps away. “You’re my material, and that’s all that matters.” Your tone softened. “Besides, I kinda love seeing you here. Makes me feel like I’ve got a little piece of my world cheering me on.”

Vi ducked her head, her ears turning pink. She muttered something like “yeah, yeah, okay,” which you knew was her way of agreeing without getting all mushy in front of your pit crew. 

Just as you were about to slip on your helmet, you hesitated, turning back to her with a playful smile. “Wait. Kiss for luck?” 

Vi blinked, her brows shooting up. “What? Now? Here?” she gestured around. “Babe, there’s cameras everywhere!”

You pointed at the bottom line underneath your visor on the left side of the helmet, where the roman numeral VI was subtly embedded into the design, perfectly matching her own tattoo. “You’re seriously telling me you’re worried about a little PDA when I’ve got this on my helmet for the world to see?”

Her lips parted in surprise, her cheeks reddening. “That’s… cute as hell,” she muttered. 

“Damn right it is,” you teased, slipping your helmet on over your head and flicking up the visor so she could still see your eyes. “Now, kiss it. Like I do for you before every race.” 

Vi hesitated for a beat longer, glancing around the bustling paddock. But then she exhaled sharply, muttering something about how you always managed to get your way. Stepping closer, she cupped the sides of your helmet with her calloused hands and pressed a quick kiss to the top, her lips brushing over the crown of the helmet while her thumb lightly scraped over the VI on the side.

“Happy now?” she asked, the corners of her mouth twitching up in a smirk. 

“Ecstatic.” You grinned, slipping into the cockpit of your car. 

As the mechanics swarmed around, checking the final setups, Vi stepped back, folding her arms as she watched you settle in. She didn’t notice the flash of a camera in the distance or the way your team principal—a tall, buff guy named Jayce who Vi remembers you saying she would get along with—grinned knowingly. 

Later, when she saw the photo on your lockscreen—her kiss captured in perfect clarity—Vi groaned, burying her face in her hands. 

“You’re never letting me live this down, are you?”

“Nope,” you replied, grinning as you held up your phone. “Best lockscreen ever.”

-------

If you enjoyed this one shot, please check out my other series!

[epicmarrowbonesoup]

Headcannon that postcannon Charles doesnt like leaving Edwin alone for long streches of time.

You know the way he did in the beggining of the show, leaving Edwin alone so that Charles could be with Crystal or just giving Edwin space to be with other people(Monty or Niko). I think post-Hell Charles Rowland would feel uneasy about not having Edwin in his line of sight while at the same time not wanting to make a big deal out of it.

Like how in the last episode Edwin is alone and Charles leaves others to pack so he could check up on Edwin, that sort of thing. Or how he was hessitent to follow Crystals plan at first becouse he has to rescue(see) Edwin ( to me it also looks like Charles was so busy rushing to Edwin he didnt noitice Nikos body but that might just be me)

Anyways i think it would be a fun direction to take Charles's characther in. Considering in s1 he is already weary of Edwin spending time with the Cat King, youd get that whole jealousy thing but doubled and mixed in with his feeling of inadequacy as the brawn. But also s1 establishes Charles as being at least partially insecure about their bond: having to correct Edwin whenever Edwin says how Charles would move on quickly and constanty seeking reassurment from edwin about their friendship (ep 1 when he asks what would happen if death came, ep 4 with his fight with the night nurse, seeing Brad and Hunter the best friends as him and Edwin)

And then you also have the reversal of how Edwin was jealous of Charles spending lots of times with Crystal and now Charles is protesting every second Edwin isnt with him. And ofcourse Charles does it from a place of fear and love but Edwin would maybe interpret it the wrong way, who knows?

And, from what the writers have told us, Edwin in s2 spent at least some amount of time flirting with other men (hopefully without Charles lurking in the background) and from what we know from that one cameo Jayden and George did, there was a lot of tension between the boys...

Now im not a writer i didnt write the s2 script or anything, im not saying this is what would have happened in s2 but.... i think the tension might have come from that. From Charles seeing Hell as a traumatic expirience and his PTSD manifesting as his insistence on Edwin not leaving his side, Charles's insecurities and his fear of losing Edwin being at an all time high. While Edwin, who has learnd how to forget Hell, is acting as if nothing happened at all, exploring his sexuality and making new friends in the process.

It would make Charles confront all of the skeletons he's been hiding in the closet but also it would ask the simple question of why is Charles so insecure in their friendship? Why is he constantly mentioning them being best mates? Why does he need it so much? Why is he constantly searching from reassurences that they are best friends?

And for more angst, from Edwins point of view he is doing everything Charles wanted him to do in s1. Hes accepting and letting the dead boy detectives workplace to grow and change, he is being more open and friendlier, he is encouraging Charles friendship/relationship with Crystal and he is no longer playing trauma Olympics at the drop of a hat. So why is Charles so mad? Hes working through his shame and his supiriority complex, hes growing as a person and Charles is still stuck at the staircase.

[htaesan]

　ᅠ ✿　ᅠ IT’S THE THOUGHT THAT COUNTS　　────　ᅠ ( park sungho )

𝓹recis ⠀ : ⠀love, to park sungho, is just a waste of time. yet when he falls for you (literally), he might just change his mind.

　　　ᅠ 박성호 ⠀⠀◜◡◝ ⠀⠀𝒇 reader ⠀wc 1.7k ⠀ genre love at first sight fluff meet-cute baker / cafe au ⠀ contains mentions of food profanities ⠀ note my first fic here AND my first bnd work ever! sungho's just awkward in here kekeke (actually idk what i'm writing here) ⠀ tagging @a-dream-bookmark ,@/k-labels , @k-nets , @k-films , @sgz-net

　　　ᅠ ＞︿ 　　please leave feedbacks 　　& 　　reblog

Sungho wasn’t the type to easily fall in love. To him, love is a waste of time and money—why would you pour your heart, time, and effort out to someone who you won’t even spend the rest of your life with? All of his friends, from different points of his life, have tried various ways to get his heart hooked onto a girl. But, of course, none of their attempts proved successful. To everyone around Sungho, he’s just a cute guy with a heart of stone. 

However, after 20 years of letting Sungho decide for himself, the universe decided to catalyse the whole entire reaction for him—pushing the future love of his life into his face, right at his workplace, where he had only recently gotten a job at. 

Literally. 

“Oh my god…” 

You blink confusedly—one second ago, you were getting up from your seat to go grab the drinks the barista had prepared for you. Now, you’re on the floor, with lattes spilled over your clothes, and your back slightly aching from the impact. 

“What the f—oh my goodness, I’m so sorry,” Sungho says, scrambling to his feet. How could he be so stupid? Knocking a customer down and drenching the lattes in her hand all over her is certainly going to ruin his perfect reputation. Quickly, Sungho reaches out his hand, offering it to you. 

You look up, eyes widened. Was this handsomely cute guy the one who pushed you to the floor, having both of your drinks soaking your clothes? You blink again, perplexed, as you try to take in the situation. 

“Oh, yes,” you mumble, taking his hand, realising that people are watching. 

“I’m really, really sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean to–” 

“It’s okay,” you say through your polite smile. As you steady yourself, you look down on your outfit and realise that it is certainly… not. 

Sungho watches you analyse the situation of your latte-drenched clothes with eyes widened in horror. He panickedly searches for napkins in his apron and his pockets, and hands you a crumpled one he’s found in his pocket. “Here.” 

You give him a chuckle. “It won’t really help a lot but,” you pause, grabbing the napkin from him, “it’s the thought that counts, hm?”

Bingo. 

As you smile, tingles rush through Sungho’s skin. He’s suddenly hyper aware of how his arm is still extended awkwardly, long after you’ve received the napkin. His eyes blink forcedly as he retracts his hand. Sungho gulps, weirdly feeling faint.  

“Well,” you chuckle sheepishly. “It’s getting awkward—I should go back to my table. Thanks for the napkin,” your eyes look at the name tag pinned to his apron, “Sungho.”

You give him one final smile before walking away, oblivious to Sungho’s tongue-tied state. 

“Yo, Sungho,” he hears Dongmin, the barista, call. “Are you gonna just stand there or what? The mess ain’t gonna clean itself, you know.”

Sungho then burst himself out of his daze, scurrying to clean up the mess, ignoring the eyes of people in the cafe. As he’s mopping the final traces of the homemade tomato sauce off the floor, his eyes catch a glimpse of you—laughing angelically, illuminated by the sunlight shining through the window. 

That was two weeks ago. And Sungho is desperately trying to get rid of this fluttering in his empty stomach, one that he feels every single time his brain replays the scene in his mind. 

Love is a waste of time, he repeats to himself like a daily mantra. 

However, Sungho knows that repeating that isn’t doing anything to combat the fact that his cheeks are heating up every single time he sees you walk into the cafe. And, certainly, hiding behind the fresh baskets of bread he baked this morning and eavesdropping on you ordering your menu for the day isn’t a really good solution, either. 

“What the hell, Sungho?” Dongmin hisses. “You almost hit me!”

Sungho smiles sheepishly. “Sorry, Min.”

“Welcome to The Boy Next Door. Good morning, Y/N,” Sungho’s attention is pulled to Donghyun, the part-time barista, who’s greeting you. You smile back, leaning against the counter as you think of what to get for the day. 

“Good morning, Donghyun,” you nod. 

“What’s the occasion today? Assignments or an online meeting that you can’t be bothered to take at home?” Donghyun asks, giggling. 

You laugh with him. “I need a quick brunch—I have a nail appointment after this. What do you suggest?”

Maybe it’s the love hormones, or maybe it’s the fact that Sungho’s completely bewitched for you—he stands upright, eyes staring straight at you. Without hesitation, he voices, “you should try the Mushroom Cream Pasta—it’s my own recipe.”

Regret flushes through Sungho as your eyes widen with surprise. “O-oh! Sungho, I didn’t see you there,” you say with a fond look that makes Sungho’s heart pump even faster than it already is. 

“Sungho… what are you doing?” Donghyun questions. 

“I…” 

Cover this up quickly, you idiot. 

Sungho gives you a small grin. “Well, I just heard that you wanted a brunch… idea? So, I gave you one!”

You laugh, and it hits Sungho right in the heart. “Alright, I’ll take one of the Mushroom Cream Pasta,” you tell Donghyun, who nods in response.  

“You’ll be cooking it for me, right, Sungho?”

Yes, ma’am. 

And that’s how Sungho found himself in the kitchen, eagerly yet nervously cooking up a pasta dish for the girl he’s somehow grown shy of. As he’s tossing the ingredients together, Sungho thinks about your laughter—how angelic he finds it, and how it makes your eyes crinkle so cutely. As he’s grating the cheese into the pan of pasta, Sungho’s reminded of his “meet-cute” with you—how cool you sounded when you shrugged off his frantic apologies, instead of getting worked up about it like some other customers do. As he’s carefully plating the dish with rather shaky hands, Sungho confirms to himself—he might just have a tiny crush on you: one of The Boy Next Door’s loyal customers. Cupid’s cheering in the background—his arrows had hit the target, exactly where it’s needed: right at Park Sungho’s heart.

“Here… you go,” Sungho manages with a small voice. He stands rigidly at your table, his arms tightly kept next to his body. He forces a polite smile, secretly wishing that you wouldn’t notice his nervousness. 

“Are you usually this awkward… or is it just me?” you ask, laughing at how wide his eyes get at your question. 

Sungho quickly shakes his head. “No! Certainly not, I’m not… usually... awkward…”

You laugh again. “Well, then it’s just me.” 

If it were totally up to Sungho, he’d love to just take a seat in front of you and watch you eat. However, the universe isn’t totally on his side, so he excuses himself to go tend to another customer’s order. 

“Hey, man,” Dongmin says, catching Sungho’s attention. He looks up from the salmon sandwich he’s constructing. “Is it just me or you’re just weirdly obsessed with that girl by the window?” 

Sungho’s eyes widen in surprise, and he gives a train of awkward laughs. “What? No… what are you talking about?”

No, you know what he’s talking about.

“Dude, even a five year old can catch up on it,” Dongmin rolls his eyes. He ruffles his hair before continuing. “You better shoot your shot before it’s too late—I think she’s just waiting for you to ask at this point.”

“Huh?” Sungho says, handing the finished plate to Lia, another coworker who passed by. 

“Are you really dense or what?” Dongmin replies, laughing. He pats Sungho’s shoulder before signalling towards you. “Y/N, right? Just go tell her you like her.”

Flabbergasted, Sungho freezes. His eyes widen in realisation, and everything starts to kick in. 

He actually likes someone.

He likes you. 

Dongmin is just teasing him, trying to get him to like you—however, little did he know that this isn’t a simple tease that Sungho would ignore. 

“It’s a fucking wake up call,” Sungho mutters to himself. “I… finally like someone.”

However, being a man with no experience of approaching a girl he likes, Sungho remains at his post, arranging freshly baked pastries as he waits for you to finish your meal and pass by him when you walk out of the cafe. 

“Sungho!” you exclaim, rushing towards him. 

“Yeah?” he replies, breathless somehow. 

You smile shyly. “Thanks for the meal—I mean, for cooking it. It’s really good! I love it.”

Sungho mirrors your smile. “You do?” he laughs, “oh—oh my God! I- that’s such a relief! I really– I really thought it’d be horrible or something, you know, I’m afraid I accidentally put in sugar instead of salt, and sour cream instead of the normal one… you know?”

You nod, still smiling. “It’s really good, Sungho. I’d eat it again next time I need brunch.”

“Of course! Yeah, yeah. Of… course,” Sungho nods, eyes darting here and there. 

“Also, may I ask you something?” you continue. 

Sungho tilts his head as he narrows his eyes a little. “Sure, of course.”

Taking a deep breath, you say, “did I… do something wrong? To you? ‘Cause all you’ve been doing these past couple of weeks is avoiding me whenever I come in…”

Sungho sucks his breath through gritted teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose. He exhales heavily before replying. “Are you… willing to hear me out?”

“Yeah, of course,” you nod. “Make it quick though, I have a nail appointment soon..”

“So, this is really really awkward—’cause we’re talking in the middle of the cafe, and I’m holding bread tongs as I’m speaking—I told my friends for the past twenty years that I’d never fall in love, and that love is a waste of my time but then I kinda fell in love and I would absolutely love it if you gave me the honour of becoming your boyfriend,” Sungho says, in one go, without taking a breath in between his words.

“Oh.” is all you’re able to manage. 

“So,” Sungho gives you a smile. “I know the… first impression isn’t great but I could make your second impression of me better?”

You laugh, giving him a napkin that you’ve neatly folded into a heart and written your phone number on it earlier. “Actually, it’s the third impression. And of course, feel free to make it better than the pasta you made me just now.”

― © htaesan, 2025.

[naturistgirl]

NAKED SNOW WALKING AND THE BIRCH MOON

The first new moon after the Winter Solstice has various names. Some call it the Ice Moon, others the Snow Moon. Here in the High Pennines the snow has been plentiful and deep. The weather feels exceptionally icy. Here in the Britain however it is rarely ever far below freezing. We have a mild climate compared to say, Continental Europe or the Northern States. It's a great time for naturism!

We headed up to the Wild Wood on January 6th. It was an invigorating walk, uphill. We walked briskly, we had to! Walking clothes free when it is this cold is a very different experience to textile walking. In the depths of Winter, people tend to layer and muffle up. True, all those clothes DO keep you warm when sedentary; layers trap body heat. However, as you exercise, particularly when walking briskly, things are very different. Muffled up in layers, you rapidly slow down as you overheat, carrying the burden of heavy clothing. Naked, you walk briskly, unencumbered by the weight of clothes. You don't want to stop or slow down and your naked body soon acclimatises to the cold. Stepping out and climbing the hill to the wood felt refreshing, invigorating and ever so free!

The wild, wooded hills around here were once heavily mined for coal and yellow clay to make bricks. The industry left its scars for a while, even after it had gone. Nature will always reassert itself and soon, woodland returned. The countryside began to recover. One of the first trees to regenerate is birch. The Wild Wood has older trees, mainly oak, but around it's fringes, birch and alder predominate. On snowy days like this, the silvery bark of birch shines like a beacon. It isn't a long lived tree. The soil is thin and rocky here. Birch often succumbs to the ravages of winter storms. Birch has a more human life span than other trees; 80 would be a good age for a mature specimen. This tree is nonetheless a hardwood and has long been used for all manner of beneficial things.

Birch, being the first tree to grow back after devastation, has a connection to birth and new life. Baby's cradles were made from birch wood and the tree is deeply associated with fertility, renewal and re-birth. Birch twigs make good broomsticks, perfect for a clean sweep of your house at the start of the year. Cattle were herded with a bunch of birch twigs which was also thought to ensure fertility. When birch grows again in Spring, its delicate pale green leaves are heart shaped. The sap of the birch tree is also used to make a delightful wine. Britain's Queen Victoria was said to have been very fond of it!

We made our way to the very summit of the Wild Wood. Here, the woodland is denser and criss-crossed by little paths. Holly shines green and glossy amid the larger trees. There are also larch, oak, ash and sycamore. Out on the sheep pasture beyond, sheep were scraping at the snow, searching for grass. We walked the wood but saw nobody. There was only one other set of prints on the previous night's snow. We stopped to take the photographs which we have shared in this blog. Thank you to Mart, my loving husband for these. He adores naturism every bit as much as me.

