#snippets from a fic i might finish

[words-with-wren]

Snippet of a Fic I might Finish

They made their way through the trees, and even the Brigadier was now picking up on the unnatural silence, stepping lightly. 

But the silence was a little too unbearable and eventually Jamie had to break it, voicing a thought he’d been trying to figure out.

“If you’re from 1972,” he began. “And I’m from 1746. How did I end up in your time?” 

“Hell if I know,” the Brigadier answered, shaking his head. “On an ordinary day, I’d say the Doctor was messing with time. But we’ve all been a little too preoccupied lately.” 

“Aye well,” Jamie said. Again, the mention of this Doctor person. Again, the strange heartache of something lost. Something forgotten. Something just out of reach. He shook the feeling away and kept talking. “D’we know what year this is?” 

The Brigadier stopped in his tracks for a moment, staring at Jamie. 

“Well that is an unsettling thought,” he said finally.

[emero0]

In relation to my “how dare project sekai have shows within a game that i wish were real” post i have decided to do the same thing lmaoo

And by that i mean ive had this cinematic universe in my head for a fic i need to write and part if it involves leo/need writing songs for the musical movie (think like how mary poppins has songs in it—old disney movies to reference something more popular)

Which has led me to wanting to write a song for the movie in my fic—

This is what my multifaceted brain gets me—multi media projects woooo

[pant--eater]

Objective: write a Frifnab fanfic

Result: end up making up headcanons about Friftar's mom WAY more than you originally planned

[teh-nos]

Two Sentence Tuesday

From the sylki con artists AU because 1) it proves I am actually working on that still and 2) lol doggerland.

Loki’s own ‘moral high ground’ being at approximately the elevation of the Netherlands doesn’t change the fact that Sylvie’s is similarly situated, or perhaps even lower; if he is the Netherlands of morality then she is that bit of land under the North Sea where fishing boats sometimes dredge up Neanderthal bones.

[sunfloweraro]

THIS TOOK ME WAY TOO LONG TO GET AROUND TO APPRECIATING (just know I’ve been looking at it every day and LOVING it!!)

But AAAAAA THEYRE COLOURED IN!!!! I absolutely LOVE this I adored the sketch and to get to see it coloured in (with your amazing talent no less!) is an absolute honour!! The detail and care that went into this warms my heart—thank you so much for sharing!!!

@sunfloweraro I did it. I finally colored it in.

(Scene from this lovely snippet!!)

[harbours-lighthouse]

𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐏𝐓.𝐈𝐈

— part one

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 — Jason Todd x F!Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 — The argument Jason had with you is sending him spiralling. Will either of you find each other before it's too late? Will this be what spells out your inevitable split, or will you break away from fate and everything that tells you that this won't work?

𝐀/𝐍 — I finished this while still recovering from some pretty harrowing COVID, so I apologise if it feels a little janky. It might not be, but I struggled to view the fic as one whole thing and not tiny little snippets, and that's probably because of my silly light-headedness and sickly brain :)) Anyway, I hope you enjoy <3 (and I hope I tagged everyone lol).

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: none; just hurt/comfort

Jason can’t breathe—he’s sure of it. Each inhale feels like knives piercing through him. You left nearly an hour ago, but it’s his watch strapped on his wrist that tells him that. The clock hanging above the fridge in your kitchen isn’t working anymore—something he should have fixed—and the silver hands are stuck at 9.50 PM.

You walked out of the apartment at 9.48 PM.

Those silver hands glint and he’s sure that the clock knows what it’s doing. What it’s doing to him.

At first, anger swelled inside of him like a tide, reaching past his exhaustion to grab at his senses. He nearly whirled to slam his fist into a wall when you left, but the little voice in his head stopped him. The one that reminded him of you. 

Don’t. You’re not going to be that person. 

That person who hurts. That person who wrecks something precious just to stave off the grief gnawing at him. That person who loses everything by being the worst thing he could possibly be. 

And then that anger dissipated a little like smoke, and something else took its place. It felt like dread, thick and heavy. It clung to him like spidery hands and it still does.

Jason runs a hand through his hair, wincing when his fingernails catch on the scab at his temple. It makes it all rush back to him—the fact that he’s been gone, and that you’ve left.

He snatches his keys off the little cabinet in the foyer, and the door slams shut behind him like an omen.

Like something final. 

He didn’t bring his bike with him—he’d simply dropped onto your fire escape. If he’d been anyone else, he knows you would have thrown a frying pan at him, but you’d basically been sitting on the couch and watching that damned window like it might lure him back to you. You knew the second there was a flurry of shadow that he was there, and the window had slid open only a few seconds after he knocked on the frosted glass.

But now he really wishes he had brought his bike, because going on foot makes his search for you all the more difficult. Gotham City is large, and he knows you cover ground quickly when you’re not thinking about your destination.

Jason’s chest tightens, like ropes slowly looping around each of his lungs. He knows how cold panic feels, but this is hot—molten. If the ropes don’t stop him from breathing, then it’s the heat of his frustration.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he says beneath his breath, like a quiet prayer of desperation. He feels vile for saying it—how can he say it when you’re not here to answer it?

His feet carry him down the narrow steps that lead up to your apartment complex, before turning onto the street. The holes in the asphalt glint with residue rain water, and the chilling wind nips at his skin.

You must be freezing, your cardigan can only do so much. 

Each street is as familiar as the last, but he doesn't know how familiar they are to you. Have you taken the route you normally take to the bus stop? Did you simply keep walking past that tiny sliver of shelter from the weather on Gotham’s icy mornings? Or have you messed with him and taken a completely different path? Are you winding through the city like a clever and scared hare, and he the fox?

He hears a ruckus somewhere to his left, loud voices caught on the wind like paper notes.

He cuts across the street with long strides, puddles of water disturbed abruptly in his wake. The shadows don't scare him—whatever lingers inside alleyways doesn't know what violence is.

But Jason is still afraid because he knows that you're not as familiar with Gotham's cruelty. This city chews people up and spits them back out. This city is nothing but barbed wire and a pulsing heart made of teeth.

And Jason can be just as sharp as the place he grew up in.

“I don’t need your help,” Jason sneers, and he feels like he's said this twice already. The words chaff against him, like they're not as smooth and true as he thinks they are.

He watches the way your fists unclench by your sides, something close to resignation pinching around your face.

“I think you do,” you say too softly.

Jason feels like he might burst into flames, the kind that lick at him as punishment. 

“You don't know what I need,” he grounds out, and he watches you crumble. 

Why had he said those things? You'd been waiting for him for a whole month—Jason knows he hadn't been fair to you for that, but he couldn't find the right thing to say. What does ‘I'm sorry’ do in a situation like this? Begging you to forgive him seems… pointless. All his life he's asked for forgiveness, and never gotten it, even when a ticking time bomb sat next to him. 

Why would you be any different?

But the silence that rang through the apartment after you left felt like a bell echoing in his ears, a sort of chant meant to torture him. Guilt had streaked red and hot through him while he stood there, unable to move, think, or breathe.

Jason couldn't let you go like that, even if his whole body screamed for him to just leave; the fact that you left your apartment for the sake of getting away from him is sitting heavily on his chest, too.

The roar of a car cuts through the noise in his head, and Jason makes his way to the crossroad ahead of him. Headlights glare through the dark haze of the night, splitting beams across the asphalt. Engines prattle while the city and guilt gnaws at him. He hears the rhythmic chirping of the crosswalk button, and squints up at the little walking man— 

—it’s red. 

That colour is everything inside Jason. A pulsing shade that burns through him like a fever. All you’d ever done was try to soothe that burn, and the one time that you try to soothe your own, he lashes out. His throat tightens painfully. 

You’re everything to Jason, and you’re alone. He let you leave. 

What sort of a man does that? 

What sort of lover does that?

Jason’s eyes flit across every moving object, hoping to see you—maybe you’d step out of one of the corner stores, hair lit up by the sickly-green glow spilling from the windows. Or maybe you’d come to a stop by the curb, and he’d run to you—that’s what he should have done in the first place. 

Instead all he can see are flashes of white as cars zip by him or stand still at the intersections. Red tail-lights gleam like eyes and there’s so much noise. It fills the entire street, fills his head, and all Jason can see when he blinks is your face crumbling with regret and hurt. 

The hurt he buried inside of you when he didn’t send word for a whole month.

The regret he caused when you realised you couldn’t say anything that mattered. 

What is wrong with him?

In the corner of his eye, Jason catches movement—and his heart stops. 

It’s you, and you’ve just slipped out of a phone booth.

Jason inhales and it’s sharp, piercing through him. He watches as you grip your hair, fists shaking. You look so lost and Jason’s moving before he can think. A car horn blasts at him, but the noise is lost in the rapid pulsing of blood in his ears. He can feel the wind clawing at him, but even its cold fingers can’t steal away the heat beneath his skin—hot shame and guilt, it builds while the air in his lungs becomes stuck. 

“Sweetheart!” Jason calls without thinking, and his voice catches on the word. 

You spin, eyes wide—everything is spinning, but Jason stands as still as a statue in your vision. Had he known how desperate you were to go back to him? Was this why he didn’t answer the landline at the apartment?

You watch with your mouth dry as Jason comes to a stop in front of you, several paces away. You hate that distance—when did you get so distant?

“Jason,” you utter quietly, and if Jason hadn’t watched your lips form to say that single word, he wouldn’t have caught it at all. 

“I’m… so sorry,” Jason says heavily, and your heart squeezes as if a hand had been shoved through your chest and grabbed the beating muscle. 

You know how difficult it is for him to say that—mostly because he doesn’t ever believe that you’ll forgive him. All you’ve ever done is forgive him. How can he not see that? 

Tears burn the back of your eyes, and you blink rapidly. Cars leave behind the rush of air and sound, surrounding the two of you like beams of metal and light. Gotham watches the two of you like a cruel mother, and you feel your stomach bunch with nerves. 

“I—” you swallow thickly, “I called the apartment… thought you might still be there.”

Jason blinks, eyes combing across your face while his shoulders sag with the weight of that knowledge. 

“I wasn’t there, I’d left already.” 

“So you came looking for me?” 

Jason feels like hands are grabbing at his ribcage and splitting it open. He’s afraid that when he speaks again, everything he feels might spill out from his mouth—I love you I love you I love you I love you! 

“Yeah,” he settles with. “I should have—I should have gone looking for you sooner.” 

“You should have come home sooner,” you say. 

Jason nods, his jaw tightening while his throat throbs. He hasn’t felt this desperate in a long time.

“I’m really sorry, doll,” he murmurs, “I know you needed me, and I wasn’t…”

He can’t finish the sentence: I wasn’t there. 

You close your eyes while the burn becomes overwhelming, the first few tears falling like thin, silver ribbons. You never want to cry when there’s something hot and angry settled in your chest, but maybe you’re not really angry. Maybe you’re just tired and terribly in love.

“I forgive you, Jason,” you cry softly, and Jason’s body aches—as if the weight of your sorrow were breaking down his muscles, slowly eating away at his nerves.

Maybe you’d both been distant, but that never meant you had abandoned his soul. He is still irrevocably connected to you, so tightly that if you didn’t have physical forms, he’s sure the both of you would have merged into one single thing. 

He doesn’t know what that looks like, but Jason knows that it’s all that he wants.

Jason moves, almost senselessly, and his hands reach for you. They hover, not quite touching, and you open your eyes to find his outstretched hands. You don’t think or wait or pull away. His skin feels warm when you slip your fingers between his, intertwining your hands like a woven tapestry of calluses and scars. 

And forgiveness. 

“I’m sorry for leaving,” you say, voice thick with tears. 

Jason shakes his head instantly. “No, don’t—” 

He brings you closer, pulling you into him. Gunpowder and leather overwhelm your senses and you want to drown in it. You latch onto him like he might slip through your fingers—like he might be gone if you blink once, twice. 

You breathe him in and feel his chest shudder beneath your cheek.

“I’m not going to do that again,” Jason whispers brokenly, and his lips press against your scalp. “I won’t keep you waiting like that—I’m sorry that I did.”

You feel the ache in your chest slowly ease, though it doesn’t leave fully. 

“And,” he chokes around the dryness in his throat, “I’m sorry for all the things I said. I… I do need your help—more than I think I do. And you know me better than anyone else—I shouldn’t have pushed you away like that.”

You can hear the regret inside of him. It pulses like a heartbeat, and you want to soothe it. Blow it away like smoke. 

“It’s okay, Jason. I promise that it’s okay.”

Jason’s warm hands tighten around you, shielding you away from the rest of Gotham. 

“I love you,” Jason says, and there’s no hesitancy lingering behind the words. 

No shame.

No regret. 

No guilt. 

You want to cry even harder, but instead a lightness fills you, breathing air back into your lungs. Pure air, not the kind Gotham offers. Just the kind that Jason brings. 

“I love you too,” you reply softly.

The cars don’t slow, even when you feel like they should.

*** 

Luigi’s Pizza Place simmers with heat and spices, melted cheese and crispy bacon. Jason stands beside you with his hand firmly wrapped around yours. Both of you stare up at the menu, even though you both know the prices by heart. 

“We could get a hawaiian,” you say, and you hear Jason’s long exhale. 

“Sweetheart… we’ve talked about this.” 

“I will not hear any hawaiian pizza slander, Todd.” 

“It’s fruit on pizza—” 

“Invalid argument.”

Jason scoffs as you both shuffle along with the rest of the queue. 

“How is that an invalid argument?” 

You idly watch the staff flitter behind the counter. “Olives are a fruit, but no one complains about that.” 

“That’s… different,” Jason sighs. 

“How so?” 

“Because it’s still savoury.” 

“So? We put BBQ sauce on a bunch of pizzas and that’s sweet too. What’s wrong with pineapple being sweet?” 

“Baby,” there’s a laugh stuck in Jason’s words. “I don’t think that works the same way.” 

“Whatever—also, why is it that there’s more hate for hawaiian pizza than there is for those weird gummy pizzas?” 

Jason tugs you closer to him as a group of teenagers enter the place, loud voices bouncing inside the heated shop. 

“That I will agree with—that stuff's disgusting,” Jason mutters, and you squeeze his hand. 

“That’s probably better than any apology you’ve ever given me.”

A kiss is firmly planted against your temple.

“Minx,” Jason mumbles, and you smile wider than you have in a long time.

Thank you for reading, God bless <3

tags: @kitkatlover015 @batslilwhore @freythecrazyfae @soulsforsales @joinmeforadoublesuicide @sweetistic @zephrnyx @twismare

© harbours-lighthouse 2025 / i do not give permission for my work to be reposted, translated, or fed into ai. all works belong to me unless stated otherwise.

[chelseaknoo]

Hiii I love ur ficsss

Can u do a 2000 Eminem x latina/singer ???

2000s Eminem x Latina singer! Reader

Note:I wanted to make this fic like the other fic that I made.

You’re in your twenties, with a few years of experience already under your belt in the music industry. It’s been a whirlwind ride of late nights in the studio, long days on tour, and the thrill of live performances that leave you breathless. Tonight, you’re preparing for another show, meticulously applying your makeup in front of a mirror. The familiar buzz of a nearby radio fills the dressing room with a mix of chart-topping hits and hip-hop beats. It’s just background noise—until a new track begins to play

She's got curves in all the right places, and a smile that can light up the night,

I'd do anything to be with her, to hold her tight.

I dream about her every night, and think about her all day,

I'd give anything to be with her, to make her mine in every way.

Hearing it, you’re momentarily stunned—this is Eminem, known for his raw candor and biting verses, rarely this personal. Fans and media latch on, fueling speculation. For you, it’s a mix of flattery and curiosity, leaving you to wonder about the intent behind his words as they echo through your world.