The ground temperature was low and I was glad of my pink wellingtons with two layers of socks. My green wool beanie (thank you sheep) was a must; most of the heat you lose is from your head. We hope you find our photographs inspiring.

It would be lovely to see other's photographs of their own naked snow hikes. We look forward to seeing your posts. Tumblr has way too many endlessly recycled photos of naked young women on summer beaches! Give it a rest. The promotion of naturism needs contemporary photos of yourselves, enjoying your local environment as nature intended. why not write as well, describing what you do. Non-sexual nudity should, and does represent, all manner of body shapes and types. You are never too old to walk naked. You were born this way.

We receive lots of messages of affirmation from likeminded naturists. Thank you so much. I also receive some flattering yet less suitable comments and requests from others who are; how shall I put it? - not exactly passionate about naturism, more about sexy naked ladies! Let's face it, who isn't? Sex is great and I love it. It isn't however the focus of this blog.

My purpose in writing this, is to inspire you to your own naturist activities. So while it is gratifying to have you send photos of one tiny part of yourself, please don't. Most of these messages come from Tumblrs who follow hundreds of others yet are entirely empty with no avatars. Sadly, I have come to realise that these accounts are best blocked, no offence. We do welcome messages of support however as well as photographs of your own naturist jaunts and hikes. So if you want to follow me and have me follow back, post an avatar which is actually you and some real pictures of yourself in your blog. Message and tell me what motivates you to naturism! OK?

Stay naked!

Jane xx

[fuck-you-upmusicbracket]

Against the Kitchen Floor (Will Wood)

And I swear! I will die trying!/I'm still in the process, but I'm making progress; I promise I honestly wanna prove improvement's possible, I swear!/I'm so fucking sorry! I'm not a good person, I'm barely a person at all, But someday I'll be perfect, and I'll make up for it all!

Less rare than scarce, less diamond then rough/Unlikely to be more than just the coal you failed to crush

I'm catatonic in your arms, crying, "How did I cause so much harm?"/I'm down pounding my head against the kitchen floor/Apologizing for my life and ever entering yours

The vertex of my redemption arc/I’m searching on that virgin heart

"The raw emotion! And I strongly relate to desperately wanting to improve for someone you love. I belt out this song when I feel really hopeless"

"my one OC. also me. also it's just a really good song. one of will's best imo. screaminbg"

"Literally hits almost all of my self-esteem issues. Feeling like people only care about you for your body? Check. Not understanding why anyone would want you? Check. Thinking that all you do is hurt people? Check. I don't cry very often but this song DEFINITELY made me teary"

"one of those if u aren’t paying attention to the lyrics ur like this is nice but once u hear them its an OW holy OW and guilt and I’m sorry feelings"

"Just. Loving someone but not feeling like you’re good enough and trying to improve."

"Not only does this song have lyrics that are deeply relatable to me, but this song also feels very deeply personal to the artist and I feel that anyone who listens to it for the first time has that same feeling of getting punched in the gut. Just the lyrics and the melody and Will Wood’s vocals make this song an absolute masterpiece and I cry every time I hear it."

"One reason I'm attached to this song is because my friend sent it to me and said "I'm kin assigning you this song" and ruined my life (/j) It messed me up because I've always had a hard time in my life figuring myself out and dealing with my emotions, and for what feels like the first time, this song has been able to near perfectly describe how I feel about myself and my impact on other people, and it always just meant so much to me that my friend who sent it to me knows me better than I know myself and shared the song with me and I love them dearly."

Fast Car (Tracy Chapman)

You got a fast car, I want a ticket to anywhere/Maybe we make a deal, maybe together we can get somewhere/Any place is better, starting from zero got nothing to lose/Maybe we'll make something, me myself I got nothing to prove

So I remember when we were driving, driving in your car/Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk/City lights lay out before us/ And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder/And I-I, had a feeling that I belonged

You got a fast car/Is it fast enough so we can fly away?/We gotta make a decision/Leave tonight or live and die this way

"I know it's an obvious one but YOU try playing it without crying I dare you"

"I cant explain the yearning but this makes me howl"

"OH GOD the longing!! The yearning in the recurring central image of the narrator and her lover on the highway, feeling this sense of limitless possibility and incredible hope!!! And then the verses take us with brutal efficiency through the collapse of their marriage, the way that the cycle of poverty stomps down on their hopes, and how with nothing left, the narrator does what her mom did and leaves!! Leaving the kids to experience the same thing she did growing up!! But it’s all punctuated and bookended by these callbacks to that central iconic memory of hope!!!!! But by the end we realize that the last line “leave tonight or live and die this way” offers only the illusion of a choice: when the narrator first runs away and later when she leaves her husband and kids, she’s still fulfilling her role in this cyclical generational story. God!!"

Against the Kitchen Floor submitted by @pixopolis + others

Fast Car submitted by @smallboyonherbike + @uchihasasukeofficial + @all-our-exploring

[leashybebes]

i think the reason i am so obsessed with tommy is like... okay, prefacing all of this with "much of this is head canon/extrapolation from canon/my standard over identification with fictional characters. i don't expect other folks to see him the same way". also, as i wrote this i was like "huh, pretty sure i've said this before in slightly different words" so feel free to keep scrolling in search of an original thought i guess lol

i love to love. i love to look after people. i love to give them affection. i love to do things that broadcast loud and clear "hey! hey you! i care about you!" i have always struggled with letting people do the same for me. if anything was going to derail my current relationship early on, it would have been that - without intending to, i take away people's agency by not giving them opportunities to do those things for me. it's a fucked up way to be - to give and give and give, and to stop other people from giving back. it creates an imbalance, an inequality, that means a relationship is not going to last, and if it does last, it'll be bad.

i keep gnawing at a line in a wip i have about tommy post-breakup meeting a new guy and thinking that he likes the guy's sharp edges and that he didn't give buck a chance to show any sharp edges because they spent six months having amazing sex and Being Cute. he was Doing Boyfriend Things. and i don't think it was fake, as such. but i think it was surface. he gave affection and he gave care, and you can give all of those things without every really giving anything of yourself.

i think, given the chance, buck would have been a great partner to tommy. but i don't think, based on what we saw, that he was given that chance. he was given the chance for a soft landing into his first (apparently unexamined) queer relationship. he was given the chance to be adored and to be a little demanding and a little bratty. he was given the chance to be looked after. just going on what we've seen on screen, it doesn't look like he was given the chance to be a partner.

so maybe it wasn't just that tommy thought buck needed/would want to explore other options somewhere down the line (and here's where we veer into head canon territory) but maybe it was that that weird ass conversation made him think - oh, he doesn't see me. oh, i've been here before. and maybe he's been there with someone less adorable than buck. someone who was more intentional about taking and taking, someone who didn't or wouldn't have given back, given the chance. and he knows how that ends. it ends with giving more and more of yourself, and getting less and less back. it ends with someone you thought you loved barely seeing you at all, it ends with you being Someone's Boyfriend. it ends with "tommy? who? yeah, that guy's boyfriend, right?" because you've made yourself into a source of someone else's comfort and security and you look down and realise there's nothing underneath your feet. it ends with resentment that you don't feel like you deserve to feel because you can't be mad that they don't take care of you when you've never showed them that you need taking care of.

so i think that's the tragedy of it for me. it really would have worked - if tommy was able to take. if buck was given a chance to give. there's not anyone to blame, unless you want to go through their lives and their histories and find the things and the people who made them the people who they are.

[flightfoot]

ML Fanfic Recs for Completed Fics 7K - 10K Words

Only 12 fics for this category, there are generally fewer fics the higher the wordcount you look at.

All of these fics will be in my Keyseeker's Choices For Best Completed Miraculous Fics Of 2024 Collection, and if you like that, please consider checking out my other collections, Keyseeker's Choices For Best Completed Miraculous Fics Of 2023, Keyseeker's Choices For Best Completed Miraculous Fics Of 2022, and Keyseeker's Choices For Best Completed Miraculous Fics - Misc. Years.

Valentine Surprise by choppa01

Adrien had the perfect plan for spending Valentine's Day with Marinette. Unfortunately Chat Noir has the worst luck when it comes to keeping to the plan. But it all works out in the end, right? Right?

This is adorable. Chat Noir keeps running into people who need help on Valentine's Day and sacrificing his own plans in order to help others. Luckily, all is not lost, even if everything he set up for his date is.

---

Run Amok by @mirrankei

The more time a sentibeing spends away from their amok, the weaker that connection becomes. In time the magic of the amok, desperate to keep that connection, will move to an item that the senti is closer to. Adrien's amok is empty, and Felix and Duusu are on a frantic search to find the new item before someone else can get their hands on it. Without letting Adrien know any of this is going on, of course.

I really loved the concept of this fic, with the Amok moving, and seeing Felix's perspective was a treat! Especially with which item he suspected held the Amok. The senticousins' dynamic is always interesting to watch.

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every wall that I knock down (is just a wall i'll replace) by @purplecatghostposts

Now it’s Félix’s turn. Adrien needs to know about his own existence before anything else and Félix wanted to have that conversation himself. Marinette didn’t argue when he told her as much. If anything, she seemed slightly relieved. Félix has been meaning to do it for a long time. Adrien had been at risk if he said anything before, not to mention it felt cruel to tell him when he would still have to bend to his father’s orders until the rings were retrieved. But Adrien wears his own amoks now, making his own choices with no one forcing him to do any of it. All physical risks are out of the way. Félix only needs to break it to him. The problem is that it never seems to actually be the right moment. (Or Post Season 5, Félix finally has the chance to tell Adrien about both of them being sentibeings and their family history. He’s not quite sure why his words keep failing him whenever he tries though.)

I love the analysis of Felix's thoughts and feelings about being a sentibeing, the psychological hangups that are preventing him from telling Adrien everything. I especially like how he doesn't even seem to realize HIMSELF what his problem is. Few people are able to really understand why they're reacting the way they are, why they feel the way they do, without either some deep examination or talking to someone.

---

sub-in by @purplecatghostposts

Wordlessly, Adrien slips the ring off his finger and offers it with an outstretched hand. Félix stares at it for a long moment, knowing in an instant what it is but processing what it means. “You can’t be serious.” Félix blurts out at last. Adrien, the traitor, can no longer fight the grin that stretches across his face. “Completely.” (Or Félix was still getting used to Adrien being Chat Noir, but now he must take on the performance of a lifetime and become Chat Noir. It’s more stressful than it sounds. Takes place in Season 2 of a Félix Joins Early AU.)

I loved seeing Felix's and Adrien's relationship here, they act a lot like siblings XD. Adrien's just a ray of sunshine while Felix is a grumpy cat, though he loves Adrien dearly. I love seeing Felix try out the catsuit, and also realize how VERY close his cousin is with Ladybug - and how good a sense she has for him. He's a good actor, but he didn't have time to fully study up on this role.

---

Rhododendrons by @buggachat

“These are your apology flowers?” “Yes,” he whispered. “They’re very pretty,” she said quietly, staring down at them, “But they’re not good for apologies.” “Oh, yeah?” he breathed. “They mean ‘danger’,” she said, raising a brow at him. — Marinette had always been so patient with Adrien when it came to matters of his father. She understood that he struggled to say 'no', that he was trying his best. She always made it clear that she loved him anyway. But even she had her limits. Her trust in him was wearing thin. Good, he couldn't help but think, standing at her front door with his father whispering into his earpiece. She shouldn't trust me.

Classic "Gabriel recruits Adrien to help him deal with Ladybug, taking advantage of his possession of Adrien's Amoks to ensure he has no choice" fic here! Buggachat's writing is as visceral as ever, you can really feel Adrien's misery at this situation.

---

Regardless of Perfection by @aidanchaser

Marinette rejects Adrien's proposal; he can't understand what he did wrong.

I love this look into how Adrien would respond if Marinette freaked out and rejected him, seemingly out of nowhere, because he tried to propose using one of his parent's wedding rings. He'd have no clue why she freaked out, and the way it would make him feel... it's not good. Luckily, Felix is there to help straighten things out!

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forever (and a little bit) by @rainbow-arrow

Now the world was out of tune. It was messy and blurry and Luka could not fathom waking up tomorrow and accepting his new life. He had less than nothing. How could he care about anything when the better half of his melody was replaced with silence. --- see also: Luka's villain origin story

This is a tragedy, don't go into it expecting a happy ending. Adrien breaks up with Marinette because he's upset over her lying to him about his father's fate and not telling him he's a sentimonster, and gradually becomes closer to Luka instead, first as a friend and later as a lover. There are fragments of story from the future that let you know this love story isn't going to last...

It's rated M, though I think that's mostly because of Adrien's injuries. I can see why it's M rated, but I think most teens should be fine reading this.

---

I'd Do Anything For $20 (To Feel More In Control) by @shroomifiy

Bee!Nathaniel AU one shot (because I think he's silly teehee) Nathaniel hated keeping secrets, especially from someone he cared about. But unfortunately, it's not up to him to decide that. Marc feels hurt from Nathaniel's actions. He just wants his boyfriend to be honest with him. Hawkmoth is a bitch ass motherfucker. Enough said.

Fun Nathmarc fic here! I love seeing Nathaniel's interactions with Pollen, and him cope with the strain on his relationship with needing to run off all the time to go fight akumas with only the flimsiest of excuses. He loves Marc deeply, as deeply as Marc loves him. But Marc's getting suspicious and wondering what's going on, and Nathaniel doesn't think he can tell him.

---

the monster who loves you by @purplecatghostposts

Mum nods, clapping her hands together. “Your brother is finally feeling better and is coming home today! Isn’t that so exciting?” Félix pauses mid-bite, processing her words. Mum waits expectantly, as if expecting him to jump for joy, or his equivalent of it. But… Félix doesn’t have a brother. (Or Félix’s brother is a monster, but only in the most literal sense. Félix’s father is a monster despite being very, very human. He learns to navigate the world through these two truths.)

I loved how this story emphasized the differences between different kinds of monsters - the type who inhabit horror stories, who look terrifying, and the mundane, human sorts of monsters who are often the most dangerous. And how monsters can choose to act humanely, while humans can choose to act monstrously.

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so say my name - and every color illuminates by katrinette

When an akuma hits Chat and turns him into an actual cat, Marinette can't just leave him on the streets overnight. She takes him home with her. But a cat might overhear any number of things he's not supposed to know...

I love this trope. Thankfully for Marinette, Chat retains his mind in cat form, so he's pretty cooperative. It also means that he remembers everything he sees and hears as a cat though, which is bad for secret identities, but great for their relationship.

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Adrien's Wingman Plans Failed Successfully by @mexicancat-girl

Adrien’s going insane. His friends Nathaniel and Marc were so obviously in love with each other, but no one else seemed to see it. Well, that was gonna change! Adrien was now their number one wingman and will get those two comic-making boys to confess and kiss one another! Thankfully, he had Luka to help him along the way, even if the other boy insisted he should stop meddling.

This fic's great if you need something cute and wholesome! Adrien's a bit OOC (he's not nearly this oblivious or perky in the show), but this version of him is still a lot of fun. He seriously manages to have no clue how hard he's clearly crushing on Luka, even while Luka's actively trying to date him.

---

Chat's Discovery by hislittlelady

On patrol, Chat Noir stumbles upon Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She’s been missing for six months and now she’s got a secret: something to protect, something far more valuable than her secret identity.

So Marinette's secret identity got exposed, and she had to go on the run as a consequence. Luckily Chat found her, because taking care of this particular secret on her own would be... let's say, unsafe. Adrien's about ready to murder his father by the time he finds out everything.

[thiccpersonality]

5 Times Bruce Was Protective of His Pups (+2 Times They Were Protective of Him)

3: The Search

Not many people recall their childhoods (for the most part), let alone what happens in it, nor would anyone expect a child to so easily remember things from their lives as they are in the process of living it...but, Timothy Jackson Drake isn't just any person or child. That's what his mother says at least, or...that was something she said to him in the days that her and father paid him any mind. Nowadays Tim finds it difficult to get their attention if he isn't being useful to them in some way, and even then...

Anyway! Tim just wishes he knew what exactly he did wrong and where he messed their relationship up.

He wants to go back to the days where his mom held him in her arms and cooed to him about how precious he is to her. He desires to receive fond looks from his dad in the way he used to when he was three and running around their home.

Now.

Now Tim is stuck on his own and spiraling on what to do.

Things the neglect started to happen slowly: his mom or dad sending him off whenever he tried to get their attention while working, their personal time together slowly being replaced by toys and trinkets that he was excited to get at the time because they were a symbol of his parents love for him, his parents hiring more babysitters for him instead of finding time to just simply...be with him. Which is why Tim has started to chase off every and any caretaker that comes to his parents million dollar home. Every expensive toy and gadget spent on him is now thrown violently against the walls or floors in a desperate plea for attention, it's all he wants, it's all he's asking for...and that's not much, is it? 

"Timothy, please just-"

The nanny grunts in pain as she's hit harshly in the nose by a six year old Tim, the boy disregarding any guilt or shame he has for taking his anger out on the caregivers, most of them are good people...he just needs to use them to get his parents attention again. The woman steps back in shock, raising a hand to feel her nose and wincing at the blood she feels dripping from it, that's it! She can't take this anymore; taking care of such an unruly pup. She's tried her best for a couple months now to be patient with him, the boy obviously has issues with his parents, but she can't put her health on the line anymore.