You were performing at a festival, a massive event where music fans gathered from all over, creating a charged atmosphere that crackled with energy. It was one of the biggest performances of your career so far, and you’d just finished checking your setlist when word came through the grapevine: Eminem was also performing. The realization sent a thrill down your spine. After his recent track where he’d dropped your name with lyrics that had set the rumor mill ablaze, you knew there was a chance you might cross paths.

During Eminem’s performance, the energy was palpable. The crowd was on fire, hanging onto every lyric he delivered with his signature intensity and precision. Midway through his set, the beat shifted, and you recognized the opening notes immediately—it was the song he’d written about you. The realization sent a wave of heat rushing to your cheeks, and you couldn’t help but feel both flattered and completely taken off guard.

As the track played, the massive screen behind him lit up with visuals. To your surprise, a snippet from one of your own music videos appeared. It was you—dancing, singing, completely in your element. The image faded in and out, perfectly synced to the lyrics he was delivering. The crowd erupted, clearly catching the connection and loving every second of it.

You felt your heart race as you stood there, unable to take your eyes off the screen or him. The mix of admiration and boldness in his performance was undeniable—he’d just laid it all out there, right in front of thousands of fans. You pressed your fingertips to your lips, feeling the heat in your face as you blushed deeply. It was surreal, having someone like Eminem make such a public declaration, and for a moment, you were overwhelmed by a mix of embarrassment, pride, and something far more personal.

As you made your way backstage, the crowd’s cheers outside provided a distant, rhythmic roar. The corridors were a chaotic mix of performers, stagehands, and crew members hurrying by. Just as you reached a quieter corner, you saw him—Eminem, unmistakable in his hoodie and baseball cap, talking with his team. For a second, your heart stopped. The man behind the lyrics was just a few feet away.

He caught sight of you, paused, and then walked over, his eyes holding a glimmer of curiosity mixed with that familiar intensity. You met him halfway, every step feeling like a blend of surreal anticipation and adrenaline.

You’re in your twenties, a seasoned performer in the music industry, and tonight, you're at one of the biggest festivals of the year. The air buzzes with excitement, the ground vibrating beneath your feet as crowds scream for the next artist to take the stage. You can hear the faint pulse of the music outside as you finish your makeup in front of a backstage mirror, perfecting the final details of your look. The lights reflect off your eyes, capturing the adrenaline coursing through you.

But the excitement of the night isn't just about the performance. Earlier today, a new track dropped on the radio, and to your surprise, it featured none other than Eminem—mentioning you in his lyrics. His words have been replaying in your mind, each line burning themselves deeper with every replay:

*“She's got curves in all the right places, and a smile that can light up the night,

I'd do anything to be with her, to hold her tight.

I dream about her every night, and think about her all day,

I'd give anything to be with her, to make her mine in every way.”*

Hearing those lines for the first time left you stunned, a rush of disbelief mixed with flattery. Eminem, one of the most respected names in the game, had woven you into his story with words that were both bold and unmistakably personal.

Before long, you’re backstage at the festival, preparing to take the stage. The crew members buzz around, checking equipment and making sure everything runs smoothly. Suddenly, the atmosphere shifts, and you can sense him even before you see him—Eminem is here. He walks in with a confident stride, his presence magnetic and undeniable, his signature hoodie and serious expression unmistakable.

He spots you, and for a brief moment, his gaze softens, a flicker of something unspoken passing between you. He approaches, and the noise around you seems to fade away.

"Hey," he says, his voice low but carrying over the hum of the backstage commotion. "I guess you heard the track."

You smile, trying to play it cool despite your racing heart. "Kinda hard to miss when you’re broadcasting my personal life to the world, don’t you think?"

He chuckles, a genuine sound that catches you off guard. "Guilty as charged," he admits. "I meant every word, though."

There’s a beat of silence between you two, heavy with a mix of tension and curiosity. You search his eyes, trying to read the man behind the verses that caught you off guard.

"So," you say, breaking the silence and tilting your head playfully, "was that your way of asking me out, or do you just enjoy making things complicated?"

He grins, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Maybe a little of both. Keeps things interesting."

Before you can respond, a stagehand interrupts, letting you know it’s almost time for you to go on. Eminem steps back but not before leaning in, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath.

"Break a leg out there," he murmurs, his voice just for you. "I’ll be watching."

With that, he turns away, leaving you with a pounding heart and a renewed energy. As you make your way toward the stage, you can’t help but smile, knowing that tonight's performance—and whatever happens next—just got a whole lot more interesting.

With that, you stepped onto the stage, the festival’s energy washing over you like a wave. The world might have gone wild for his lyrics, but now you had a story unfolding that was just yours—and it was only beginning.

Eminem stood backstage, his eyes locked on you as you took command of the stage. He had seen countless performers before, but there was something different about you—something captivating. The way you moved, the fluid grace with which you danced, and the effortless confidence you exuded as you sang each note—it all seemed to pull him in, leaving him momentarily spellbound.

The lights cast a glow around you, accentuating every curve of your body as you swayed in rhythm with the music. Your energy was electric, and it radiated out to the audience, who moved and sang along with you, completely entranced. Eminem found himself leaning forward, his focus narrowing to just you. Every step you took, every flick of your wrist, every note you hit—it all carried a magnetic power that he couldn't tear himself away from.

He watched the way your eyes sparkled as you connected with the crowd, how your smile lit up your entire face, adding an extra layer of vibrancy to your performance. There was a raw authenticity in how you poured yourself into every lyric, and he couldn't help but admire it. To him, it was as if you weren’t just performing—you were telling a story, one that demanded to be heard and felt.

"She's good," he muttered to himself, barely noticing the words slipping out. But it was more than just skill. There was something intangible—a spark that made you shine brighter than the stage lights themselves.

When you spun around and your gaze briefly flickered toward backstage, catching sight of him, a knowing smile played on your lips. For a heartbeat, it felt like time slowed down. He felt a rush of something unfamiliar—equal parts admiration and intrigue.

As the final beats of your song echoed and the crowd erupted in cheers, Eminem couldn't help but smile, his awe evident. You took a bow, breathing heavily but radiating pride. And as you walked off the stage, he knew one thing for certain: you weren’t just another artist on the lineup. You were someone unforgettable.

As you stepped off the stage, the roar of the crowd still echoing in your ears, you felt the adrenaline coursing through your veins. Your heart was pounding, and your chest rose and fell with each deep breath as you tried to ground yourself after the electrifying performance. As you made your way backstage, wiping a sheen of sweat from your forehead, your gaze fell on Eminem.

He was standing off to the side, his eyes fixed intently on you. There was no mistaking the look in them—complete awe and genuine admiration. He seemed mesmerized, as if he was replaying every moment of your performance in his head. For a second, you locked eyes, the world around you fading away. The intensity of his stare made your pulse quicken, but you managed to keep your composure.

A playful, almost shy smile curved your lips. You held his gaze for a moment longer, letting the connection linger before breaking it with a soft laugh. Then, with a casual flick of your hair, you turned and began walking toward your dressing room, your team moving around you like a wave of support. You could feel the weight of his attention, even as you walked away.

Inside the dressing room, you exhaled, your reflection in the mirror still glowing from the thrill of the stage and the encounter. As you fixed your hair and adjusted your outfit, you couldn’t shake the memory of his eyes on you, the way it made you feel seen—not just as a performer, but as something more. It was a moment that would linger, and you knew it wouldn’t be the last time your paths crossed.

As you touch up your makeup in the mirror, perfecting every detail, you take a moment to admire your reflection. The adrenaline from the performance still buzzes through your veins, and the roar of the crowd echoes in your ears. Just as you pick up your brush to fix a final smudge, the door behind you opens. You barely register it, assuming it’s someone from your team.

“Nice show out there.”

The unexpected sound of his voice makes you jump. Turning quickly, you find yourself face-to-face with Marshall—Eminem. There’s a spark of amusement in his eyes as he leans casually against the doorframe. You try to steady your breath, suppressing the thrill running through you.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he adds with a smirk. “Well, maybe a little.”

“Mission accomplished,” you reply, recovering with a smile. “But thanks. Glad you caught it.”

He walks over, closing the door behind him. The air between you grows charged. He doesn’t stop until he’s standing right in front of you, close enough that you can see the flecks of gray in his eyes.

“You’ve got everyone wrapped around your finger out there,” he says, his voice low. “Kinda impressive.”

“Is that a compliment?” you tease, raising an eyebrow. “Coming from you, I’ll take it.”

“Yeah? You should.” He steps even closer, and suddenly, his hands are on your waist. Without warning, he lifts you effortlessly, placing you on top of the desk. You barely have time to catch your breath as he moves between your legs, his presence overwhelming, his gaze intense.

“You always surprise me,” you murmur, feeling your pulse quicken.

“Good,” he replies, his lips curving into a slow smile. “I plan to keep it that way.” He leans in, his breath warm against your skin. “But you know,” he adds softly, “seeing you like this, up close? Way better than any stage.”

Before you can respond, his lips find yours. The kiss is firm and confident, with just a hint of the hunger simmering beneath the surface. You wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the connection, losing yourself in the moment. Time seems to slow, the world outside the door fading away until it’s just the two of you.

When he pulls back, there’s a glint of mischief in his eyes. “I’ve been waiting for that,” he admits, his voice husky.

“Were those lyrics just an elaborate setup?” you tease, still catching your breath.

“Maybe,” he says with a grin, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Worked, didn’t it?”

You laugh, the sound light and easy, feeling the tension melt away. “I guess it did.”

His hands linger at your waist, fingers tracing idle patterns. “I’d say we make a pretty good duet.”

“Is that your way of saying you want more?” you challenge, feeling bold.

“Definitely,” he murmurs, leaning in again. “And I’m just getting started.”

As Marshall’s lips trail down your neck, a soft sigh escapes your lips. His hands rest firmly on your waist, pulling you closer as you run your fingers through his hair. The intensity of the moment is overwhelming, and every touch, every breath, feels electric. The room seems to shrink around you, narrowing your focus to just him—until the door suddenly swings open.

“Yo, Marshall, you ready for—oh, hell no.”

You both freeze. Turning your heads simultaneously, you spot Proof standing in the doorway, eyebrows raised, a mix of shock and amusement playing across his face. His eyes widen as he takes in the scene—Marshall standing between your legs, hands still on your hips, your flushed faces. There’s a beat of silence, and then Proof bursts out laughing.

“Oh, this is rich,” Proof says, leaning against the doorframe and shaking his head. “Am I interrupting something? Nah, scratch that. I know I’m interrupting something.”

Marshall lets out a low groan, pulling back slightly but keeping his hands firmly on you. “Man, do you ever knock?” he snaps, though there’s a hint of a grin tugging at his lips.

“Marshall, you ready to go out and celebrate? The night’s still young."

Marshall doesn’t even look up at him, his focus entirely on you as he steps closer. He takes a slow breath, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Celebrate, huh? Nah, I think I’ll pass on that. I’ve got better plans tonight.”

Proof raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Oh yeah? And what's that?"

Marshall’s lips curve into a flirtatious smile as he moves even closer, his voice lowering to a near whisper. "I’d rather spend the night with her, if you don’t mind." His eyes lock onto yours, a heat building between you both as his gaze lingers, making it clear he’s not just talking about any casual hangout.

You feel your heart skip a beat as Marshall leans in slightly, his breath warm against your ear. "She’s the one I’m celebrating with tonight," he adds, his tone rich with intent, sending a shiver down your spine.

Proof chuckles, looking between the two of you, clearly understanding what’s going on. "Alright, alright, I get it. I’ll leave you two to it. Just don’t keep me waiting too long." He smirks, walking toward the door. “But you owe me a drink later, man.”

Marshall barely acknowledges him, his attention fixed on you. As Proof exits, Marshall turns back, that same smirk never leaving his face. “Now, where were we?” he says, his tone both playful and hungry, eyes never leaving yours. <3

[its-avalon-08]

could you do a schumacher!daughter reader fic pretty please😇 somethin g soft and sweet

anon you read my mind <3

little schumi (ms7!daughter)

(p.s. i showed by father this gif and he has tears in his eyes, side note: my dad loves michael schumacher)

The familiar scent of burnt rubber and ozone hung heavy in the air as Y/N Schumacher navigated the bustling Formula One paddock. Unlike her brother Mick, who was gearing up for qualifying, Y/N never felt the pull of the racetrack. Instead, she gravitated towards the human stories that unfolded around it.

A gruff but gentle hand landed on her shoulder. "There you are, little Schumi," boomed a voice that could only belong to Kimi Raikkonen. Y/N grinned, returning the signature Kimi side-eye. "Kimi! Did you see Valtteri's new helmet design? It's outrageous!"

Kimi snorted. "Looks like a flock of angry parrots attacked it." They shared a laugh, their easy camaraderie a testament to the years Y/N had spent soaking up the paddock atmosphere. Every driver, engineer, and mechanic knew her, a familiar smile in a world of high-octane adrenaline.

Fernando Alonso, a close friend of her father's, spotted them and sauntered over. "How's my favorite Schumi doing today?" he asked, ruffling her hair. Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. "Don't you have a qualifying session to win, Fernando?"

"Practice makes perfect, but spending time with you is always a priority, pequena," he winked. Y/N knew the playful banter was a way to deflect from the unspoken. Her father's condition was a shadow that loomed over the entire F1 family.

Just then, a young reporter, all bright eyes and eager questions, approached Y/N. "Ms. Schumacher, a few words for Sky Sports? Can you share your thoughts on your father's health?"

Y/N's smile faltered. Everyone knew this was a touchy subject. Sebastian Vettel, who was just passing by, overheard and stepped in. "Let's leave Y/N out of this, shall we?" he said, his voice firm but kind. "She doesn't owe you a public statement."

The reporter looked flustered. "But sir, it's a question everyone wants answered." Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "And everyone will have to understand that some things are private, especially when it comes to family." He offered Y/N a reassuring smile. "Come on, Y/N, let's grab some coffee before the chaos starts."

Grateful, Y/N linked arms with Sebastian. The paddock might be a competitive arena, but the drivers, the ones who understood pressure and risk, formed their own kind of family. They understood her silence, her need for normalcy in a world obsessed with speed.

As they walked, Y/N overheard snippets of conversations. "Poor Y/N," someone murmured. "She must be going through hell." Another voice added, "Leave her alone, haven't they been through enough?" Y/N offered a small, sad smile. It hurt, but it also warmed her heart. Her father, with his quiet strength and unwavering determination, had built a legacy that transcended wins and podium finishes. He had inspired loyalty, respect, and a fierce protectiveness that extended to his daughter, even in this fast-paced, unforgiving world.

Reaching the small coffee shop tucked away in the paddock, Y/N settled into a booth with Sebastian. "Thanks, Seb," she said, her voice soft.

Sebastian squeezed her shoulder. "Anytime, Y/N. You know, your dad would be proud of you. The way you handle yourself, your kindness… it's something special."

Y/N smiled, tears pricking her eyes. Maybe she wouldn't be on the racetrack, but here, in the heart of the paddock, amongst the roar of engines and the smell of racing fuel, she felt a part of her father's legacy.

time skip

The post-race debrief was abuzz with post-adrenaline chatter. Y/N, perched on the edge of Lando Norris' chair, listened with a half-ear as he recounted his epic battle with Daniel Ricciardo on the final lap. They may be from different teams, but their young love story was a paddock favorite.

"…and then I went for the undercut, and bam! Second place!" Lando finished, a triumphant grin splitting his face. Y/N leaned in and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Amazing job, my champion," she whispered, earning a playful swat on the arm.

Suddenly, Charles Leclerc burst through the door, his phone held aloft. "Did you guys see this?!" he exclaimed, brandishing a news article. Max Verstappen, who was sprawled on the couch next to Lewis Hamilton, snatched the phone. "What is it, Charles?"