Tim screeches loudly while watching the beta leave, calming down enough to listen in on his parents as they realize another babysitter is being chased off. "Dana, where are you going? We need you to watch him for the week, we have a business trip, remember?" The pup clenches his small hands into his shirt as he pokes his head around the corner with a sniffle, blue eyes watching as his dad attempts to chase the beta down, one hundred dollar bills clasped within his hand as he waves them in Dana's face. "We'll raise your pay! It's not an issue for us, you know-"

Dana keeps her hand pressed to her nose, her eyes narrowing accusingly at Jack and Janet Drake as she turns to stare at them.

"I know you can't keep an eye on your own kid for two fucking seconds! Your kid has problems, okay? And I've tried to be patient, but I can't anymore! Just spend some time with him, that's all he wants." Dana hisses at her ex-employers while tugging on her jacket angrily, the glare softening up a bit as she catches a peek of Tim curiously looking over the corner towards his parents, "Goodbye Tim."

Janet reaches for the woman in a last ditch attempt to keep her in place, her mouth opening wide in shock as the beta slams the door in her face loudly. "Jack, what are we supposed to do!? We have a business meeting to go to! We can't watch after our mutt." Tim perks up as he's gestured at, wiping the tears from his eyes as he steps out from the corner and skips towards his parents almost giddily, tugging at his dad's suit pants. "Daddy-"

"I'm sure we can find someone last minute? Or he can stay home by himself...he seems like a capable young man."

Tim pouts as his dad speaks over him, but the fact his mom and dad are even talking about him is...everything and more to him. The boy stands a little taller as his mom looks at him, it's not the looks he remembers receiving from her, but at least it's something. "Capable? He...looks like he's a bit chubby, doesn't he? Have our nanny's been over feeding him? I don't think I remember him ever being this fat, they must have let him get into the snacks."

Janet pinches at her son's face experimentally, her eyebrows furrowing in worry. "Will him being over fed have an effect on his presentation?"

Jack Drake rolls his eyes at his wife's worrying, looking at his watch hurriedly. "If he's an omega, shouldn't we want him to be plump? Alphas enjoy breeding one's with meat on their bones...I think." Janet curls her lips in disgust, "Don't even say that about Timothy! We don't want him to be an omega, they are weak and useless, I've seen it with my own mother how good-for-nothing omegas are. He'll be an alpha." 

Tim has no idea what his parents are talking about, but the way his mom tugs him protectively to her side causes him to trill happily.

"But if he were an omega, imagine how useful he could be to us and our business-" Jack pauses to give his wife time to process what he said, smiling victoriously at her curious look-"If he looks good enough and smells pleasing enough, he could help to sway any potential business partners into making deals with us. Imagine the cards we hold by letting them think they'll get a hold of our son." Janet looks away in thought before glancing down at Tim, "What good would that be to us? The one business partner we want to work with us not only is an omega himself, but takes his job seriously...now that he has a pup of his own at least. It's not like he'd be willing to sleep around anymore, and we don't even know if he's ever slept around with other omegas anyway."

Tim smiles up at his mom and pushes into the hand in his hair almost desperately, purring softly at the attention.

"It could all be lies, Janet. Bruce Wayne is easy, gives it up for just about anyone from what I've heard, I bet when Tim reaches a certain age, he'll at least think about it. And with Bruce's kind of influence and sway on people, do you not think he covers up his sex-capades." Jack looks out the window at the honking outside, checking his watch one last time with a sigh, "Our ride is here. It seems like we have to take Timothy with us this time...there's no time for a babysitter."

Janet frowns displeased, pushing her pup ahead of her with a groan. "It seems you'll be traveling with mother and father, Timothy."

————°————

Tim practically vibrates excitedly in his seat as he peers down his window at the earth below, things look so small from up here, but it's also very pretty. The pup chirps happily and turns towards his parents excitedly, ready to tell them how amazing flying is and how he's just happy they're paying attention to him again, but his shoulders slump pitifully when seeing his mom talking on the phone with someone, papers strewn about her table as she fuses with whoever is on the other line. His eyes look over hopefully towards his dad instead, only to cloud over with disappointment as the man clacks away on his computer. "Mommy-"

The beta shushes him harshly, narrowing her eyes disapprovingly at him for interrupting her phone call while making frantic gestures towards her husband, a motion that tells Tim to: 'go bother your father instead and leave me to my work.' Those are words that the boy is used to hearing on a daily basis, so, with a huff he turns toward his dad. "Daddy?"

The male beta doesn't respond, too engrossed in his work to hear his pup or pay attention to the boy hopping out of his chair and making his way slowly over to him. "Daddy?"

Tim blinks optimistically up at his dad, hoping that now because he's closer to the man, the other will finally notice his presence and at least glance his way. But, the older only continues to type away on his device, causing the boy to feel jealous over the keyboard and how it gets his father's touch, his stomach churning at the reminder that his mother's phone gets to hear her voice constantly, how she always seems to hold it in her hands as if it's her most treasured thing.

Tim sniffles and tries to hold back his tears, he remembers his mom telling him she dislikes children that act as babies and his dad reminding him that young men don't cry.

But...it's just so hard not to. All Tim wants is to be his dad's son again, desires to be his mom's little boy-he glares at the devices his parents are using enviously, is that the issue? He isn't being useful enough to his parents in the way that the devices are? Has he become too lazy and comfortable with his parents affection that he's started slacking off on his duties? He doesn't know what caused him to have this reaction-no, this outburst-but Tim snatches his father's computer from under his quick fingers, throwing it violently against the wall of the jet with an outraged cry, ignoring his father's surprised shout in favor of targeting his mother's phone next, his gaze fixed on the metal with hate as he charges towards her with a scream. 

Janet's eyes widen, her hands fumbling for the mute button before lifting it away from her child, trying to push the boy away while making sure she hasn't hung up.

"Gimme...the...phone!"

Tim crawls over his mom, tears dripping down his face as his distressed scent escapes him, too focused on his present task to bother covering up his feelings as his parents have instructed him to. He grunts as he's held back and even pushed slightly by the beta, her tone clipped, "Tim Drake! Cut it out, now! You better not make me hang up-" Janet gasps in shock as a small hand slaps her cheek, her and the pup freezing in place as if they both are trying to process what just happened.

After a few seconds of silence, Tim whines loudly while tugging his mom forward by her suit jacket and snatching the phone from her hands in her state of shock, tossing it behind him and pressing closely to her chest in apology for putting his hands on her.

Janet seems to snap out of it when her phone is taken away from her, still too stunned in the moment to bother doing anything about it and just watching as it smacks loudly against one of the other tables. Her pup's souring scent causes her nose to sting in displeasure from the stench, her lips curling in disgust. "Timothy Jackson Drake." The pup tenses at the woman's eerily calm voice, a small cry escaping him as her hands tighten painfully on the nape of his neck while tugging him away from the warmth and comfort of her breasts, the tears falling harder as his only source of affection and love is taken away from him.

"You are a bad pup. Very bad."

Janet's tone takes on a rough timbre, a sound that's only used on pups when they particularly misbehave and won't listen to their parents, usually used as a last resort to command the pup into doing whatever it is you are asking them to do or not do...usually for their benefit when the child doesn't listen to any regular scolding.

But Tim doesn't understand it.

He can see her being upset over being hit and wanting to correct him on it...but doesn't she see the reason why he did it? It wasn't meant to hurt her or anything, he just...wants his mom and dad. And the only time they seem to pay attention to him is if he lashes out this way, he thought this is how he was supposed to get time with them. "M-Mommy-" he gets cut off by his own whining at the painful sting to his neck glands, his mother's nails digging into the sensitive flesh meanly. "M-Mommy-" Janet mocks-"Don't whine! You know I don't like the whining and the sniffling, Timothy. You know you don't put your hands on others, especially your parents."

Does he know that?

It's not as if Janet and Jack are around to teach him those things. If anything, it was his nanny that always told him that.

Tim opens up his mouth, planning on defending and explaining himself to his mother as to why he felt the need to do what he did. It's not that he meant to interrupt their business, but that they only seem to look his way when he acts out and chases off a nanny or gets in-between their work, that any other way proves useless if it's not him being disruptive to the company. It seems though that he won't be able to plead his case, because he can't even get a word out his throat, noises seem to be getting harder to make now as he's held in place by his mother. 

Is he even breathing?

Janet shakes Tim out of his thoughts with a deep frown on her face, "You better hope that my phone isn't broken or else you are in even more trouble." She stands up abruptly, not concerned about her pup's body twitching in pain as he's dangling midair by his neck, his face growing pink as his airways are slowly cutoff. "You need to be put in time out. You can't continue to act like this, do you hear me? Time is money and money is time, yet you seem to not understand that yet, Timothy." 

Tim looks to his dad for help, a bone chilling coldness spreading from the inside out at seeing the man is over near his computer, brows furrowed in genuine concern as he looks over the device, his hands brushing the screen carefully as he makes sure it still works.

The pup slumps in defeat as the realization of his circumstance sets in, feeling numb as his mom leads him to one of the smaller bathrooms on their private jet and harshly dumps him on the floor, not bothering to apologize for treating her own child so meanly as she says...something else to him, he can't really hear her over the blood rushing in his ears and the sound of his desperate gasps for air. Tim flinches as the door is slammed harshly in his face and something heavy pushed in front of it to keep him trapped inside, his eyes carefully observing the restroom before landing on the sinks lower cabinet and feeling the urge to crawl inside of it. 

And crawl he does.

Tim whimpers quietly to himself as he pushes the items in the cabinet out to make space for himself, curling into a small ball as he hugs himself tightly, ignoring the lingering scent of his angry mother that clings to his clothes as he closes his eyes to rest.

————°————

Blue eyes open in panic, glazed over in confusion at the plush feeling underneath him. Tim sits up in bed confused, his nose twitching as he scents the unfamiliar room, hope poking at his mind with the thought that everything that happened was actually just a bad dream, but the slight sting to his neck stamps on that hope and tells it otherwise. "Daddy? Mommy?" His voice is soft and scratchy as he calls out for them, allowing some anxiety to creep into his tone in the hopes that maybe their minds have changed, that maybe they will rush to his bedside with an apology on their tongues and regret in their gazes as they scoop him into their arms and promise that things will change from here on out.

Tim gives up on calling them after a couple of minutes, hot tears pricking at his eyes as he realizes that they left him, for the meeting they've been going on about most likely, but it still doesn't make the acceptance any easier to come to terms with. The pup sniffles and crawls out of bed, looking down at his clothes and feeling a sharp stab of pain in his chest at seeing himself still in his daywear. I guess he wasn't important enough to change clothes? He looks down at his feet and feels an odd sense of contentment seeing that his shows are gone at least...at least they care enough to take them off for him, right?

His stomach growling loudly interrupts the spiraling thoughts, the six year old biting his lip as he scrubs at his wet eyes. 

Tim slowly steps closer to the door, indecisive on whether to find food himself or not, making his decision to leave the room as his stomach growls again. The child exits the room and looks left and right carefully, perking up at seeing a small group of people heading left towards the elevators and following them, ignoring their curious looks as he pushes his way on with them. "Where's the cafeteria?"

The adults have already ignored him in favor of talking their business or vacation plans with each other, the pup sighing sadly at how he can't even get other grown-ups to pay attention. 

A light tap to his shoulder startles Tim, the small boy turning around and looking up into the friendly eyes of a teenager, the alpha smiling kindly down at him. "You said you were looking for the cafeteria, right?" Tim nods shyly and shifts from foot to foot. "Funny thing is that I was just heading down there! I can take you there if you want? Though, uhhh-" the young alpha glances at the distracted adults inquisitively-"are one of these folks your parents?" Tim doesn't know how to feel at the larger hand carefully wrapping around his own, his small fingers instinctively clenching down at the feeling of warmth as he shakes his head. "No. My parents said that they would...meet me in the cafeteria, that's what they said." The look the teen gives him causes the pup to look away in fear that he'll find out his lie, luckily enough, the older boy ends up smiling instead and guiding him out the elevator with a soft tug to his hand.

"That's alright! Do you mind if you eat with me and my family for today? We can keep an eye on ya while waiting for your parents to come get you."

Tim knows that he should say no...there are a million things wrong with this plan, one of them being that this young alpha and his family will realize his parents are never coming to get him because they already left. But, the way the older looks excitedly-even hopefully-down at him, causes Tim to slowly nod in agreement. "O-Okay? Are you sure they won't mind me intruding? Breakfast is a special occasion, isn't it?"

The alpha raises a brow and chuckles, something in his eyes sparkling in amusement as he says: "Trust me. My mom won't mind you at all, and neither will my grandpa. It's actually been awhile since either of them has had the company of a pup, so I think it will make their day." The older grows silent before slapping his head animatedly, "How could I be so rude? I forgot to introduce myself-" he leads Tim to the back of the line and looks down at the boy openly once they are in place-"The name's Richard Grayson, but everyone who's my friend calls me Dick, nice to meet ya." Tim messes with his shirt nervously and nods politely, "Timothy Drake. But you can call me Tim for short."

Richard smiles brightly when the younger gives him a cute, lopsided smile, handing the boy a plate when they get closer to the food. "Drake? Do you mean you're the son of Jack and Janet Drake? That's pretty cool, Tim, I bet you guys have lots of fun together? They seem to take their work very seriously, so I can only imagine how they take family life. What do you want?"

Tim doesn't know what to focus on first, all the questions were asked extremely quickly and in quick succession, barely giving the pup time to think of a response. But it's fine...he doesn't even know how he would respond to them, he doesn't exactly have fun with his parents, and he knows that he can't just outright tell the older boy that his parents ignore him. "Uh...w-whatever they have up there is fine with me." And he means that too, it's been awhile since he's tasted anything really delicious, the only time he eats properly is if a nanny of his actually cooked-and to be honest-it was usually a hit or miss situation with the caretakers, especially since not all of them were properly looked into.

Sometimes Tim got caretakers that forgot about him just liked his parents do.

Richard hums thoughtfully before dumping a pile of bacon, eggs and fruit on the child's dish, the pup's protests being ignored with the loud exclamation of, "growing pups need to eat!" 

Tim pouts and allows the alpha to do as he pleases, looking over the cafeteria and perking up at seeing a coffee machine, his small hands tugging at Richard's sweatpants hurriedly. "I wanna drink some of that! It tastes good." At the pup's insistence, the teen looks to where the boy is pointing, scrunching his nose in displeasure at the drink he's pointing at. "Decaf coffee? You must not have tasted any real coffee before, you need to drink it caffeinated in order to enjoy it properly."

Tim tilts his head in confusion, frowning as the older waves his free hand frantically. "Not that you should be drinking coffee yet! I'm a mature almost adult, thank you, so please don't let my mom know that I was supportive of you drinking it."

His...mom?

"Your mommy? Where is your mommy?" The pup turns his head in search of the teens parent, grunting softly as he's finally handed his overfilled plate. 

"He's somewhere at one of those tables, or maybe not? He might have gotten a private area depending on it-people always trying to speak to him during resting hours, you know?" Richard dumps a healthy amount of food into his plate, snagging a small box of cheap breakfast cereal the hotel surprisingly has in his hand, salivating at the thought of the heavily processed food on his tongue. "Come on, little guy, right this way." A gentle hand sets itself on Tim's head as it guides him around the tables, the walk seeming not to stop until they reach a set of French doors, the alpha sticking his tongue out in concentration as he lifts his foot to the door handle and presses it down to open it.

Tim looks up at the older one more time, his eyes apprehensive and curious as to if him being here is actually okay, reassured as the teen just chuckles and nudges him forward with a small tap to his calf. 

The pup shuffles forward with his plate held in both hands, his nose twitching at the sweet-but not overly sweet-scent that fills the room. This isn't from any of the food, that much Tim knows, nothing in the cafeteria smelled this delicious, this...right, no, this is the smell of an omega. "Whoever is out there...please, go away and at least wait until I'm done eating to ask me questions or make business deals. I-" Tim freezes in place as the prettiest pair of blue eyes turn to look at him, the stern look immediately being replaced with a soft look of pleasant surprise. "Oh!? I'm sorry, pup. Are you okay? Are you lost?"

Tim opens and closes his mouth, unsure of what to say as he flounders for a proper response.

"He's not lost, B!" Richard chirrups excitedly, pushing Tim forward a little more as if he's a cat that caught a gift for its owner and is eager to present it. "I found him in the elevator! He was heading my way-which was to the cafeteria-and I decided he could eat with us since he said he's waiting for his parents."

The omega knows he should ask his son what 'finding him' means, and if the pup's parents even know that he's here with them, but the sight of this small boy holding a plate that looks too big and heavy for his hands causes him to soften. His eyes glistening fondly at the physical signs of the boy's nervousness as he shifts from foot to foot, his gaze being drawn to the socked feet as the small appendage pushes down his rising pant leg. "Pup, where are your shoes? You came down here without any shoes on? Did no one dress you up before bringing you to eat?"

The omega's voice is probing, but not void of any kindness, the man gesturing him forward with an outstretched palm as he finally takes notice of the mountain of food sitting on the boy's plate.

"Richard, why did you give him so much food? Poor thing can barely carry it."

Tim blinks in shock as the omega stands up and helps him carry his plate, pulling out the chair next to him and helping the small boy climb into it, a pleased noise escaping him as he looks at the contents of the plate. "You have fruit? You gave him fruit, Dickybird?"

The teen chuckles and sits next to Alfred, nodding his head and puffing out his chest in pride. "Yup! You always told me growing up that growing pups need food and lots of rest, and I knew if you didn't see any fruits or veggies on his plate that you'd be mad at me for not thinking of his health." Bruce gives a small smile at his son before turning his attention back onto the pup, "I'm glad you could join us for breakfast today, don't worry about not eating everything on your plate, okay? I'm Bruce Wayne, can I ask your name?"

Tim blinks in shock at the name, why does it sound so familiar? The pup continues to stare up at the omega, his little brows scrunching in thought before lifting in surprise, no wonder the name sounds so familiar, Bruce Wayne is the omega his parents were talking about back at home.

Tim shakes himself out of his thoughts, licking his lips nervously before stretching out his hand to shake. "Timothy Drake...but y-you can call me Tim." Maybe it's the neglect skewing his perception of Bruce? Maybe it's the affectionate look the omega is giving to him? Heck, maybe it's the soft and gentle hands carefully shaking his own that make Tim think that maybe he's not so bad. Whatever the reason is, the pup feels something warm nudging at his heart, slowly replacing that lonely feeling with something...familiar? Yes, familiar. The more he looks at those icy eyes sparkling with care and love for a pup that's not even his, it reminds Tim of the way his mommy used to stare at him once upon a time.

Bruce's humored-but gentle-voice wraps around Tim's ears like a warm hug, gently pushing through the insecurities and doubts that have built up within him with the confidence of a man who knows his power, who knows that he doesn't need to use much force to get his way but just needs to simply speak and others listen.

That's how Tim feels as those doubtful inner voices bow out to let Bruce through.

"Oh? And you're a little gentleman too?" Bruce tries not to look too amused at the stupefied look the pup gives him, he can tell that the boy is being serious. "And did you say Drake? You mean like Drake Industries? Your parents have been really persistent in trying to get me to work with them."

A sudden thought pops into Tim's mind; what if he introduces his parents to Bruce for them? So far the omega seems to like him...so what if he's more open to making a deal with his mom and dad? What if...what if him doing this for them makes them notice him again? Things will go back to the way they used to be: his mom cuddling with him in bed as she plays with his hair and tells him stories, his dad chasing him around the house and ruffling his hair fondly whenever he does something good, both his parents tucking him in goodnight and tickling him when he keeps trying to get out of bed and follow them.

Maybe if he proves to them that he's useful to the business, they'll realize that he's also good enough to be their son.

With a renewed determination, Tim chirps happily and finally releases Bruce's hand while leaning forward eagerly. "But my mommy and daddy are reeeeeally good people! They talk about you lots and all the things your companies could do together if you ever gave them a chance-" maybe that's not exactly true? He's heard his parents say some not so nice things about the omega before out of anger, but he doesn't need to know that-"They are just determined and ready to expand the growth of their business to help others!"

Bruce's eyes widen at Tim's sudden enthusiasm, his lips twitching up at the boy's determination. "I know that, Tim...but I am very careful on who exactly I conduct my business with. That and my secretary schedule's meetings based off the most important to the-" he pauses at the look of defeat on the boy's face, purring softly to comfort the pup-"Look, Tim, it isn't that your family or their business isn't important. That's not what I'm trying to convey to you, but, your mother and father's business-let alone-their names are fairly new to the world of business. I admit that they have done a lot of work recently to put their names out there, and I have been looking into the work they do." At Tim's disbelieving stare, Bruce smiles reassuringly and nods his head at the boy. "It's true, I have. I just haven't contacted them yet because I was still looking into them to make sure they are worth meeting with, but I have to say pup, you make a convincing argument on your parents behalf. You'll be a businessman in no time."

The genuine praise does something to Tim, the pup squeaking happily as he looks at the omega in awe, quickly turning back to his food when the older man reminds him it's getting cold.

.

.

.

.

He doesn't know how long he spent time with Bruce...but somewhere deep inside of the pup, he doesn't want it to end.

Despite all of his desires to gain his parents love and attention, there's a little voice somewhere in Tim's brain that anxiously whispers about them never noticing him again for the stunt he pulled on the jet, about how there's nothing that he can do to ever be enough for his mom and dad. It's a voice that the pup has been fighting against ever since he's noticed this weird shift in his dynamic with the adults, I mean, he's not stupid and he has eyes that work just fine.

It's just...

He doesn't want to believe that part of him that knows the reality of his situation, that knows exactly how things have changed and even how there's no returning to old times

It's a truth that would be too hard for anyone to handle--but a six year old? Yeah, that would be even harder for a child to grasp that their parents don't love as they used to before...that maybe their parents never actually loved them that way, that it was all an act for cameras and company; that maybe they did love him that way, but only once and never again.

"I have to get going, Tim. Are your parents coming?"

Tim breathes in sharply at the question, schooling his features as much as he can before replying: "Hm? Oh, yeah! U-Umm...I...lied."

Bruce shares a quick look with his dad and son before turning back to the pup, "You lied? How? Are you-" Richard cuts the omega off, leaning in towards Tim eagerly, his eyes glistening with an intense delight that the boy has never seen before despite his voice sounding calm. "Do you not have parents? Did you sneak in?"

A harsh nudge from Alfred seems to sober the young alpha back down from his excitement.

"I mean, that's not what I meant to make it sound like, I'm sorry. I hope your parents are still alive, having dead parents really sucks-I'll stop putting my foot in my mouth and shut up now." 

Tim tilts his head curiously and turns back to Bruce, "My parents are still alive-" did someone just sigh-"I just meant that they aren't waiting for me...because...because I left the room without them knowing. They said that they were really tired after the flight here and-and fell to sleep as soon as they got to the room." The look the omega gives Tim is similar to the one Richard gave him in the elevator, something about it makes the boy feel as though they can see right through him, that they know he's lying. But, Bruce just nods with a small smile on his face, the look just as disarming as his alpha son's. "Alright, we'll take you back to your room then. I don't want you alone."

Tim bites his lip and-in a moment of desperation-rushes out of his seat to hug onto the omega tightly, burying his face into the soft material of his pants while fisting the man's sweatshirt in his fists.

The pup stiffens up in surprise at the feeling of arms wrapping around him before he melts against the omega's legs, unconsciously letting his scent release, too caught up in the moment to be concerned on the intense scent of desperation, want and relief mixed into his milky aroma. Tim sinks further into the warmth, scenting Bruce's neck when the omega kneels down to his level and nuzzles at him carefully, the scent of the other is soothing in a way that his mom's scent used to be...maybe even still is,  but the too quick change in their relationship has made the pup recoil at the scent, the relief of the beta's smell being replaced with trepidation as it always turns sour whenever he's around.

But Bruce...

Bruce's scent is pleasantly soft and sweet with a hint of spice: vanilla, a hint of rose, cinnamon and cardamom. It makes Tim want to stay wrapped up in his arms forever, he is giving the pup everything that he's been looking for in his parents back to him with one embrace. "Shh...it's okay, Tim." Soft hands wipe at the pup's face tenderly, the boy confused as to when he even started to cry, but the soothing rumble of Bruce's omegan call eases Tim's mind and only causes him to press closer to enjoy the gentle back rubbing the other is giving him. 

Bruce gives a look to Alfred over the child's shoulder before returning to comforting the pup.

.

.

.

.

"Timothy, what-" Jack Drake bursts through the French doors, his annoyed scent turning to one of surprise as he sees that the phone call he received wasn't a joke...Bruce Wayne actually called him and Janet. "Mr. Wayne! Is everything alright?" The beta swallows nervously under the omega's stern look, slowly stepping forward until he's close enough to bend down and grab his pup, shushing the boy as he whines and squirms. "We weren't even aware that Timothy left the room."

Bruce purses his lips and nods, "I'm well aware. I understand jet lag is rough on the body, but please, try to keep an eye on your pup."

Before Jack can even ask what he means, Tim's voice croaks in his ear. "I told Mr. Bruce that you and mommy fell to sleep after we landed, you two were tired after the flight and didn't notice me leave." Jack raises his brow but gives a small, almost imperceptible, smirk at the cover-up, the pup must have not wanted them to be in trouble for leaving him unattended in the hotel room. "O-Of course, Mr. Wayne, I'm so sorry for the inconvenience. Are you alright, pup? You aren't hurt, are you?" Tim pauses at the question, his little nose twitching in interest at the scent of concern his dad releases, a small feeling of hope rising within him as he slowly-cautiously-leans his head down to scent his dad, giggling softly when the man nuzzles him back. "D-Daddy!"

Jack smiles softly, his hands gently ruffling his pup's hair to comfort him while releasing his pleasantly mild scent.

"It's alright, son, I'm sorry for not paying more attention to you today, alright? Mr. Wayne...I apologize for any trouble-" Jack immediately closes his mouth at the omega lifting up his hand in a-stop-gesture, the beta's eyes widening at the business card the other slips out of his wallet and extends to him. 

"Your son has made a very convincing argument on you and Mrs. Drake's behalves today-" he smiles kindly at the pup-"He told me that you both work so hard to make the world a better place with your inventions and plans. You both always call my office at least twice a month to see if I've changed my mind, so I at least know you aren't quitters, expect a call from my secretary so she can book a date for us to talk. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Drake." Bruce nods politely at the beta and gestures for his family to follow him out, taking a second to look at Tim warmly with a small nod, "And it was a pleasure to talk to you, Tim. Goodbye."

Tim grips his dad's suit jacket at the sight of Bruce leaving, his inner pup calling out softly to the omega in goodbye, trying to ignore the sad feeling churning in his gut as the man disappears around the corner with his family.

Why is he even sad?

Isn't his dad's affection what he wished for?

Tim shakes his head and nuzzles his nose back into Jack's neck, humming contentedly as he isn't put down or pushed away, but hugged closer as his dad rushes out the room and towards the elevators, his foot tapping impatiently as he waits for the elevator to reach the main floor.

The next thing Tim knows is that he's back in the hotel room, the irritated scent of his mother causing him to bury his face further into his dad's neck. "Why are you babying him, Jack? Why were we even called-what? Why are you smiling at me like that?" The boy takes a chance to peak out from his hiding spot in his dad's neck, staring up at the pleased look his dad wears as he holds up Bruce Wayne's business card triumphantly. "I knew having a pup would come in handy! Look what Tim got for us!"

Janet narrows her eyes suspiciously at the card, growling softly at her husband's shaky hands and snatching the card from him so she can read it properly, her scent confused before bursting forth with excitement and shock. "Are you serious!? He-Bruce Wayne? He really ran into Bruce Wayne of all people?!"

Jack smiles wide; victoriously, lowering Tim down to the floor and shaking him off when the boy tries to cling to him. "I know right! I was right when saying that he'd take a liking to our pup, and can you believe that Timothy put in a good word for us? Bruce said that we should be expecting a call from his secretary sometime." Janet stares at the business card incredulously before chuckling and hugging her husband, catching Tim off guard as affection isn't something he really sees from his parents towards each other anymore, but...it feels good seeing his mom and dad jump up and down like two kids in a candy store, he is the cause of that.

Tim looks between his embracing parents in relief at seeing something familiar again, chirping excitedly as he squeezes between the two and grips onto their clothes, stamping down that small voice that tells him this moment won't last forever.

————°————

Tim doesn't know why he ever listened to that voice in his head? He doesn't know why he insisted on convincing himself that things between him and his parents would get better from there.

He was wrong.

He was so very wrong, that much he can admit. The doting and praise lasted the rest of that very day, but as soon as the next day hit, they went back to business-if anything, their obsession over meeting with Bruce Wayne became even worse after actually getting a phone number, everyday was spent looking at their phones twice as much and keeping their email open just in case Wayne Enterprises messaged them.

Now Tim is so much older and wiser. Even though he's only nine, he is sharp in a way he wasn't when he was six, or maybe it's that he's finally allowed himself to not be held back by his own obsession with his parents love?

The point is: he's finally allowed himself to grow beyond them.

Now he's focused on Batman, this enigmatic character that has risen above Gotham as its defender in the night, as the watchman in the shadows against the filth this city holds. 

Following Batman has been his favorite past time...that and following Bruce Wayne. He knows it's not...ideal to keep tabs on the omega so closely, but ever since that day at the hotel when the man wrapped him in his arms, it's been an experience on his mind everyday and every night since then. Tim has always desired to get close to the omega again...his parents definitely had enough meetings with the man for him to see him again, but every time he thought about it, he got scared of Bruce's opinion on him changing.

The unwanted thoughts always held him back: 'what if I'm not enough?' 'what if I'm not what he needs?' 'what if it was all an act? Your parents did it before, so why would he not with you?' But...Bruce has been his light at the end of the dark tunnel known as his life, the memory and phantom feelings of a warm hug being one of the only things to keep him from being crushed under the overwhelming weight of the loneliness clinging to his heart everyday, keeping him sane from the thoughts that poke and prod at his restless mind. 

Now Batman is another new obsession.

It's not everyday that you see a vigilante with a kid for a sidekick/partner. And the way that he's seen the man treat Robin makes Tim envious of the boy, why is it that a crime fighter gets a better caretaker in his life rather than Tim? Is he living his life in a way that is causing him to not be noticed or wanted by anyone?

Tim doesn't know what it is, but either way, he has been trying to get near Batman for awhile now.

Trying to get the man to notice him and take him in-he can be useful to him! If only he could just prove that to the Bat, surely the other would see what he's capable of and take him in without a doubt. I mean, the other hasn't had a problem doing that with two other pups, so why would it suddenly be an issue for him? Tim licks his lips anxiously, shifting from foot to foot in an old tell of how nervous he actually feels. The pup peeks over the corner, analyzing the rooftop he climbed onto in search of Batman and Robin, they should be arriving soon...he made sure he got the location right tonight, because tonight will be the night that he meets the supposed alpha, he won't settle for anything less any longer. 

From his years of careful research and learning Batman's patterns, he knows that this rooftop is a place he and Robin usually visit after every patrol-and unless there's another crime to rush to-there's no conceivable reason for the vigilante to skip coming here tonight.

.

.

.

.

Tim jumps awake at a, 'whoosh', sound coming from behind his hiding spot. The boy shaking himself awake and taking a deep breath before looking over to where he heard the noise, his lips lowering to a confused frown as he searches the rooftop for Batman.

"I don't think you should be up this high."

Tim squeaks in panic and turns around too quickly, tripping over his feet and falling onto his butt as he stares up at...Clark Kent? Blue eyes blink up in shock at the sight of the reporter in a Superman cosplay, looking the man up and down carefully, his eyes only widening as the mild mannered reporter floats above the ground.

Oh. My. Freaking. Gosh!

Clark Kent is Superman and Superman is Clark Kent. 

Tim gets lost in his thoughts, completely unaware of the alpha's growing concern the longer he keeps silent. It makes sense as to why he always thought the man looked familiar, at the time, he didn't really pay the familiar feeling any mind due to being obsessed focused on Bruce Wayne...but it turns out the feeling was because the "beta" is actually an alpha named Superman.

Metropolises most beloved hero is actually a bumbling reporter with a crush on Bruce Wayne. He wonders if Lois Lane knows yet.

Superman softly lands on the ground, extending his hand towards the pup slowly, as if he's trying not to scare a wild animal. "Hey, pup, are you alright? What are you doing up here? This building is really high, so I'd imagine you are pretty cold." It seems as if those words cause Tim to shiver, hm...I guess he was so distracted in his wait for Batman that he didn't process his own coldness. "Can I give you my cape? It'll keep you warm no matter what temperature." Those words bring out the little detective in Tim, he wants to ask so many questions about the material and even if Superman needs the cape himself because he can feel the cold, or if it's more so for any civilians he saves and needs to fly to somewhere safe.

But he can't...not now.

Tim only wants to be wrapped up in Batman's cape, in the exact same way that Robin is whenever he's around the man. "I don't need your cape, Superman. I'm just fine on my own, thanks."

The Kryptonian sighs at the horribly familiar words, his deep blue eyes looking Tim up and down curiously. "Don't tell me you are one of Batman's too? I...wouldn't imagine he'd leave you here alone and without warm clothes." Tim wipes the dirt off his clothes and hands, his interest only growing at the defeated look in the alpha's eyes, does-does he think that Tim isn't fit to be Batman's partner?

The boy growls as fiercely as he can, a small squeak escaping him in his attempts to be intimidating. "I'll have you know that while I'm not his partner yet, I have plenty of skills that will be beneficial to Batman!"

Superman steps back in shock, raising his hands in defeat and crooning at the distressed pup apologetically, the noise embarrassing Tim from how quickly he feels like nuzzling into the man. "Woah there, buddy? That's not what I meant, okay? And what do you mean by skills? You...you don't need to do anything to get the man to want you-" he looks away pitifully and murmurs-"not unless you're an alien from Krypton that is." Those words cause Tim to stop his growling, his look skeptical as he tilts his head, he thought that Superman was in love with Bruce not Batman?

"Wait...but I thought you liked B-"

A deep voice interrupts Tim's question, "Superman. I thought I told you to stop showing up here?" Both the alpha and pup startle at the vigilante's sudden appearance, the former smiling bashfully at the other while the latter gasps softly in awe. 

"I know you did...but I like seeing you, is that so bad?"