Max's eyes narrowed as he scrolled through the article. "Seriously?" he growled, throwing the phone onto the coffee table. Y/N's heart lurched. It couldn't be good.

Lewis picked it up and read aloud, his voice heavy with disapproval. "'Mick Schumacher: A shadow of his father's talent?' This is ridiculous!"

Y/N's blood boiled. How dare they criticize her brother, especially so harshly? She felt tears prickling her eyes, her fists clenching. Before she could react further, Lando was by her side, his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders.

"Hey, hey," he soothed, his voice a low rumble. "Don't let them get to you. Mick's a phenomenal driver, everyone knows that."

Carlos Sainz, ever the comedian, piped up from across the room. "Besides, who needs talent when you have good looks like Mick, right?" he winked, earning a playful shove from Charles.

Y/N forced a smile, her anger slowly simmering down. She knew they were trying to lighten the mood, and she appreciated their support. "Thanks, guys," she sniffled. "It just… it's frustrating."

Lewis, his calm demeanor ever-present, spoke up. "Let the results speak for themselves, Y/N. Mick's still young, and he's already proving himself. This kind of trash talk doesn't deserve your attention."

Max, still fuming, grabbed the phone again and typed furiously. "There," he declared, showing the screen to the rest of them. "I just tweeted my support for Mick. Let's see how those journalists like that."

Y/N let out a laugh, feeling a wave of relief wash over her. These weren't just her teammates, they were her family, her chosen tribe. They understood the pressure, the scrutiny, and the unwavering loyalty that bound them together. They wouldn't let some random article bring her down.

Lando nudged her, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Besides, you know who the real untalented one is," he whispered, leaning in close.

Y/N playfully swatted his arm. "Oh yeah? And who's that?"

Lando winked. "The one who keeps losing to me on the simulator, obviously."

Their playful banter erupted into laughter, the tension completely forgotten. Surrounded by her closest friends, Y/N knew that no matter what the headlines said, she had her own championship team, one that valued love, support, and a good dose of healthy teasing.

time skip

The air crackled with a bittersweet energy as the F1 paddock celebrated Michael Schumacher's birthday. Banners emblazoned with his iconic number 7 adorned the pit lanes, and mechanics sported specially designed caps. Yet, beneath the celebratory facade, a current of unspoken grief hummed.

Mick and Y/N Schumacher stood shoulder-to-shoulder, a united front against the tide of emotions. Their gazes were fixed on a freshly painted mural across the track. It depicted Michael, mid-race, a determined glint in his eyes, the car a blur of red. The artwork was a poignant reminder of the man they missed terribly.

"It's amazing, isn't it?" Y/N said, her voice barely a whisper.

Mick nodded, his jaw clenched tight. "They captured him perfectly." A beat of silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken thoughts. Finally, Mick spoke, his voice gruff. "It hurts, doesn't it? Seeing him… but not really."

Y/N reached out and squeezed his hand. "It's the worst kind of absence, Mick. We know he's there, but…" she trailed off, tears welling up in her eyes.

Mick pulled her into a side hug, his protective aura a familiar comfort. "I know, Y/N. I know. But you're not alone. We have each other, and we have Mom. We'll get through this, together."

Y/N leaned into her brother's embrace, finding solace in his strength. "I know," she murmured. "It's just… I miss him telling me bad jokes after qualifying."

A choked laugh escaped Mick. "Yeah, those were the worst." He paused, then added, "But he still loved them, didn't he?"

Y/N chuckled, a tear rolling down her cheek. "He did. He loved seeing us laugh."

They stood in comfortable silence for a while, the paddock noises a distant hum. Y/N looked up at the mural, a flicker of determination replacing the sadness in her eyes. "We'll make him proud, Mick. Both of us."

Mick met her gaze, his blue eyes mirroring her resolve. "We will. We owe him that."

A hand landed on Mick's shoulder. Sebastian Vettel stood beside them, his expression solemn. "He is proud of you both," he said softly. "Every single day."

Y/N and Mick exchanged a grateful smile. In that moment, surrounded by the people who knew their father best, they felt a surge of strength. Michael Schumacher's absence might leave an aching void, but his legacy, his love, and the unwavering support of their F1 family would forever keep his spirit alive.

[1uvtae]

mistaken very much | jeon jungkook

★word count: 7.4k words!!

★genre: nothing but university romance fluff and very unfunny crack because i have the worst humor,,,look, there's this tennis classmate, and maybe....you've made a pretty big mistake by staring at his butt....? and somehow this turns into a 'crush' on the jeon jungkook that you have never even seen.

★summary/snippet: you don't think staring at his butt cuts straight to the conclusion that you, y/n y/l/n, has a crush on him....but whatever. it's not like you actually have a crush on him...right?

★kae chit chats: forget about motorcycle boy, let's invite tennis boy into the family!!!! this was meant to be posted on v day 2022 but i kind of messed up my sleep schedule and just completely gave up on finishing this lol...,,,nothing but a fluff fic :P and I picked this back up in 2024 lol

do you want to give me some feedback? request something fun? chit chat with me?!

this is my masterlist and drabble list for more of my works!

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

the feeling of being mistaken by someone is so fucking annoying. 

especially when you have probably just been mistaken as a pervert…!

the boy in your tennis class (not to mention, very handsome.) was just squatting in front of you, playing with the school campus cat that you have also been taking care of for months. you were also heading to feed the cat when you had already found him there, squatting down, caressing the cat. he was wearing a white button-up and baggy ripped jeans, but you can’t help but notice that….half of his shirt wasn’t tucked in? and it just looks like it’s dangling out like seaweed…? 

after staring at the white fabric for a few seconds, you look down at the bag of cat food, before putting it in your pocket, planning to feed the cat after he leaves. but when you lifted your head back up, your eyes met with the boy, there were no emotions in his eyes but you felt a hint of shyness rush to your head, and the idea that you were going to feed the cat floated away from your head as you immediately rushed back to your dorm. 

nayeon listened patiently and childish complaint that there was also someone looking after your cat, and how he mistook that you were staring at his ass for a good few seconds, before commenting: “don’t you realize that…he might think you were there to stare at him…..and how you ran away when he saw you…that’s quite suspicious…?”

you freeze. “holy shit.” 

nayeon giggled as she continued. “also last tennis session! you were zoning off at the back of his head, so when he turned, he gave you this weird look.” 

“no freaking way. i didn’t notice that.”

“it was a funny look, not going to lie.”

“help, what if he actually thinks i have a crush on him cause i keep staring at him?!” you try to contain the racing thoughts, and contemplate if you should’ve just kept your eyes pierced on the ground and not on his ass, or the back of his head.

“i mean he’s pretty good-looking, it won’t be weird to have a crush on him.”

you roll your eyes at her comment. “i don’t get it, it doesn’t mean everyone has to have a crush on him just because he’s good-looking, nayeon.”

it was the next tennis lesson, and to avoid more unnecessary interactions, you avoided all eye contact with anyone, but that didn’t stop nayeon from squealing and reporting every small movement from the boy. “he’s facing your direction!” “oh my gosh he’s right behind you!” your hands start to clam up with sweat with every small comment from nayeon. “stop looking at him, gosh.” it was after the lesson that you realized how even more suspicious you looked trying to avoid any eye contact and how often nayeon reported his movements in small mutters and whispers, and how you most definitely looked shy enough for anyone to mistake that you like the ‘good-looking tennis classmate’.

the teacher checks names off the clipboard as she reads two names at once to put their tennis equipment away. “nayeon, y/n.” she looks up at the two of you and back to the heavy boxes of tennis rackets. “the boy in the back, the tall one, help them with the boxes, please.” you and nayeon turn your head back in sync, to see the familiar boy nod and walk towards the both of you. you let out a sigh as nayeon excitedly squishes your arm, another strike. 

is this perhaps….hopelessness? 

yup, not only the boy, but everyone in your tennis class probably thinks that you have this awfully obvious and big crush on this person who you don’t even know the name of.

he cuts in front of you two, the three of you in complete silence. you and nayeon follow him like two cautious cats. he stops at the heavy boxes, and you two walk up to help him, but before you know it, he has already picked up the boxes with one hand, the other hand reaching into his pocket to answer the buzzing phone. what the fuck. you two shared a glance in disbelief, not going to lie, that was very, very, attractive. “damn. pretty tough.” you mutter under your breath and feel the two people from either side look at you immediately, his hand still holding the buzzing phone and nayeon giving you a concerned glance. 

the way back to the dorm was filled with your quietness and nayeon’s laugh. “he probably used to think you were just someone who had a crush on him, but now he thinks you are a literal weirdo who has a crush on him.” you run your hands through your hair in annoyance, how did the sentence even slip through your mouth? looks like you won’t be getting sleep tonight. and you sure didn’t, you kept rolling and shuffling in your bed to think of a tactic to this misunderstanding that you and the tennis boy had going on, and with your smart and very intelligent little brain, you figured out a plan.