Robin steps out from underneath Batman's cape, his face displeased at the sight of the alpha. "I thought B also said he didn't want to see your ugly mug? Stay away from him, Superman." The pup is called back to the man's side, the boy humming contentedly at the gloved hands gently raking through his hair, "I didn't call him ugly, Robin. Though I did-" the alpha stops to scent the air, his gaze suddenly turning towards Tim and keeping him in place, a sharp inhale taken in as he notices the other pup's presence-"Oh!? I'm sorry, pup. I didn't see you there. Are you okay? Are you lost?"

That tone...it's oddly soothing-silky-in a way that only one other person's was before. But that person was Bruce Wayne...surely Batman actually isn't-

"Are you alright? Do you need medical attention?" Batman takes a cautious step forward with his hands raised, freezing in surprise at the pup's laughter. "It's you, it's you, it's you! It's really you! I've been searching night and day for you and you're here." Tim shakes with excitement, scrambling forward until he gets close enough to the Bat, he would've gotten closer, but Robin steps in-between the omega protectively.

"Are you high or something?" Robin-Jason-whimpers softly at the gentle slap he receives to his head. "What!? This kid's not makin' any sense."

Tim manages to stand tall despite the slightly aggressive smell the other pup is giving off, he's obviously in the process of developing his own scent as a much more mature one is mixing in with the milky smell of a pup. "I'm here to be Batman's partner! I promise that I can provide a lot of aid to your mission! I won't get in the way!" Robin releases himself from his defensive stance, snorting in disbelief while glancing up at his mom. "He's gotta be joking? What kind of freak show is this?"

Tim balls up his fists and shakes his head furiously, afraid that if he doesn't say something now, Batman will ignore him or turn him away.

"I'm not a freak! I'm being serious! D-Do you know how much time I've put into this?! Every night for three years I have been studying you all's patterns, learning your schedules and keeping tabs on where your next fight will be in the hopes of catching you guys."

Robin takes a step back from the outburst, his sharp look-that Tim can't see-being replaced with one of concern for the younger boy in front of him. "I-...you stalked us? Don't you have a family to go back to or something? Why waste your time doing this? And if you have been following us this whole time, why haven't you ever introduced yourself before?" The younger pup fists at his clothes, once again shifting from foot to foot nervously as he responds, "B-Because I wasn't ready yet. I had to make sure that when I met Batman that everything about me was...prepared."

Tim is unbothered by Robin cringing at the information, all he's focused on is Batman and what he thinks of him. So far so good, he thinks. The omega hasn't pulled away in disgust, neither has he yelled at him to go away, so that must count for something?

Batman gently moves Robin aside, kneeling to Tim's level and grabbing the small hands within his own, rubbing the knuckles repeatedly with his thumbs. "Puppy, I...appreciate your eagerness to help me on this mission, but it's a very hard mission, and-" Tim shuffles forward a little, moving his hand to Batman's cape and gripping it tightly in his hands. "B-But what about your two Robins? They got to fight crime from a young age despite everything, t-they got to help you, why can't I? I-please? I promise that I can do a lot of work. I won't complain or anything-please? I just want to be with you."

Batman does his very best to beat down his instincts to take Tim home, he would in a heartbeat...really, he would, but...

"Your parents, pup. I'm sure they'd be worried about you. So, I think you should head home-" Tim feels his heart stop as that familiar warmth departs from him, frozen in place as Batman pulls away and stands up, pushing the boy closer to the Kryptonian gently-"Superman, can you take him home?"

Tim has no words as he's carefully wrapped up in Superman's red cape, that bone chilling coldness he's adapted to over the years consuming him as he's slowly lifted into the alpha's arms, hot tears pouring down his face unwillingly as the distance between him and Bruce grow further and further apart. "No-" his voice is but a cracked whisper-"No! G-Get off me-Batman, please! I don't w-wanna go home!" Superman shouts as the pup starts squirming mid-air, the alpha trying to calm the pup down and only receiving small fangs to his arm for his efforts. "Get off! Batman! P-Please!"

Superman touches down onto the ground again, lowering himself to the floor gently with the trembling pup in his firm hold, gently shushing the boy as he falls limp.

"W-Why?"

Tim whimpers and digs the palm of his hands into his wet eyes, "W-Why don't y-you remember m-me?" The boy sniffles and chokes on his spit, his breathing picking up as he panics. "W-Why doesn't anyone remember m-me? I can be a g-good pup-" he looks up at Bruce, seeing beyond the mask, because that's who he first admired the most-"M-Mama."

Batman whimpers at the broken noise and rushes to Tim, knees slamming into the rooftop floor as he snatches the troubled pup to his chest, cooing to the boy in reassurance while sending a warning growl Superman's way.

How dare he try to separate him from his pup.

"Timothy Jackson Drake-my little Tim-I...I never forgot you, pup. I always thought about you since the day we met-you-I-" he takes a deep breath in to calm himself-"You reeked of sadness and I did my best to help, even in that short amount of time we knew each other. I had always hoped that your mother and father would bring you to our meetings...but I never saw you, and I know things in Gotham kept me busy, but I never forgot you once."

That icy feeling in his bones is replaced by a warmth at his full name being said by Bruce. He...really did remember him? It wasn't just an experience that Tim let get into his head too much?

"T-Then why?"

Tim sniffles, rubbing his dripping nose on the dark cape, "Why can't I join you? M-My parents won't care, I-I promise they won't!" Batman frowns at that information, tucking the boy under his chin and wrapping his cape around the small frame protectively. "Tim...where are your parents? Did they..."

It's easy to fill in the blanks.

Tim shakes his head and murmurs, "Business trip. Couple weeks now. T-They never remember me."

The angry growl released from Bruce warms Tim to his core, just to know the omega thinks of him as one of his in some way is a relief. He knows that they'll need to talk about boundaries later, and there's still a part of him that hurts horribly at knowing his biological parents don't want him...but at least Bruce does, he imprinted on the man when they met.

The soft click of Superman's cape attaching back onto his suit causes both Tim and Bruce to look up at the worried alpha. "Is...everything okay? You two...uh, met before?" 

Tim squints suspiciously at the jealous glint in the man's eyes...is he...jealous of a pup, really? Wait! Maybe he's thinking about it all wrong? If Clark Kent has a crush on Bruce Wayne, and Superman constantly visits this rooftop in hopes of seeing Batman, that could mean that A: Superman has a crush on both and it's a coincidence that he's flirting with the same man, or 2: Superman knows Batman's identity and is beating around the bush by following both personas instead of being an alpha about it and confessing.

Batman stands up with Tim held securely in his arms, the pup's theory being confirmed simply at the way the alpha looks lovingly at the omega for cradling a pup to his side.

And that's a look Tim has seen Clark Kent make many times towards Bruce Wayne at galas and no one else.

"We did." Batman finally answers the alpha's question.

Superman nods slowly, scratching his head restlessly, his lips pursing slightly in thought before speaking: "How? Was...uh...did you meet Tim's father? Do you two know each other or something?" Tim takes a glance towards Batman when his grip tightens on him, the omega's posture radiating bashfulness from the questions. Hm? So Batman does know Superman's identity too. The omega has only ever reacted this shyly towards one humble, Midwestern reporter.

"My father and B are great friends! Batman here even gave my dad a way to contact him, you know?" Blue eyes take notice of the alpha's clenched fists, his eyes sparkling mischievously as they are only confirming his theories.

"Oh? And is your father a hero too?"

Tim opens his mouth to respond, being stopped by a gloved hand covering his mouth, imagining the glare the omega is directing towards the alpha for his prodding. "And why is that of any concern to you? It's my business who I hand my personal information out to." The silence between the two heroes is tense, the alpha conceding with an apologetic smile and an awkward chuckle. "You are...absolutely right, Batman. I don't know what came over me." The Kryptonian trails off, eyeing the shorter man closely as he nuzzles into Tim, his night blue eyes longingly looking at the two and causing the pup to sigh tiredly.

It hasn't even been that long and he's already tired of seeing their willful ignorance of each other's identities.

"You know, I just don't see why I haven't gotten a way to contact you."

Tim grows confused at the groan coming from Batman and Robin, this must be a topic that comes up often, each time being met with the denial of any personal information or way of contact. "We've been over this, Superman, if I need your help-which I don't-then I can call for you. You have super hearing, so you don't need a way to contact me."

The alpha and omega startle at Tim speaking up, "One rule of thumb for any businessman is don't mix pleasure with your biz."

Superman's gaze is quizzical, his deep blue's shifting from Batman to Tim for answers, the pup sighing and gesturing from Clark to Bruce. "I've heard that Mr. Wayne has been looking into buying the Daily Planet-" he tries to hold in his smirk at the omega's breath hitching in surprise-"Do you know what that means, Superman?" The alpha visibly deflates, "He's not looking for a relationship?" The pup facepalms, "I've heard the Daily Planet has a humble reporter named Clark Kent. He's someone I've seen at galas always making goo goo eyes at Bruce Wayne." At those words, Superman clears his throat with a nervous laugh, trying to ignore the sound of blood rushing to Batman's face from underneath the mask.

"Why would I be interested in knowing t-that?"

Tim smirks, "Because...I know you know Lois Lane, Clark Kent's best friend. Maybe you'd be willing to tell her so she can tell Clark, that Bruce Wayne is just as goo goo eyed at Clark Kent than he is with him. Though, I think if either of them had working eyeballs, they'd see what's in front of them already." The emphasis on the last few words cause Superman and Batman to pause, the two standing as still as statues before the alpha laughs loudly while the omega uses the pup in his arms as a barrier between him and Clark when the taller steps closer to him. "I...wasn't sure if you figured it out yet. I knew the day I lead you and Jason up to your room-" Bruce's voice is soft as he finishes the sentence, "The interaction was familiar. You...you found out at the same time?"

Tim nuzzles into Bruce's suit before hopping out of his arms, giving the adults time to speak to each other properly, yelping as Robin slings his arm around his neck and pulls him in close, nuzzling his hair fondly with an excited smile on his face.

"Welcome to the family, Tim!"

The pup chirps in pleasant surprise, nuzzling into his new older brother as he lets the taller scent him, his eyes watering with happiness as he whispers in disbelief, "Yeah...my family."

(Beginning of notes from AO3–I know this chapter wasn't as...full blown protective for a specific reason, but him defending Tim from his self-deprecation and sadness counts, right? 😂 I just really wanted to focus on a neglect-ish kind of aspect here and not anything necessarily big or grand like traumatic flashbacks (necessarily) or mean socialites, instead, it's mean parents.

To explain Clark's defeated look when seeing Tim, he's just afraid that all these pups means Bruce is taken and in a relationship lol. Oh! And excuse Jason's brashness here, he was speaking harshly cause he was protective of his mom is all, but he recognized the loneliness in Tim's voice quite quickly and softened up.

I am a firm believer that Bruce's children adopted him just as much as he chose to do to them 😂. In this story, they all kind of quickly imprint on him. Also, Tim's attachment to Bruce's is obviously implied at him recognizing a familiarity in the way the omega interacted with him...so, he kind of saw him as his "new" mother when they first met, all because Bruce treated him kindly.

Tim will obviously get help for that over the years, and he does genuinely see Bruce as his mom, it's not just a desperation there. I just wanted to focus on his frantic thoughts more.

Please remember to stay safe, happy, healthy and of course lovely as always. You are are truly loved and greatly appreciated! 💛–End of notes from AO3.)

Links to: Part 1: The Interview, Part 2: The Gala.

[nomi-c]

Pottery ventures

Professions (1/8) {San}

{San x Reader}

Wordcount: 7K

Genre: Strangers to Lovers, Smut, Pet names (sweetheart), cursing (fuck), Dominant San , Oral Female receiving, Protected intercourse, Fingering

A/n: as always with my ff's, this ff isn't meant to represent the artist in any way or form!

-Minors don't read-

With a last glance on your Phone, you cursed your best friend for cancelling on your monthly planned meet up in the very last second.

Are you sure you can't make it? You texted her, even though you already knew the answer. She spontaneously needs to stay longer at work because of some emergency at the ER.

If you would have known sooner you would've called the workshop owner and cancelled the appointment, but you were already in front of the little studio and the appointment would start in around 10 minutes.

The day was really calm and no one expected a emergency this size.... I'm sure you'll have fun at the workshop, we can still book another appointment at that shop for maybe next week?

You sighed and watched your breath form into tiny clouds as you took a sip of your coffee and pulled the scarf tighter around your neck and partly covered your nose and mouth from the biting snowy wind that caused you to shiver heavily.

I will ask him for another appointment after today, no worries. Stay strong! Love you xxx

Without waiting for another reply since you knew she was busy treating emergency patients, you took a deep breath to calm your nerves and gripped the door handle.

Staying a second longer outside wasn't ideal, seeing as in this part of the town not many people stayed outside after it got dark. It didn't matter that it was only 7pm on a Thursday, once it was dark people stayed at home. It wasn't like the area was criminally populated, it was more that the way the block was built gave off strange vibes and an eerie feeling once the sun set. Maybe it also had to do with the past of this exact block that gave you shivers whenever you thought about the mall tragedy years back.

They were in the middle of renovating the block and erasing the ugly past with new parks and buildings and incredible cafés but nonetheless people didn't forget things that easily and you were sure it would take a long while till people would be walking here carefree again.

The little Pottery studio you would visit today however had a owner who only moved here 6 months ago and probably didn’t know the history of this area before he opened the newly build studio here. When you and your best friend searched for a cool new hobby, you found his website and his rating was 5 stars through the bench.

You decided to give him a shot since the comments were good and some of the pieces you saw on his website were drop dead gorgeous. It wasnt the first workshop you both visited, seeing as you made it your adventure to try new workshops and courses every few meet ups. From photography to drawing, and from parkour lasertag. Every thing so far was awesome and a few things got stuck with you. Two of those things being Taekwondo and Art.

You smiled at the many memories that rotated in your inner eye. With a last look around you, you cautiously pushed the door open and a little bell above you ringed quietly. You instantly reveled in the warmth of the studio as you stepped in fully, you never were the biggest fan of winter and today was a particularly cold day.

Your eyes roamed over the beautifully black and white designed lobby with incredibly expensive looking modern art pieces and others that seemed like landscapes and some others like momentous of people you didn't recognize.

Walking a bit closer to it, you noted that every Individual piece was lit on by a over head lamp that gave each one its own stage and moment to shine and next to each painting you saw a little silver plate that described the painting and mentioned it's artist.

All of them were drawn by the same person, Park Seonghwa. The name didn't sound familiar to you, but whoever he is, he is a incredible painter.

You moved a bit more into the lobby and your gaze fell behind the counter, where you spotted a big lit up showcase with some of the crafted pieces you saw on the website, and with it you again saw little metal signs with the names of the people who crafted them.

You had to give it to the owner, he had a love for crediting every person he had pieces of and everyone who created art in his studio. You decided then and there that you already liked the guy.

To your left, you saw a small sitting corner which consisted of two white couches on opposite sites of one another, a black fluffy carpet and a rectangular glass table with art and crafting magazines stacked on one side of it.

On the wall next to the sitting area, you saw a makeshift bistro station with a fancy looking Barista coffee machine.

Without doubt the owner didn't only have taste in aesthetic but also in what he consumes, and what he offers his guests you thought to yourself as you saw the variety of pastries next to the coffee machine.

With a last longing look towards the sweet and probably incredibly delicious pastries, you turn back towards the front of the store.

Your eyes travel back towards the counter ahead of you, it is all black and neatly organised from what you could see behind the counter, once you reached the front of it.

Your eyes focused on the jumping screensaver on the computer on the right, that was partly turned into your direction.

You started hearing louder growing steps and focused your attention on the stack of business cards that laid out next to the blooming Poinsettia.

Only when he made his stance behind the counter, you looked up from the business card and your eyes locked with his.

Your breath however got lost along the way, he was around one head taller than you, had dark brown almost black hair, deep brown eyes and a set of adorable dimples that demanded your full attention right instantly.

He seemed to work out a lot, seeing as his frame was huge compared to you, and by huge you were talking about the fact that you could disappear behind his back fully. Looking a bit further down, the black tight shirt he wore revealed to you that his waist seemed pretty petit for his body.

You caught yourself staring at the man before you, so you quickly cleared your throat. Your cheeks burned from embarrassment and you averted your eyes on your gloved hands.

You set the cup of coffee on the counter quickly and started removing your scarf and glove, feeling unbearably warm all of a sudden. "Hello, I am the 7pm appointment. My best friend couldn't make it due to a emergency at work, so it will be just me today. I hope that's still okay with you?" You asked with a slightly shaky voice.

The guy who until now watched you with a slight smile on his lips, leaned down to his computer and typed something on his keyboard. His eyes roamed over the screen and a few seconds later he gave you a quick glance. "It's alright, I hope the emergency isn't too bad. Do you want to schedule a new appointment on top? I won't charge it extra, seeing as you still came here today instead of cancelling last minute."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "I would love that, that is really kind of you Mr. Choi. Would next week at the same time work for you?" You asked with a smile on your lips as you removed your beanie and put it into your bag with the scarf and gloves.

He clicked on his computer a few times, his eyes glued to the screen. "It works perfectly for me, I'll set the appointment. And please call me San, we seem to be around the same age."

You nodded and gave him a smile. "Thank you, San. I'm Y/n, it's nice to meet you." You said as your cautiously extended your hand towards him with a unsure smile on your lips.

Handshakes were mostly out of fashion, especially in winter and even more after the pandemic but you would feel rude to not greet another person that way. Especially someone as kind as him.

San eyed your hand for a second before his dimples reappeared and he laid his hand on yours for a firm handshake. You couldn't help but notice the two rings that adorned his fingers, one golden on his index finger, and a silver infinity looped ring on his middle finger. Odd combination you thought to yourself but didn't dare ask about it.

With anyone else you would say it's a fashion crime to mix gold and silver, but you felt like they had a special meaning and in all honesty you thought that little inconsistency fit with him.

If San noticed he didn't mention it, when he waved his hand towards the pasties to your left. "Can I offer you anything before we get started? A New coffee or maybe some Pastries?" He asked you with a kind smile and warm gaze.

You quickly shook your head. "No, thank you. I still have my coffee. But Thank you very much for the offer."

He nodded and gestured to the right where a big set of double milk glass doors was located. "Shall we?" He asked you with a smirk.

You once again felt your cheeks heat up, something about him made you jumpy but not in the creeped out way. No, he made you jumpy in a manner of your crush replied to your Text message where you ask him to date you kind of way.

You tried to calm your racing heart with a deep breath and focused on the flowers in the corner next to the double door, right beside these broad shoulders attractive shoulders of-

No. Don't go there- you curse yourself out as you follow San through the Glass doors avoiding his body with your hungry eyes as if your life depends on it.

You practically drool over your teacher for your pottery workshop right now, but could anyone actually blame you? San's proportions and looks should've been captured on old paintings cause he had the perfect proportions in any kind of way and form. You were sure artists would fight over him to be their muse, look wise as much as body wise.

You could blame your reaction on the fact that you didn't have a boyfriend or a date in years and your... well, last time feeling like this over a guy was even longer ago.

Feeling San's eyes on you, you slowly lifted your gaze from his shoulders to his eyes and felt exposed by the raw intensity of his stare.

With a smirk on his lips, he shook his head and turned left towards a little table that had a clay sack on top. He grabbed two blocks and placed them one after another on two of the workstations. "You can pick any seat you want."

You woke up from your trance and unholy thoughts about broad backs and muscular arms and set your bag next to the door on the black armchair before you picked the right seat and sat down eying the clay block with interest.

San grabbed two bowls from the side of the sink on the wall to your right and filled them both with water, before he set them next to your clay blocks on the work stations next to the rotation disk.

"Do you have knowledge in pottery?" He asked with his back on you, as he went towards his desk where a bunch of pottery goods sat which he carefully grabbed to place them in yet another showcase to fully dry unharmed.

You shook your head, even though you knew he couldn't see it right now. "I don't know anything about it, me and my best friend wanted to try it and make cute mugs for our reading weekends together."

He nodded, processing your words for a second or two before he turned to his left where a couple of aprons hung on the wall next to the burning oven.

You followed his movements as he picked 2 aprons one smaller and one bigger black one which you assumed was his personal one.

When he turned back around to make his way back to you he had a soft reassuring smile on his lips. "Pottery isn't as difficult as most think it is, you might take a few tries but you'll get the hang of it quickly."

Once he was seated next to you, he handed you the smaller apron slowly. "Did you already think about what you want to create today?" He asked you with a curious expression on his features. His prominent cheekbones slightly rosy from the warmth of the studio.

You quickly searched your mind for possible things you could create and that were easy enough for a absolute beginner as you laid on your apron, but you only came up with a total basic idea. "How about a vase?" You asked as you remembered the beautiful vase you knocked off the dinner table the other day. It was the only vase you had since the many years you lived all alone.

San tilted his head to the side, his indexfinger with the golden ring tapping on his lip absentmindedly. "It's a good choice, easy but with a good purpose."

You nodded in agreement. San's eyes focused on the clay block in front of him before he shot you a quick glance. "I'm sure you already noticed the clay block in front of you, so what we want to do with it to begin, is to loosen it up. We archive that by kneading the clay like a you would with a fresh dough."

He took the clay in his hands and started kneading it and made sure you copy his moves before he spoke again. "We knead or wedge the clay to remove any possible bubbles inside, to make sure our work will be stable and won't break as easily after or during it's getting burned."

You nodded and quickly made a messy bun, already annoyed by the hairs that kept on blocking your view as you kept on kneading the small clay bock thoroughly.

Minutes ticked by with neither of you saying anything, the only sounds in the atelier were your breathings and the faint melody that flowed out of the ceiling speakers quietly.

Your arms were already getting sore and you felt a small droplet of sweat making it's way down your forehead. "How long are we supposed to knead it exactly?" You asked a little out of breath.

San's quiet laugh made you stop your work and look at him instead. He was still kneading the clay, your eyes focused on the strong muscles on his arms and how they moved under every movement he made.

He formed a small clump with it and set it on the middle of the rotating disk. "The longer, the better. It's tiring at the beginning but try to see it as a workout instead with a nice new pottery good as reward." He told you with a smile on his lips.

You shook out your arms, trying to ease some of the burning tension in your muscles and shaped your clay block almost the same. "Can I ask you something?" You asked San as your eyes darted through the artillier and you saw more framed photographies and art pieces on the walls, you even spotted a fallen angel stone figure in the far corner by the window which you didn't notice while entering the space earlier.

San turned in his twisting chair towards you and leaned his elbow on the workstation as he eyed you curiously. "Sure, ask all you want."

You turned towards him as well, glad to rest your arms a bit more as well as stilling your curiosity at the same time. You gestured towards the walls and the stone figure. "Are you interested in photography and art and stone sculpturing? I couldn't help but notice them right away." You said as you once again eyed everything in the room with adoration.

Seeing as you love art yourself you couldn't help yourself but standing up and inspecting it closer. It was like a invisible line pulled you towards the art he displayed and created. The color combinations and techniques the artist used drew you in, and the different vibes and auras each painting gave off seemed to tell a story you yet had to discover fully.

San who slowly walked up behind you, looked at the painting as well. You didn't see his face but could hear the pride in his voice when he spoke again.

"The paintings and sculptures and even the pictures are all from my best friends."

Your eyes went wide as you turned around and looked up at San's face with a dropped jaw. "These belong in big galleries and museums. They are masterpieces."

You saw a dimple form on his left cheek as he paced the room. You followed him, checking the art pieces with him with full attention. "Seonghwa is an artist, he draws everything that captures his interest, from people to objects, to abstract art. He wants to open a gallery in the future, but until then he asked if he could spotlight some paintings here. I loved the idea, it gives the studio flair and showcases his work at the same time."

When you guys reached another photography of what seemed to be a woman's back hugged by shadows and a industrial styled window front with San Francisco in the back, he stopped again as you took in the big framed photograph. "Wooyooung is a photographer, he always had a incredible eye for aesthetic and when he grabs his camera, you can be sure to see a masterpiece as result. He actually has his own gallery, but he gifted me some pieces as welcome present to my first own studio. He helped me a lot building this place."

Your eyes went even bigger as you continued listening to every word San said. He gestured to the angel stature and his smile got soft. "Yeosang is a Stone sculpturor, but if you ask me he should sculpture himself as well cause with his looks he doesn't stand the figures he creates behind in anything at all. I'm sure Michael Angelo would have taken him as student and muse if he would be alive still. His skills are impeccable, even if what he creates sometimes tends to be melancholic." He said as he grazed his hand softly over the broken wings of the crying angel.

You didn't take your eyes away from the stature, too much in awe about its raw beauty to look back at San. "Everything here is incredibly beautiful and has so much meaning behind it, this is breathtaking." You almost whispered as your finger softly touched the forever rolling tear of the angel.

You walked a bit further and carefully grazed your hand over one perfectly tailored mug, it resembled london as you quickly realized with the big ben in the background and a person that seemed to wait for something.

"What's your favorite style?" You asked him as you wondered if he drew the places on pottery that he visited or knew.

A soft smile appeared on your lips at a old memory of your trip there years back for your year abroad.

San sighed as he eyed the mug you softly cradled in your hand. "I don't think I have found my personal style yet, I'm relatively new with painting detailed pieces. I used to just glaze the pieces over in white. It's timeless and classic."

You nodded in agreement. "Does this one has a story? Looking at your work I would say you're a really talented painter as wellby the way."

San leaned against his desk in thought, thinking your words over in his mind as he looked around the office. "Isn't that what art of any kind is about? A purpose or a story that needs or should to be told? Like for example you chose a vase, is there a story behind it? Cause I could think there is one." He asked as he turned his attention on you with a raised brow and a twitch of his lips.

You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. "Well, in my defense I really need a vase. Mine broke months back and since then I haven't been able to buy flowers anymore." You quickly blurted out.

San laughed quietly and opened his mouth to say something but you were faster. "Anyways, you don't need to talk about it when it's too personal. What I was trying to say was that your art is incredible. I'm glad I chose your studio to learn pottery." You followed up saying, trying to erase your embarrassment.

San's cheeks got a slight bit colored and you saw a hint of a dimple as he rubbed his neck awkwardly. "Thank you, shall we continue?"

You nodded and strolled back towards your work station, happy that he didn’t further commented on your choice of work for today.

Once you were seated again, he wet his hands and got the round plate of the workstation spinning. You watched him closely and imitated his movements, your eyes glued to his strong hands as he softly worked on the clay and managed to get the clay to part to a hole on the middle.

Surprisingly enough, you managed to do the same on the first try. A happy laugh bubbled up inside you, as you eyed his next movements like a hawke.

"For the next step, you have press from both the inside and the outside against the clay to thin it out while you also pull it slightly upwards to shape it to your liking." He explained as he wet his hands in the bowl a bit more and slowly did what he explained.

He made sure to place his hands and arms in a way that you would be able to see it perfectly from your seat.

When he was done with that part, he turned off the workstation and turned towards you.

You could easily make out the bigger body and slimmer neck of the vase, when the spinning lessened you had to say it already looked damn near perfect.

Your eyes connected with his for a second, and you saw nothing but kindness and patience in his eyes as he waited for you to start.

With a deep breath, you turned on the workstation with the button on the side, and wet your hands in the bowl with warm water.

You felt San move a bit closer, but paid no attention to him as you set your hands both on the inside and outside of the cool clay.

You recalled his instructions from ealier and started carefully molding the clay. At first it was a bit difficult because even after all the kneading, the clay felt a bit dense.

But easily enough you saw it get thinner and wobblier. It started to seem to spin out of control, and San quickly rolled his chair behind you.

His hands smoothed over yours as he pushed away your foot from the pedal to take control over the spinning speed of the table.

His warm hands engulfed yours easily, as he lessened the pressure you put on the vase. You watched it regain its composure almost immediately.

You felt his warm breath tickle the side of your neck as he leaned his head forward, at your back you softly felt his chest against you.

Your heart started racing as you watched him guide your hands over the body of the vase in an attempt to save it and to even out the thickness of it, seeing as it was pretty uneven. "The first attempts are always a bit out of control, that's totally fine and normal. When you feel it getting out of hand, you have to lessen the speed of the rotation disk. Otherwise you risk the clay to smack into your face."

He explained as you felt his thigh muscles contort and bump against your leg when he showed you how the speed would affect the rotation disk.

You felt your cheeks grow hot and you got unbearably warm. Your mind only seemed to care about his close proximity and his incredibly good smelling perfume. Of how his hands felt around yours and the breath of him that tickled your neck with each breath he took.

You watched as the clay induced liquid rushed over and between your hands as he started forming the neckline of the vase together with you. You caught yourself slightly glancing over towards his face that almost rested on your shoulder and noticed a few lose strands hanging close to his eyes, it was a effort to not automatically reach out and swipe them away.

You shook your head slightly to clear your thoughts, and averted your eyes back towards your forming Vase. He adjusted your fingers on the vase slightly and applied a bit of pressure to your grip before he spoke next. "When you use just about the right amount of pressure, it will turn out just how you want it. This is about the thickness it needs to ensure it's stable and won't break while burning." His voice was raspy and close to your which didn't help your current situation at all. You took a small breath as your legs pressed together Involuntarily.

You nodded, not trusting your voice to not betray you more than your body already did. He angled his arms a bit more to be able to guide you better and in the process his back was now flushed against your back and his arms were pressed against yours further which caused tiny goosebumps and a shiver through out your arms and the back of your neck.

You could swear you heard his breath hitch for a second but you wouldn't allow to let your mind travel to the possibility that he was reacting to you the same way as you reacted to him.

You watched as he guided your hands further up the neck to work on the top rim of the vase. He let go of your hands and dipped them into the bowl quickly and set his hands back on yours.

His head turned towards you slightly. "Do you like it like this? Or should we try out another Design?"

The air rushed out of your lungs as he accidentally grazed your ear while speaking, your back pressed against his chest slightly in response.

You quickly opened your eyes in mortification and quickly shot up from your seat, hitting yourself on the workstation hard enough to probably leave a bruise behind as you fumbled your way out from being wedged between San and the workstation.

You dipped your hands in the now tainted water and wiped your hands on the apron, before you removed your the cardigan and walked the few steps towards your bag to place it on top carefully.

You felt San's presence somewhere behind you vividly, which only worsened the throbbing inside of you. "I gotta use the restroom real quick." You all but blurted out as you quickly exited the room.

You had no clue where said toilet was but you needed distance before you would jump him.

"Second door on the right!" He called after you from where he stood as you barged through the door and almost ran into the restroom.

Once the door was locked, you rested your back against the cool wood and slid down to a crouch.

Deep breaths. In and out. Calm down. You can do this.

After collecting your thoughts for a second, you went up to the sink and splashed your face with ice cold water to get a grip.

Your hands gripped the edge of the marble sink tightly as you eyed yourself in the mirror. "Calm down and focus!" You told yourself with strict face before you patted your face dry and unlocked the door.

The temperature in the lobby felt significantly colder which you gladly welcomed as you walked up to the little table in the sitting area and poured yourself a glass of water from the pitcher.

You took a deep gulp to get rid of your dry mouth as you peaked inside the studio again. You didn’t see him immediately, but you spotted his work station empty.

You stepped inside quietly, scanning the room quickly and spotted leaning against his desk in thoughts.

He wasn't turned towards you, instead he seemed to watch the vase, his vase, do it's thing in the fire oven.

You creeped a bit closer towards him, gripping your water in a death grip as your heart was beating a thousand miles an hour. Once you caught up to him and only a few steps separated you, you cleared your throat to announce your presence without startling him.

His head snapped in your direction and he straightened, before you saw him made a step towards you. "I'm sorry." His voice sounded sincere, but his eyes seemed to hold that same barely contained restraining that you were sure would be mirrored on your own eyes as well. "I'm sorry if I acted unprofessionally towards you, I don't know what I was thinking."

He turned away from you and your had to strain your ears to hear his next words. "That's what I should say, right? Even if I don't mean it." He raked his hands through his hair frustratedly.

Your stomach tightened as you registered his words and saw his exquisite back muscles flex with his movement.

You made a step towards him, as you felt your need coursing through your body violently. That much for calming down.

You set the glass of water down on his desk, as he turned back towards you quickly. His gaze was wild and pure of need as he fixated your full lips and then your eyes. "You know what? I'm actually not sorry. Since you walked in, I can't think fucking straight. I should be professional, I know that, but all I can think about since you stepped into my studio are all the different ways I could fuck you senseless inside of this god damn place. I just want to-"

You didn't let him finish as you closed the distance between you in light speed and crashed your lips against his.

He caught you around your waist reflexively as he tensed up for a second, but then his restrain snapped as grabbed you by your neck and janked you flush against his chest.

A small moan left your lips when your hips connected with his and you felt him hard against your stomach.

You felt his tongue graze over your teeth, asking you for entrance and without thinking twice you let him in. Your tongues started a instant battle for dominance, as you moved your hands through his silken hair and tugged slightly.

You could feel him smirk against your lips as he pushed you back until your ass connected with the desk.

His hands wandered down your sides, setting every inch of clothed skin on fire until he reached your thighs, he gave you a little nudge and you jumped enough to up wrap your legs around his waist thightly.

His hips pushed you onto the table hard and another moan left you at the sensation. His mouth started traveling from your lips onto your neck where his tongue drew lazy circles over your sensitive spot. You felt the fabric of his shirt wrinkle under your tightly fisted hands on his chest as you moaned his name.

One of his hands rested flatly on the desk while his other sneaked over your shoulder in a feather light touch and pulled your straps down, fully in contrast to his wicked tongue. "Please." You bagged as you tugging on his shirt.

He sucked sharply on your neck in response, as your head fell back from the sensation. "Please, what sweetheart? Use your words."

Your back arched as he kissed his way further down your neck. He softly pushed down your tanktop until it pooled at your hips as he clasped open your Bra with his other hand. Out of the corner from your eye you saw your Bra flying to a random corner. "P-please touch me." You begged again as your hand went back to his hair and fisted it?

His indexfinger travelled from your bare right shoulder down onto your hard nipple, where he gave you a slight pinch. "That's what I'm doing right now, no?"

Before you could respond his mouth cupped your other boob and his teeth grazed your sensitive skin.

You pulled on his shirt frantically, desperate to feel his skin under your finger tips. As a whine left your lips, the feeling already overwhelming but at the same time not enough. He released your boob with a pop. "So responsive." He smirked and pulled the shirt over his head to give you a perfect view of his incredible physic.

You let your hand wander over his soft and muscular skin. A growl left his lips as he gripped your wrist and yanked you towards him, his lips crashing on yours in a devouring kiss again.