“to not make him think that i have a huge fucking crush on him, i am going to pretend i have a crush on somebody else.” you take a sip of your coffee as nayeon nods. “hmm…who else is there to ‘like’?” you think hard before coming to the conclusion that there is no one in your tennis class that is worth ‘liking’. nayeon helps you to think for a good minute: “min yoongi from music…?” you shiver at the thought of your cold and savage music seatmate. “if you really want me to die, just say that.” nayeon chuckles at your comment before going back into the deep search for a suitable ‘crush’ for you. “i heard the tennis dude is in geography.” 

“geo!” another friend of yours popped into the conversation. “they have so many hot guys there!” 

you felt a rush of excitement: “recommend me some!”

“what’s your type?” 

“maybe… a pretty quiet one, maybe shy even? not that popular so no one will care if i like him, you know?”

nayeon shakes her head. “you can’t expect someone to be good-looking and not popular, y/n.”

“i think jeon jungkook.” your other friend suggested. “he’s quiet but literally more than half the school likes him, but that won’t be as weird if you also ‘like’ him, cause everyone likes him.” 

nayeon nods in agreement. “never seen him in my life, but i swear i hear his name mentioned on campus wayyy too often.”

hm. interesting.

the next week came by fast, before class you made your way to the disposal machine and picked up a can of coke, putting it in your backpack before heading to tennis class.

it was free time when you made your way to where the tennis boy was, he was practicing with the wall, he spared you a glance as you walked towards him, and back to practicing with the wall. you take a big breath as you walk towards him, the coke still in your backpack, expecting that when he drops the ball, you are going to pick it up and hand it to him, making it a perfect opportunity to start the ‘conversation’. you lean against the fence, waiting for him to drop the ball. 

not even once has he dropped the ball in the 10 minutes you have been standing here. you feel your legs start to cramp up. finally, he decided to rest for a good while, catching the ball with his right hand as it bounced off the wall, he lazily walked to his bag. you immediately rush over with the can in your hand. he looked at the can in your hands, then backed up to you. you couldn’t help but take in his facial features. it was the middle of the day, and the sun was high up in the sky, warming everybody up, and it seemed to warm your cheeks up when you made simple eye contact with the boy. 

he raised an eyebrow at you as if he was asking a rude and straight ‘what are you doing?’ with his facial expressions. you felt a small taste of regret that second, thinking that this boy definitely thinks you have an obsessed crush on him now, so the only thing you can do now is hope that the next few things you are going to say work out. 

“i bought coke for you.” you mumble as he takes a big sip from his bottle of water. “i don’t need that.” he has a straight face and everything. you take another deep breath as you figure out what you are going to say next. maybe this can be a little fun.

“are you free right now? i have something i want to say…” you tried to act as natural as you could. “i'm gonna practice.” he replied coldly before taking his equipment back to the court, your hand found his arm quickly, then released it in a second when he stopped in his tracks. “it’s just a few sentences.” you used a pleading tone, hoping this would convince him that you were going to ‘confess your crush’ to him. he patiently stopped and looked at you. you start your act, stuttering and acting shy, everything you have seen in romance confessing scenes in films. “well. i’ve noticed you for a long time…” you take the can of coke to hide your face as if you were a blushing mess. “i don’t know if you noticed that…” the ‘obviously you have a crush on me’ expression never left his face. “haven’t noticed.” 

you suppress an eye roll. “all i wanted to say was, i knew you’re in geography…i just wanted to ask if you know a jeon jungkook, i’ve had a crush on him for pretty long, can you help me to get his number?” you definitely want to give yourself a pat on the back, a round of applause even. you felt proud of yourself, proud that this ‘plot twist’ you have created for him, will deflate his ego and convince him that you never had your schoolgirl crush on him, but on this jeon jungkook that you have never met.

the tennis boy didn’t even raise an eyebrow at the comment, still calm as ever. “i don’t know him.”

it's even better that you don’t know him. you thought. all you wanted to know was to share the signal that you have a crush on someone who is not him., you didn’t even care to want jeon jungkook’s number, it was all an act to ‘spread the message’, you pretended to be extremely upset that he did not know this crush of yours, whining an ‘awe~’ and nodding slowly, “okay then…”, leaving him to walk away without sparing a glance at you.

you don’t know what’s wrong with you now. 

before you and this tennis boy had this thing going on, you never seemed to be seeing him around campus. but now after the last interaction, you seemed to be seeing the person everywhere. seeing him in the supermarket, seeing him in the cafeteria, seeing him in the library, seeing him between classes. 

and you know what’s more ironic? it’s always when you’re also with nayeon. you know nayeon’s dramatic acts are to notify you that ‘the boy that thinks you like him’ is over there, but from someone who doesn’t know this situation, it looks like she’s trying to tell you ‘there’s-the-boy-that-you-have-a-huge-mother-fucking-crush-on’. 

and the weird thing is, although you had explained that you like jeon jungkook, he seemed to still have the attitude that you are obsessed with him. especially when you bump into him and are forced to mutter a ‘hi’ or ‘hey’. all he would do was a gentle hum in response, or just nod. and you made a keynote to yourself to never say hello to him ever again. 

the main point was when you and nayeon saw him in a convenience store. you two quickly made your way out as soon as he and his friends walked in. but nayeon saw somebody she knew and immediately started chatting along as the social butterfly she was. you watched from your side-eye as he and his friend walked out of the door.

“isn’t the girl in the beige crew neck your little fangirl?” an unfamiliar voice came from the side, from a boy with soft blonde hair, walking next to the tennis boy. 

and then you hear it.

you hear a “mhm” of confirmation from the tennis boy. you felt a rush of anger run to your head as you retained yourself to scream at them. and then you watch the blonde boy spot you and nayeon, awkwardly, he turns away quickly and walks off with the other. but the other did not awkwardly leave, turning back to glance at you without shame. and that boiled your blood even more.

on the road back all you did was scream and mutter some curse words dedicated to the unshameful tennis boy. 

“don’t you think he might think that the whole jeon jungkook thing was an excuse you used to get closer to him?” nayeon spoke slowly after you had expressed all your anger. and you feel your mind pause. 

yup, it sure is hopelessness now if it wasn’t already hopelessness before.

the second morning. you woke up early and the first thing you did was to check on the cat, but you were extremely cautious. you did not want to bump into you-know-who, so you woke up extremely early so you could avoid seeing him. but after squatting down for just a few minutes. the expected happened. there he was, but this time wearing a black silk button-up, the buttons halfway up and you couldn’t help but take a few seconds to stare at him. but it’s okay because you were here first, so that makes you the person he should be waiting to finish with the cat. 

he stopped in his tracks when he saw you, standing in his spot, waiting for you to leave. 

‘do you get it? do you get it!’ you want to scream this at him. ‘this scene seems familiar! because you were in his spot the other day! you were just simply waiting! you don’t have a crush on him!’ you want to shout this all, but you were busy with the cat.

but weirdly today, the cat doesn’t seem to like you. it didn’t even take a single bite from the tuna stick you were feeding it, and it avoided your pats and touch today. 

well..that’s not a very good sign, is it?

“it doesn’t like being touched.” he walked closer, “it might scratch you.” you knit your brows at his speech, you know that. you were here taking care of the cat earlier than this tennis boy…yet he’s giving instructions on how to take care of the cat??

 “i know this cat.” you explain. “it likes me a lot.”

you pause when you watch the cat move away from your touch after your sentence, the cat avoids your touch as it slowly trots over to nudge his leg instead. he squats down and caresses the cat gently, then lifting his head to look at you with a glance, a look that made your blood boil. the competitiveness in you starts burning up like fire, you wave at the white cat, gesturing for it to come back to you. “lulu, over here.” 

the cat doesn't budge, instead, it gives you a lazy side-eye look and back to enjoy the boy's company. is this perhaps, favoritism?! 

“don’t randomly give it names.” he speaks slowly and quietly behind you. “what’s your problem?” you snap back with a tone that does not sound very friendly, and he stays silent as you stomp away. “i’m leaving, lulu!” you yell back one more time, and the cat: still under his touch, eyes closed, relaxed and unbothered. 

okay then…this was your first time fully understanding the meaning and the understanding of pretty privilege. 

“gosh, i was so hurt by that cat.” you complain back in your dorm. “it isn’t supposed to be like this! normally if you give it food, it will love you…but today it was completely under that tennis boy’s control. this is rigged.” nayeon pats the sheet mask she had on her face. “you saw him again this morning?” you sigh. “yeah, unlucky isn’t it?” 

“he probably also thinks he’s pretty unlucky too.” 

“if i knew he was gonna be there, i wouldn’t wake up so early to avoid him.”

“i was thinking,” nayeon starts again with the tone that you do not like very much, knowing this would be another thing to worry about tonight. “what if he thinks you were there just to create this ‘oops i did not know you were going to be here’ scene? like you were waiting for him to come and see the cat too to create this awkward meeting.” nayeon’s guesses always feel like lightning that struck straight into your soul. “and you said the cat didn’t really seem to like you, doesn’t that look like as if you aren’t close with the cat, as if you were there for another reason…? 

that night was one of the sleepless nights filled with overthinking and worry. 

you were heading over to the cafeteria the second day with a friend. in the crowded and loud dining hall, you hear a loud shout of ‘jungkook!’ from one side to the other. hearing the familiar yet unfamiliar name, you turn your head back in curiosity, but instead, meeting eyes with the tennis boy. 

he was sitting at a table with 4 other boys, including the one blonde boy you saw last time when they were walking out of the convenience store. you tap your friend’s shoulder. “hey, turn your head to the big table with the 5 guys, is jeon jungkook in there? don’t make it obvious, please.”

you watch her basically throw her head back aggressively for what seems like 2 minutes, then turn back and nod. “yeah, isn’t he fine?” “holy shit, can you be more obvious?!” but hearing that your ‘crush’ is also on that table, you slowly turn your head once more and scan the boys, then realizing that out of all the boys, the tennis boy is still the most attractive one for you. although you don’t know which one is jeon jungkook, none out of the 4 boys seem to be your type. 

your shoulders drop a little without realizing, disappointed in your ‘crush’. in fact, will the tennis boy think you have bad taste? 

wait, why would you even care about him in the first place…right…?

the second week of tennis class, also your second streak of buying a can of coke for him. but this time, he doesn’t seem as cold and weird as last time. when he saw that you were waiting for him by the side, he dropped his equipment and walked slowly to you. “what?” you feel yourself swallow out of nervousness. “i saw you guys eating lunch last friday.” his brows knit slightly. “who?” 

“jeon jungkook.” you reply quickly as if the name burns your tongue. “you said you didn’t know him last week…” he used an unspeakable emotion to reply. “i think you have the wrong person.” you were confused at the comment, but continued once more. “just say if you know him or not.”

“it doesn’t matter if i know him or not.” he licks his lips and runs his hands through his dark brown hair, maintaining eye contact with you and you feel you slowly lose your breath at the intense eye contact. you clear your throat and hand the can of coke to him, before taking a plastic bag containing some snacks. “the coke is for you, and can you hand these snacks to him?” before he can refuse it, you add another sentence. “if he doesn’t want them, take them for yourself, don't return it back to me, i would feel  very embarrassed if you did.” 

he stayed silent for a few seconds, looking at the items in your two hands, then lifting his left hand to take both the cans of coke and the plastic bag. you let out a long breath. you hope this is obvious enough that you, y/n y/l/n, do not have a crush on him. or any liking. nothing. 

you relax back into your chair, taking in your cup noodles as you listen to the gossip and events that happened today. there seems to be a geography boys vs gym boys basketball game that went on this afternoon, which turned out to be extremely intense and entertaining to watch. your ears perked up at the mention of geo boys. 

you swallow your bite. “so who won?”

“duh, of course gym, they’re the professionals. how embarrassing would it be for them if they lost?!” your roommate answered, “geo lost because two of the best players got hurt throughout the last half of the game.” the thought of the tennis boy ran into your head, and you could not help but wonder if he got hurt too. 

“oh yeah, the jeon jungkook you have a ‘crush’ on also got hurt. think he tripped and hurt his knee or something.” she continues. you nodded before turning to nayeon to ask;“what about the tennis dude? did he play today?” 

“he played too, he was so good, i think i saw him also get hurt.” nayeon lets out a nosey ‘aww’. “you care about him quite much y/n….” you hesitate for a long time, putting yourself into deep thought. “nayeon…this is weird but, do you think that you somehow programmed my brain to take an attraction to him. because i don’t know why i’ve been thinking about and meeting him so much.” 

nayeon knits her brows. “just say if you like him or not…anyways, there’s another game tomorrow, wanna go watch?” 

you don’t know how you ended up here.

you thought you and nayeon were already early, but the court was still jammed with people. you tried your hardest to squeeze into the crowd, once you had finally worked your way to the front, your eyes caught him. 

he stood in the corner, talking to his teammates, the red basketball jersey lazily overlaying a white tee, he ran his hand through his hair, and your eyes could not move away from him. a shout from a girl next to your side entered your ear. “jungkook looks so good?!” but you didn't have the attention for jeon jungkook, your eyes and mind was completely taken away by him instead. 

the basketball game started, your eyes followed him as he took a sip from his water bottle, and high-fived his teammates before entering. a scream came from the two girls next to you. “go geo!!!” the scream caught his attention, causing him to turn towards your direction, spotting you standing next to the two girls. you make a good second of eye contact as you look away and cheer for jungkook instead. 

after giving jeon jungkook a good shout, you turn back to him, but he is still looking at you. you did not know what to do, avoiding eye contact, you scanned the entire court with your eyes but just, not looking at him. he moved and looked away to get ready with his teammates, and you felt obligated to stare back at him. you watch him as he looks away, then lowers his head to suppress a small smirk. 

and that smirk did a lot to you, you could not help but pinch nayeon’s arm. 

the sharp whistle brought you back to life, the game has started. you did not understand basketball and didn't watch games in your spare time. so the entire time, you just kept your glance on the tennis boy. 

and then you spot how his leg definitely got slightly injured during the last race, you could tell that his leg was a little uncomfortable when he was moving intensely. 

but that leg did not stop him from aiming and playing perfectly, when he ran past the crowd, it felt like a swoosh of fresh wind. midgame, the ball has gone out of court. it rolls towards you and you watch as he comes jogging to pick the ball up, then accidentally stepping on your shoes. it was a light step but he immediately looked up at you and apologized. you frown playfully and he moves closer to you. “step on me and then we can be fair.” you bite your bottom lip to suppress a dumb grin, shaking your head and gesturing him to go back into the game. 

you look to your right and see the group of girls rolling their eyes at you.  …arent they obsessed with that jeon jungkook or something…?

without a doubt, geo had won the game. you watched the large crowd of girls rush to hand the players drinks and ask for their numbers. you dragged nayeon away from the crazy amount of students that had created a crowd circling the team of boys. and you two make your way towards the convenience store on the other side of the road. 

you pause in front of the drink aisles, struggling badly to pick a drink. just as you were deciding, a hand reached out from behind you to grab two bottles of coke. “oh, sorry-” you turn your head to be faced with the familiar tennis boy. he walked slyly to the counter, paid for the drinks and handed one of the bottles to you. “sorry for stepping on you during the game.” you shake your head, mumbling that it was fine and takes the bottle with both hands carefully as if you were the one who did something wrong. 

he pauses for a second and grabs the bottle back from you before opening the bottle cap for you naturally in a swift motion. “did you not go and offer your little crush a drink?” he said with a teasing tone. you answer convincingly: “there were too many people standing around, i couldn’t squeeze in.