He unbuttoned your jeans in a swift move and linked his thumbs in the fabric of your jeans as he janked town both your pants and underwear down in one move.

His indexfinger with the golden ring travelled up your bare tigh before it disappeared between your legs where he raked a finger through your soaking folds. Your head fell back in bliss. "Gods"

San eyed your expressions like a hawk, as he cupped you and dipped a two fingers inside of you. Your walls tightened against him as he started pumping inside of you. Your hand gripped his biceps forcefully as your hips rocked against his fingers, taking everything you would get.

Endless moans echoed through the studio as he crashed his lips back on yours. He slightly bit your bottom lip as he curled his fingers inside of you which made you scream out his name.

You could feel your release rapidly build inside of you. "Please.... I'm..." You managed to say, but it was all to overwhelming.

San shook his head with a smirk as he removed his fingers from inside of you. "You're finished when I let you. And I'm dying for a taste." He all but purred before he settled between your legs and looked up at you directly.

It took all your left restrained to not come at that sight directly, and he seemed to notice it, because he grabbed your knees and spread you apart further before he placed your legs on his shoulders.

His smile was deadly as he eyed your bareness before him and dived in light speed.

His tongue laid flat against you as he swiped up your center, your head rolled back as a loud moan left your lips.

San's hands flexed around your thighs as he pulled you closer to wards him. He backed up enough to look back at you. "I want you to look at me, sweetheart."

Your eyes found him reflexively as he dived back in and dipped his tongue inside of you. A rumbling moan left his lips as he started devouring you like a starved man.

While your hips ground against his face shamelessly and greedily. You felt your climax build up in light speed as your legs started trembling. He sucked in your bundle of nerves once twice and your hands gripped his fair painfully. "Come." He ordered and thats all it took as you screamed his name and started seeing stars.

Your release washed over you in intense waves as he picked up every drop of you greedily. You were still shaking uncontrollably as he got up and pulled you flush against his bare chest. His lips found yours and you could taste yourself on him as he spinned you around and bend you down on the desk.

You heard him shuffle and open a condom behind you as your head laid on the side, eying the crying angel stature.

His hand trailed up your spine sensually as he wedged his bare leg between yours and spread your legs apart. You felt his chest against your back, and your ass instinctively pushed back against him.

You felt him twitch against your entrance, as his mouth nipped on your ear before he gave you another soft kiss on your neck.

Without another warning he gripped your hair in his hand and janked your head back as he slammed into you fully. A scream left your lips at the feel of him inside you.

San's voice sounded taut as he pounded into you with enough force to make the whole table move. "Fuck, you're tight."

You slammed your ass back against his hips in desperation as he pulled out of you almost fully and slammed back into you. "You're perfect." He groud out betwen his teeth before his lips found your shouder where he gave you a small kiss.

The glass you set on the table ealier, spilled more and more water on the table but you couldn't give less of a fuck as it just like you for the second time in a row edged closer to destruction.

His lips slammed back on yours as he picked up speed, a trail of moans left both your lips as he pounded in you mercilessly. The scandalous sound of smaking skin, moaning and harsh breathing almost overshadowed the scraping of the table as it moved further and further towards the wall opposite of you.

His movements grew slowly erratic, indicating you that he too was close. As his other hand wandered between your legs where his index finger drew lazy circles around your bud.

You screamed his name as you started shaking and saw blinding white light and stars. His other hand drew soothing circles against your back, much in contrast to his harsh thrusts that had his balls slamming against you with force repeatedly and said. "Let go."

Your back arched and your ass slammed back against him with force as your hands gripped the edge of the desk so hard it was starting to hurt as another scream raked through your body and shattered you into sweet oblivion.

San cursed under his breath as you felt him twitch hard inside your spasming walls. He thrust in you a few more more times, before he too came apart inside of you with a curse of your name on his lips as he rode out both your highs.

Once your both caught your breath a bit he pulled out of you slowly but continued drawing soothing circles on your back. "You know, I've been dreaming of seeing you again from the moment I saw you that day by the namsan tower years back."

Your eyes snapped open in shock, that day you saw him, you realized now. Across the crowd you noticed him and his friends and already back then your breath caught in your lungs.

You've been staring at one another for few seconds when he made a step towards you, waving some of of the peddles from his view.

You were just about to make a step towards them too before your best friend pulled you with her towards the boarding bus.

It followed you for a while on vacation, but you eventually forgot about him. Hell, you didn't even trust yourself that you didn't make the whole thing up back then seeing as your best friend didn't see them at all and said you're crazy.

His Hand massaged the back of your neck under your hair softly. "You asked about the mug earlier, I made it as first art piece once I arrived back home. I was searching for you everywhere that day after you left with your friend, but I couldn't find you."

You set back up on the table as he went up to the sink to wet up a clean cloth, you didn't notice it before but you saw now that he was wearing his underwear again and a loose white shirt.

You pulled up your tanktop again but were still in shock about his recent words. "It's been you? I wasn't sure if I didn't make you up in my mind. My best friend didn't see you guys and said I'm delusional." You laughed to yourself as you already looked forward to clowning her about the whole thing.

After he carefully cleaned you up, he sat you back down on your feet and you quickly pulled up your pants as he did the same.

"Wooyoung never really stopped looking for your friend either by the way. He said she would be his perfect muse." He said with a smirk that highted his dimples even more.

A soft laugh escaped you as a thought formed in your mind. "You just gave me an idea for her next single workshop." San mirrored your knowing smirk as he laced your hand with his and led you towards the work station and your almost finished vase.

He turned towards you with a shy smile. "It might be a bit out of order, but would you like to go on a date with me? I would love to see where our story goes."

You gave him a big smile in return and nodded your head. "I would actually love that."

He took a seat on his spinning chair and pulled you onto his lap before he gave you a kiss on your temple and turned he workstation back on before wet his hands. "Let's start with finishing up your work first."

--

A/n: I tried to proofread this FF as best as I could, but English isn't my first language, and I'm dyslexic so I apologize for the eventual mistakes. I hope you liked this ff.

Little Bonus: I found this while looking for inspos for the thumbnail pic. ♡

[that-boleyn-boy]

Give us the Infodump !!

>_<

Oki dokes!! So the whole thing was based around the idea of “what if Caitlyn met Isha while being involved with Jinx and they grew close”. Very found family, very silly, had lighthearted intent originally.

And then I remembered that Isha dies.

So, taking it from the top (copy and pasted ramble btw)

What if Caitlyn grows close to Jinx and Isha . She’s got a family again, Jinx and Isha filling the voids left behind by her family and Vi. Her, Jinx, and Isha sit in a little circle coming up with new signs for Isha to use. Isha likes to sit in Cait's lap and play with her hair since Caitlyn wears it down around them. Isha suggests the idea of dyeing a streak of Caitlyn's hair light blue, specifically the bit that hangs on the left side of her face when she has her bun. Caitlyn isn't super down with the idea at first, not knowing how people topside would react but she can't just say no to Isha. So one day she leaves with a blue streak in her hair and dye on her face. Jinx offers to give Caitlyn her first tattoo but Caitlyn wants it to be a surprise for her and Isha. She ends up mirroring Jinx’s cloud tattoos and getting Isha’s helmet tattooed. Jinx dismisses it a bit, but cries once Caitlyn leaves.

Caitlyn would cover Isha with her cape and let her like hide in it when she wore it. Caitlyn being the overachiever she is, probably knows sign language or at least knows a bit, and she taught Isha how to sign “I love you.”

Isha never used it until she was fighting Warwick.

Speaking of which. During the battle against Warwick Caitlyn gets injured trying to get to Isha before she sacrifices herself. She tries to claw her way closer, pushing and shoving to try and protect Isha. Vi is protecting Jinx, and Caitlyn gets wounded and collapses, trying to pull herself closer in a pathetic attempt to save Isha. She’s frantic when she wakes up from being unconscious. She stumbles through her house, calling the girl’s name, hoping that by some slim chance, Isha will run up to her and give her the same hug Isha would give whenever Caitlyn visited Jinx. She blames herself every day for it. If she’d just been a bit faster, a bit stronger, a bit tougher, Isha could be alive. Even once the war is over, she wakes up and expects Jinx and Isha to be there with her, Isha cuddled between the two. She cries every time it happens.

After the war, she learns how to embroider and adds the little swirl design Isha had on her goggles onto her eyepatch. Whenever Caitlyn sees a kid playing with their older sibling or their mom she has to take a moment to steady herself. It’s not Isha. It’s not Jinx. It’s not Jayce. It’s not Cassandra. Caitlyn searches the vents of the hexgates every time she can, looking for Jinx, hoping that she’ll find something. Before the battle Caitlyn painstakingly paints the Kiramman crest on Jinx’s back.

“This is a one time thing, got it? I wont associate with any other fancy Piltie house,”

“I know baby. I’m almost done,”

Eventually she finds a bit of paint, it’s the same color that she painted the crest with. Caitlyn breaks down, leaving things that Jinx liked down there, hoping that when she goes down again, something will be moved, food eaten, anything. She leaves stuffed toys Jinx liked, snacks Jinx would eat, drawings that her, Jinx, and Isha made together. She gets her hopes up every time. She’ll embroider pieces of clothing with designs that remind her of Jinx, clouds, bullets, “X” designs, etc. She knows it’s in vain but she can’t help it.

The reason she’s so convinced that Jinx is alive is A. She’s gay and pathetic and very sad, and B. A little while after the finale, Caitlyn finds a box of eye patches on her desk. All of them are colorful and customized, all in Jinx’s style.

[sleekervae]

Flickers | the projectionist (johnny) x reader

Masterlist

A/N: had this idea knocking around in my head for a few days. And while still not clear on his real name in the movie, I'm going with Johnny for simplicity sake.

Pairing: the projectionist (johnny) x fem!reader

Summary: late night at the cinema and a salacious book has poor johnny in a bind for his colleague.

Warnings: erotic writing, heavy smut, oral, penetration, nudity

Word Count: 4,436

Johnny first met Sophie on the tail end of a smoky September evening, the air thick with the scent of roasted peanuts from the vendor outside the theater. She was leaning against the wall near the alley, cigarette perched between her fingers, looking every bit like she belonged in one of those French pictures he sometimes screened after hours. Her boss—a producer Johnny had worked with before—had sent her ahead to fetch some reels, but it was clear from the way she moved, slow and deliberate, that Sophie wasn’t the type to rush.

She was all sharp cheekbones and sharper wit, her dark hair pinned back haphazardly as though she’d stopped caring halfway through the task. When she introduced herself, her tone was low and indifferent, like she wasn’t used to people looking twice at her. Johnny had glanced down at her shoes—simple flats, scuffed at the edges—and wondered if she realized how much attention her quiet presence commanded.

At first, they only spoke in passing, exchanging a few words while Sophie handled errands for her boss. But over time, she lingered. She’d stay after picking up reels or dropping off schedules, watching him from the doorway as he adjusted the projector.

“I didn’t think anyone still cared about this old junk,” she remarked once, arms crossed, her voice carrying a trace of amusement.

Johnny looked up from splicing a reel, the dim light catching on her pale skin. “Well, someone’s gotta make sure it runs smooth. Besides, this junk’s how I pay rent.”

She laughed—a low, throaty sound—and it hit him harder than he expected.

It wasn’t long before she started coming around on her own time, sitting in the empty theater while he threaded film for the midnight show. She’d sit near the back, legs crossed, watching the flickering images with an intensity that made him uneasy in the best way. One night, she waited until the credits rolled to ask him:

“You ever think about what’s not on the screen? The stuff they won’t show?”

It was an odd question, but Sophie was full of those. Her curiosity was sharp and relentless, poking at ideas most people shied away from. Johnny didn’t know what to say, so she filled the silence herself, telling him about the scripts she was working on.

“They’re not normal,” she admitted, the word slipping out like a taunt. “Producers don’t like ‘em. Too weird. Too… honest.”

She wouldn’t let him read them at first, claiming they weren’t ready. But she couldn’t resist teasing him with snippets. A line of dialogue here, a provocative idea there. The more she shared, the more Johnny’s imagination took off. Her writing was raw, full of heat and longing that had nothing to do with love and everything to do with desire.

It wasn’t just her words that got under his skin. It was the way she said them—leaning close, her voice barely above a whisper, like she was sharing a secret too dangerous for anyone else to hear. Her eyes would linger on him, searching for a reaction, and he’d have to fight the urge to shift under her gaze.

Johnny wasn’t sure when he started picturing her in the scenarios she described, but once the idea took root, it spread fast. He’d catch himself watching her hands as she gestured, wondering what they’d feel like on his skin. He started noticing the curve of her lips when she spoke, the slight rasp in her voice that made everything she said sound like a proposition.

He told himself it was just curiosity—admiration for her creativity, maybe—but the truth sat heavier in his chest. Johnny was down bad for Sophie, the way she embraced the messy, carnal parts of human nature without apology. She made him feel like a character in one of her stories, teetering on the edge of something raw and thrilling.

And maybe, just maybe, he wanted to see how far she’d let him fall.

It was one of those late nights where the air in the projection room felt heavy, the low hum of the machines lulling them into an easy rhythm. Sophie had perched herself in the chair in the corner, legs crossed, cigarette forgotten between her fingers.

“You really want to read it?” she asked, her voice a little too casual.

Johnny didn’t look up from the reel he was inspecting, though his hands faltered for half a beat. “Been asking you for weeks, haven’t I?”

Sophie smirked, but there was something sharper underneath it, like she was testing him. She reached into her bag and pulled out a neatly folded stack of pages, bound with a frayed ribbon.

“Fine. But don’t blame me if it messes with your head,” she said, tossing it onto the counter.

He wiped his hands on his trousers before picking it up, the weight of her work feeling heavier than it should’ve. The title scrawled across the top in her loopy handwriting read Flickers.

Johnny picked the script off the counter, his fingers brushing the ribbon binding it together. The room felt warmer now, Sophie’s proximity a heavy presence that made it harder to focus. He flipped through the pages until he landed on a scene near the middle—words catching his eye like fireflies in the dark.

He cleared his throat, half for himself and half to test the waters. “Mind if I…”

Sophie raised a brow, but there was a softness to her smirk. “Go ahead... If you dare.”

The challenge in her voice spurred him on, and he began to read.

“'Paul's hands traced the curves of her body, firm and possessive. His voice was a husky whisper in her ear as he demanded, "Tell me how much you want me." Lucille gasped, her body responding eagerly, guiding his hands to where she needed him most.'

“'His grip tightened around her as he felt her body molding to his touch, her warmth enveloping him. His tongue darted out to taste her skin, and she shivered beneath him in response. She arched her back, pushing herself closer to him as he traced patterns over her stomach and sides with his fingers. The softness of her skin sent shockwaves of desire through him, and he growled low in his throat. His hands found their way up to cup her breasts, kneading them gently before pulling on her nipples through the fabric of her shirt. Lucille threw her head back with a soft moan, the sound echoing in the room. Her scent was intoxicating—a mix of sweet perfume and primal need.”

Johnny paused, his voice trailing off as he glanced up. Sophie had turned her face away, her dark lashes casting shadows against her cheeks. But she wasn’t as indifferent as she pretended to be—he caught the faintest curve of her lips, a smile threatening to give her away.

“Keep going,” she said softly, her tone lacking the teasing edge it usually carried.

Johnny swallowed, taking a seat in the chair beside her, “You sure?”

Her eyes flicked to his, holding his gaze for just a moment too long. “I’m sure.”

He returned to the page, his voice lower now, threading through the quiet tension between them.

“‘You like watching me unravel,’ Paul murmured, his hands tightening on her waist. ‘Does it make you feel powerful?’

“She smiled—a wicked, knowing smile that sent a shiver down his spine. ‘It makes me feel alive.’

“With one swift motion, Paul pulled back Lucille's bustier, revealing supple curves that seemed endless in the dim light. He ran his hands along the smooth expanse of skin, tracing patterns that made her gasp and squirm beneath him. His lips followed suit, kissing and nipping along her collarbone and down towards her breasts. They stood tall and proud under his admiring gaze, begging for attention. With a soft sigh, he bent down to capture one nipple in his mouth, sucking gently at first before increasing the pressure. Lucille cried out, her fingers tangling in his hair as she arched her back off the bed.”

Johnny stopped again, unable to ignore the way Sophie shifted closer to him, her knee brushing against his thigh. “This is… something else,” he murmured, not realizing he’d said it out loud.

Sophie finally turned to him, her cheeks flushed but her smile unshaken. “You like it?”

He let out a low laugh, setting the script down but keeping his eyes on her. “I think you’re trying to get me in trouble.”

She bit her lip, that wicked, knowing smile from the page mirrored on her face now. “Or maybe I just know what I want,” she said, her voice quiet but sure, “Keep going,” she urged.

The room suddenly felt claustrophobic as the scene unfold. His heart raced as Paul buried himself between Lucille's legs, read how she moaned and screamed for him, their encounter brimming with unbridled desire. Every word and gesture built to a tantalizing climax, sending Johnny's mind reeling with fantasies. But it wasn't Paul or Lucille anymore; it was him and Sophie. Her seductive smirk and intense gaze held him spellbound, igniting a fire within him that he could not resist.

“You write like this all the time?” he asked, his voice rougher than he intended.

“Only when I feel inspired,” Sophie replied, standing now. She stepped closer, her movements deliberate, as though testing just how far she could push him. “What do you think?”

“I think…” He set the pages down, forcing himself to meet her gaze. “I think you know exactly what you’re doing.”

Her lips curled into a grin. “Do I?”

The silence between them thickened, charged with all the things Johnny wasn’t saying. The way her scripts had lodged themselves in his brain, filling the quiet moments with flashes of heat. The way she seemed to know, without him ever admitting it, how badly he wanted her.

Sophie closed the distance between them, stopping just short of touching him. “If you’re too shy to finish, I can always act it out for you,” she teased, her voice barely above a whisper.

Johnny’s breath hitched. He couldn’t tell if she was joking, but the way her eyes lingered on his lips told him she wasn’t.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he warned, though his voice lacked conviction.

Sophie smirked, leaning in until her mouth was inches from his. “Who says I can’t?”

And that was it—whatever thin thread of control Johnny had been clinging to snapped. He closed the gap, his hands gripping her waist as their mouths collided. She tasted like smoke and something sweeter, her body pressing into his as though daring him to take more.

The pages of her script fluttered to the floor, forgotten, as Johnny pulled her into his lap, her legs falling on either side of him. Sophie’s fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, her breath hitching against his lips. She didn’t hold back—her movements were confident, commanding, like she’d been waiting for this moment as much as he had.

For Johnny, it wasn’t just about the heat of the moment. It was the way Sophie unraveled him, her words and presence stripping him bare until there was nothing left but want. She made him feel like he was part of her story, and for once, he didn’t care if it had a happy ending.

The room was awash with raw desire and urgency as Johnny's hands fumbled to undo the intricate clasps of Sophie's bustier, the fabric falling away to reveal the soft curve of her skin. Sophie's nails grazed down his chest, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, as she leaned in to capture his lips hungrily. The sound of fabric tearing filled the air as Johnny tore off her dress in a rush, his movements desperate and primal.

Sophie gasped against his mouth, arching into his touch as he explored every inch of her exposed skin. Her hands were everywhere at once, tugging at his tie and unbuttoning his shirt with a fervor that matched his own. The air crackled with electricity between them, passion igniting like a wildfire that threatened to consume them whole.

Their kiss deepened, becoming a symphony of need and longing that echoed through the room. Johnny's hands roamed over Sophie's body, memorizing every curve and

dip, every smooth plane and luscious valley that lay beneath the surface. He traced her spine with reverence, his fingers dancing down the small of her back and around to cup her hip, pulling her against him in a desperate plea for contact.

Sophie whimpered into his mouth, her own hands finding their way beneath his shirt, tracing the muscular lines of his abdomen as she felt the heat radiating off of him. The fire between them was building, growing in intensity until it threatened to consume them both in its fervor. She couldn't remember ever feeling this way before – so alive, so consumed by a need that seemed to pulse through her very veins.

And then Johnny's lips were on her neck, trailing kisses down to where her pulse raced wildly beneath the surface. And despite herself, Sophie's knees began to weaken. His teeth gently nipped at the tender skin of her shoulder, sending shivers of desire coursing through her veins. She could feel the heat from his body seeping into hers, warming her to her very core. And as much as she tried to fight it, it was impossible to deny the sheer power that he held over her in this moment.

The room was spinning with a mix of lust and adrenaline, the two of them lost in a whirlwind of passion that threatened to consume them both. Johnny's breath was hot against her skin, his lips trailing kisses down her neck and across her collarbone until he finally reached the delicate curve of her breasts.

She gasped as he took one in his mouth, sucking gently on the taut nipple while running his hands down over her hips and towards the sway of her backside. Sophie moaned softly into his hair, her hands fisting in his shirt as she arched her back, the pleasure coursing through her. This was beyond anything she'd ever experienced, anything she could write—a fire burning bright within her that only he could fan into flames.

As his lips moved from one breast to the other, Sophie's breath became ragged, her body trembling with need. Her fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him closer still. She felt like she was dancing on the edge of something dangerous and exhilarating, and she was powerless to resist it.

Johnny's hands trailed down her back, tracing the curve of her hips before sliding beneath her, lifting her onto the chair. She let out a soft gasp as he settled her onto the wooden frame, his strong arms supporting her weight. The room was filled with a heavy silence punctuated only by their ragged breathing and the sound of fabric rustling as they tore at each other's clothes.

With an unspoken demand, Johnny lifted her gently and placed her on the small wooden table in the corner of the room. Her breath hitched as she realized how exposed she was, how vulnerable she felt. But in that moment, she didn't want to be anywhere else. She wanted him to take her, to claim her with a passion and intensity that was like nothing she'd ever known.

Johnny pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his hands firm but tender as they settled on her thighs. “Hold on,” he murmured, his voice thick with restraint.

Sophie blinked, her lips parted in protest, but he silenced her with a smirk that promised he wasn’t going far. He strode to the projection room door, turning the lock with a decisive click that echoed through the space.

“No interruptions,” he said, more to himself than her, before his eyes flicked back to her.

Sophie was still perched on the table, her legs slightly apart, the hem of her skirt riding dangerously high. She looked at him with a mix of confidence and vulnerability, her breath shallow as he crossed the room again.

“And here — I thought you changed your mind,” she teased, though her voice wavered slightly.

Johnny’s grin deepened, his eyes dark and intent as he stepped closer. His hands settled on her waist, drawing her toward the edge of the table with an easy confidence. “Couldn’t have that,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “Not when you look at me like that.”

He leaned in, his lips brushing the corner of her mouth, his words a whispered promise against her skin. “Not when I’ve been dying to know how far you’ll let me go.”

Her gasp turned into a moan as his hands slid down, tracing the curve of her hips before tugging her closer. Sophie gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles white, as Johnny’s mouth moved to her neck, his stubble rough against her soft skin.

“Johnny…” she whispered, her voice breathless and pleading.

“Shh,” he murmured, his lips trailing lower. “You don’t want anyone hearing us, do you?”

He continued, his touch feather-light as he traced the delicate line of her stomach, her skin quivering beneath his fingers. Sophie bit her lip, her eyes closing as he marveled at the way her body arched towards him.

As she felt his fingers slide under the hem of her undergarments, she caught her breath in a sharp gasp. He looked up at her from where he knelt, his eyes dark with desire and a hint of fear. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice barely audible over the pounding of their hearts.

Sophie nodded, an array of emotions playing across her face as she met his gaze. "Yes," she murmured, her voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and fear. She wanted this; she needed this.

Johnny's eyes locked onto hers for a moment longer before they flicked lower, the heat of desire still smouldering in their depth. He took a shuddering breath, his hands steady as he pulled her underwear down, revealing the most intimate part of her. For a moment, he simply looked, drinking in the sight of her before him.

Sophie's heart threatened to burst from her chest, the sight of Johnny looking at her like that making her feel powerful and delicate all at once. She wanted to reach out and touch him, to pull him closer and reassure him that she was alright. But she also craved the touch of his skin against hers, the warmth of his body enveloping hers in passion's embrace.

With a deep inhale, Johnny let his fingers brush against the sensitive skin before him. Sophie let out a soft moan, her eyes fluttering shut as waves of pleasure washed over her. His touch was gentle yet firm, as if he were caressing a delicate flower with utmost care. She felt herself growing warmer, her body trembling with anticipation.

Johnny's eyes met hers, the intensity of his gaze making her heart flutter. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her skin as he placed soft kisses along her inner thigh. Sophie let out a shaky sigh, her hands gripping the edge of the table tightly as she felt the world around her fade away.

There was something magical about this moment, something that she knew would stay with her for eternity. Johnny's experience and passion were intertwined with her own desires, creating a symphony of touch and emotion. His hands traced delicate patterns on her skin, sending shivers down her spine and causing a fire to ignite within her core.

As his lips brushed against her folds, Sophie's breath hitched. The room was filled with the sounds of pleasure and need, of their bodies speaking volumes without a single word being spoken. She could feel Johnny's warmth at her entrance, the anticipation of what was to come making her tremble with excitement.

Johnny then descended upon Sophie's slick, wet pussy like a starved animal. His tongue delved into her folds, tasting her sweet nectar, as his lips wrapped around her clit and sucked gently. Sophie's back arched out as a moan escaped her lips. Her fingers threaded through Johnny's hair, pulling him closer as he devoured her.

His tongue darted in and out of her pussy, fucking her with it like a little cock. He teased her entrance, tasting her sweet juices before plunging deeper. Sophie's hips bucked as she ground herself against his face, desperate for more. Her moans grew louder as her pleasure built, her breath hitching with every flick of Johnny's tongue against her clit.

Her legs trembled as she felt her orgasm building. Johnny's skilled tongue worked her into a frenzy, his fingers digging into her thighs as he held her in place. She could feel herself on the edge, ready to tumble over into pure ecstasy. With one final flick of his tongue, Sophie came undone.

Her orgasm tore through her like a tidal wave. Sophie's eyes rolled back into her head as she cried out in pleasure. Johnny continued to lick and suck at her pussy, drawing out every last shiver and shudder of her orgasm. When Sophie finally came down from her high, Johnny looked up at her with a smug smile on his face.

"Good girl," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "You taste so fucking sweet."

Sophie could only blush and pant in response, still reeling from the most intense orgasm of her life. Johnny's mouth on her pussy had been filthy and depraved, but she couldn't get enough. She knew she'd be begging for more in no time.

With a smile that promised more, Johnny stood and pulled his pants down, his impressive erection bobbing in front of them. Sophie smiled up at him, her heart hammering in her chest. She reached out to him, her fingers tracing the length of his cock.

"Take me," she whispered, her voice full of desire. "I’m all yours, Johnny."

Johnny positioned himself at Sophie's entrance and slowly pushed inside. She gasped at the sensation of him filling her up, stretching her tight hole until she was overflowing with him. He began to move, his body slamming into hers with a rhythm that matched their hearts' desires.

Sophie's eyes fluttered closed as she felt Johnny's cock pound against her insides. She met every stroke with a moan or a whimper, her nails digging into his shoulders as she held onto him for dear life. The room was filled with the sounds of their bodies colliding—skin slapping against skin, breaths becoming ragged gasps for air.

The air in the room was thick, their bodies entwined in a rhythm that left no room for restraint. Johnny's movements were deliberate yet teasing, each thrust pulling a gasp from Sophie's lips. His mouth found her ear, his breath hot and unrelenting as he whispered.

"Is this how you pictured it?" he murmured, his tone laced with a wicked edge. "When you wrote those words—was it me you imagined, Sophie?"

Her hands clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as she tried to find balance amidst the chaos he was unleashing on her. She couldn’t answer, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe beyond the sensation of him inside her.

"You’ve got a filthy imagination," Johnny continued, his voice dripping with mock admonishment, though his thrusts deepened with every word. "I read every line, you know. Every single detail. Do you squirm when you write it? Did you get this wet just thinking about it?"

Sophie’s moan was all the response he needed, her head falling back as she clung to him, desperate for more. Her body betrayed her, arching into his touch, meeting every movement with equal fervor.

He chuckled, low and rough, his teeth grazing her neck. "Thought so. You’re squeezing me like you never want me to stop." His hand slid to her thigh, lifting it higher to anchor her against him. "So tell me, Sophie—am I better than your story?"

Her breath hitched, and she forced herself to meet his gaze, her cheeks flushed with heat. “Y-you’re better,” she managed, though her voice was barely a whisper, “So fucking better.”

"That’s what I thought," Johnny growled, his lips crashing against hers as he drove them both closer to the edge. Sophie arched her back as he reached between them to rub circles on her clit with his thumb.

"Come for me again," he commanded, nibbling at her ear while still teasing her clit. With a cry, Sophie obeyed, her body shuddering with pleasure. Her walls clenched around him, milking his cock as he continued to move inside her.

Never had she felt so alive, so desired. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and sex as their bodies moved as one, lost in the haze of desire and passion. Johnny's lips found hers once more, their tongues tangling in a messy dance of lust and love.

He pulled out at the last moment, his come splattering against her swollen clit. She cried out in ecstasy as he filled her up again, painting her insides with his release. And then they collapsed together in a heap on the table, their breathing ragged and heavy as they came down from their high.

Sophie couldn't believe it—she'd never felt anything like this before. This raw, unrestrained passion that burned bright between them. As she looked into Johnny's eyes, she knew that whatever words she’d written couldn’t truly capture the essence of their connection. Not like this.

Their bodies, slick with sweat and desire, lay entwined, hearts pounding in sync with the fading echoes of their passionate embrace. As their breaths slowly returned to normal, Sophie traced her fingers through the damp hair on Johnny's chest, marveling at the man before her. He was more than just a character in her story; he was real, and he had brought her words to life in a way she never thought possible.

Johnny turned his head towards her hand and captured it in his, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss. "That was... incredible," he whispered, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears of overwhelming emotion. "You truly are a wordsmith, Sophie."

She smiled, the corners of her lips turning up in a knowing grin. "I can't take all the credit. You helped bring the idea to life."

He chuckled softly and brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Well then, let's write another chapter, shall we?"

[resande]

Steddie fic idea

‼️‼️‼️If you’re a writer that wants to collaborate with me into giving life to this big project, hmu. I’ll draw for it and all i need is someone who will put into words and also help me build up more on this story and fill the gaps. Also someone that won’t give up on the project when it’s not completely done. This story will also have nsfw scenes in it so take that into consideration aswell.

This project doesn’t have a deadline at all. It’s my baby and i wanna give it the life and attention it deserves because i love this idea so much.

Soo, if you’re interested, DM me🫶🏻

Also if you have other works, i would like to see them aswell. You can attach them to your message, in case there’ll be more people that want to take the place.‼️❤️❤️

The idea in question: (copied from x)

Edward being a witch and in a life before this, him constructing this Colossus of a gothic cathedral for his love, Stephen, who was a priest.

The town found out because the cathedral was finished too soon (stephen was terminally sick and edward wanted him to see this monument dedicated to their love while Stephen was still alive, so he said fuck it and used his powers to finish what supposed to be a +600 years of work.

The town people found out he was a witch and began a witch hunt so they can burn him at the stake.

Eddie faked his death right before the burning thing in the middle of the town, right in front of the cathedral happened. No one knew except Stephen. There was a scarecrow made to look like eddie (magic happened there aswell). And because Stephen was The priest of the town, he

was forced to burn the witch. (Including here a “no one mourns the wicked” scene because that tore my heart out and i need it here and also bc Stephen felt like the real wicked between the two, because of betraying god (but also without any remorse towards it)

Once he set fire to the scarecrow, the town tried to set fire to the cathedral aswell. But it never burned. The fire would go out as soon as it started and the skies would rip apart and heavy rain would fall. So the cathedral will stay intact.

For as many years as Stephen had, and so many more after that, the town tried to burn down the cathedral thousands of times. The only thing that happened was the color of it became black. And it stayed that way, protected forever by eddie’s powers.

They promised eachother they will find one another in afterlife, until stars will cease to exist. Stephen told Edward “to make your searching easier, you’ll find me right here. In our home (the cathedral)

“In every life i’ll live, until my soul will decompose, i will cherish our love.”

Also right before eddie would get captured, eddie made a scene in front of the cathedral and the whole town, by swallowing the cathedral’s front door keys. (Magician trick Get it. Or nawt) as to show everyone that no one has power over what he created, other than himself (n stephen ofc).

————

After hundreds of years, a mechanic & struggling musician called eddie, got a hitchhike by an old weird man, and kinda got kidnapped into a town that.. weird enough, doesn’t show on the map… . Stuck in time, set in the 40-60’s, and has in the middle of the old town the most bone chilling creation eddie had ever seen. That damned colossal cathedral. (Eddie also has a tattoo of an old key on his sternum)

eddie gets into town And has so many weird reactions from peers when they look at his face.

(They have pictures of the witch that created the cathedral and eddie looks identical to him). He has a breakdown out of nowhere while stopping in his tracks, right in front of the creation. All the people surrounding him, not moving a muscle. They’re convinced they are assisting to a historical moment. The prophecy. The second coming of the witch.

No one dared to touch eddie while he was sobbing and having a panic attack on the ground.

No one, except a young priest,

In his 20’s.

Calming him down. And taking him away from prying eyes. In the back gardens of the cathedral, where only priests and nuns are allowed. Found an empty spot and sat eddie down. Told him everything.

Eddie had one week until the mark of the 300 years, since the death of the witch. To do what the whole town - turned into a cult, wanted since Edward died. To open the old chest that lies in the attic, so “the second coming of christ will come” or so that’s what all of them

Believed. (Actually someone sniffed edward and stephen out and selfishly wanted to open that chest to prove everyone that stephen must die for his sins. Basically a Carver invented one of the oldest lies they ever heard.)

If people find out about the key tattoo eddie has

That he got from his dreams, make a real copy out of it and try to open the front doors + the chest, and it works, “then the second coming of christ is happening and at dawn everyone and their animals will enter in the afterlife/eternal heaven.”

They also need to burn the witch

Again so he won’t stop “this process for once and for all.”

From here on out, in this one week, eddie faces the psychological horrors of this fucked up cult town, hunted by its people, couple of times but gets away because now steve sees through all the bullshit he got indoctrinated all his life, has time to fall in love with eddie, helps him out, and tries to put a stop to all of this.

In the end it becomes a ghost town, while eddie and steve get away, steve getting to see life outside of the town’s walls, for the first time in his life.

It’s not all thought out but this horror-ish idea i’ve had for a long ass time and i wanna draw for it… my babey🤲..