”oh.” he cocks an eyebrow as he slowly takes his phone out of his pocket. “i was talking to jungkook, telling him that a girl in my tennis class is interested in him, and he agreed to…give you his number.” you freeze instantly. “you want it?” he waves his phone at you. 

this is…a little awkward. to be extremely honest, you don’t want his number, but seeing his bright glassy eyes staring at you, it is a little hard to refuse to take the number. you nod slowly as you bring out your phone, and enter the number into your contacts.

on the way back to your dorm, your finger trembled to type something into the chat, all you managed to enter the chatbox was a subtle and small smiley face. 

quite awkward considering the fact that you don’t even know what this jeon jungkook looks like.. 

he replied fast, with just a casual:

‘hey’

you told him that he played really well during the game. 

jungkook thanked you and said that he had received the bag of snacks. 

well, this is a great start. but you can't help but think about what if this jeon jungkook takes an interest in you. 

when you don’t even know who he is in the first place.

the second week of tennis class, you watch the tennis boy walk onto the court with a box of gourmand chocolates. nayeon nudges you when she sees him walk towards you, and stop just in front of you. 

he looked especially calm: “he asked me to hand you this.” you reach your hand out take the pink box of chocolates and thank him with a mumble.

after class, jungkook texted you to ask if you had received the gift, and you two had some small talk. conversations about how your classes went and about his day distracted you, almost bumping into a tree. nayeon laughs as she drags you to the side before that disaster, “might as well go for this jeon jungkook if he’s brightening your day so much, y/n.” 

you lock your phone before linking arms with nayeon. you’ve never realised how often you and this jeon jungkook got along just simply by texting. this situation seems to be a little flirty since he knows that you “like” him. 

“i don’t even know him!! this was just a misunderstanding, there’s no way will i go for him.” nayeon nods her head. “of course i know it’s a misunderstanding, but it seems like it is a good misunderstanding- wait, you’re not telling me that you actually like that tennis guy…right?” 

you stop in your tracks, not saying a word. nayeon cleared the silence: “if you reckon you like the other guy, let jeon jungkook know that this was all a misunderstanding.”

 “that's exactly what i wanted to do, see?” you unlock and show her the texts. “i asked him if he wanted to go out for boba, so i could explain this to him in person, but he rejected and said he has training.” 

he rejected your offer that day, and the day after. 

neyeon jumps up when you read the “sorry, i also can’t do today.” text out: “what the heck!!!! there’s no way he’s that busy?? oh my gosh- he’s a fuckboy!! he’s a literal f-boy that can’t make enough time for all his girls-” 

excellent idea, nayeon. 

you sigh and nayeon notices how your shoulders dropped slightly.

“y/n, how about you tell the tennis guy then, cause you also have some misunderstandings with him, clear the air with him, and he can let jeon jungkook know since he obviously doesn’t have time for you”

you walk into the dining hall, only searching for the silhouette of one specific person. and there he is, sitting alone, enjoying a burger. you walk to the seat across from him, “hey.” the pair of deer eyes lands on you, and he raises an eyebrow. “what?” 

you move at the speed of a snail, taking a seat in front of him: “i have things to tell you.” 

the tennis boy puts down his meal, and slowly squeezes a sentence out his mouth. “then tell me.”

“i was talking about you because you didn’t tuck in your shirt properly the other day.”

“........i wore it like that on purpose.”

“ i was feeding that cat ages ago, like, wayyyy before you did.”

he brought the burger to his mouth, took another bite: “yup. got it.”

“okay then,” you took a deep breath, “i don’t like jeon jungkook, it was all because you misunderstood me, and thought i had a crush on you- which i do not!” you hear a soft chuckle leave his mouth. dude? “what are you laughing about.”

he swallows his bite. “nothing, you go on.”

“i’m wondering if you can go explain this to jeon jungkook….for me?” 

he looks up at you once again. “why should i go explain this to him? you should go yourself.” gosh, he is insufferable. “i really would love to! but i’ve asked to see him multiple times, but he says he is busy every single time!” 

another light chuckle. 

“don’t even laugh.” you feel humiliated, what is the matter? “i’m being deadly serious, can you literally take me seriously?” 

“do you know why you can never seem to ask him out?” the boy stares into your eyes with a hinting glance that you don’t specifically like.

you’re so confused, “no, i don’t know. but that’s literally not the point.”

“well, here’s the point.” he sips his coke and swiftly reaches into his backpack to take out his id, handing it to you. you take the id into your hands and stare at it for a while. “huh?” 

then is hits you, you don’t even know this guy's name. your eyes glance over the id, from the photo to his name..back to his id. his warm dark brown hair looking soft, his doe eyes are soft and very, very pretty. a mole at the tip of his nose, and one very visible mole perfectly under his pouty lips. did you mention he has a perfect smile? 

you almost get sucked into the photo when you realise something. huh?

you unwillingly unglue your eyes from the id and place them onto the face that is currently in front of you. he has the same smile from the id on his face right now. “what does your id mean?” he runs a hand through his perfect locks, “you still don’t know my name?”

something in you clicked. “why are you also named jeon jungkook??” this time, he lets out an even bigger laugh. “i’m the jeon jungkook.” you feel slightly sick. “.....what.”

“who did you even think jeon jungkook was then?”

“i don’t know??? i told you i’m just pretending to like this jeon jungkook person…”

jungkook raises an eyebrow, “you’re not doing much background check before pretending to like them, huh?”

his eyes still fixed on you, now with a teasing tone:” actually you misunderstood in the first place, i never thought you even had a crush on me, until you came up to me and told me that you like this jeon jungkook guy. i was utterly confused, like i thought you were using some creative way to confess to me, get my attention or something.” 

“oh my gosh i did not!” you feel so much embarrassment for yourself, even second-hand embarrassment at this point. jungkook continued: “and then i thought maybe you liked one of my friends, but just got the name wrong. but every single time when i bumped into you, you always seemed to be looking at me first, right?” 

all the blood rushed from your body to your face, and you felt your cheeks flush up. “did not!!!” 

“sure did, doll.” 

“no! see! like it’s all a misunderstanding! you have mistaken me for liking you. it’s not that deep.” you realise you’re extremely loud, causing you to lower your voice to a more softer tone.

“yeah, yeah, whatever you say.” you huff in disagreement, then you realised that you’re not only here to get these words straight but to also admit that you do like him a tad bit….not deny it completely! 

“then who’s number did you give me?”

“mine.”

“okay, so you’ve been playing me” 

“hm?”

“you knew i must’ve gotten something muddled up, but you still text me every day? you’re still giving me snacks? you’re still flirting with me?”

“that’s me being polite,” he mumbled under his breath.

“okay so you do this with everyone.”

“i don’t normally take stuff from other people, or give my number or whatever?”

“then why me?”

“since you’re the one with the biggest crush on me, so i had to be quite courteous.” 

“no. shut up.”

you can’t get yourself to be convinced that you don’t like him, just like how you couldn’t convince yourself that he doesn’t think you had a fat schoolgirl crush on him.

you don’t know what jeon jungkook wants from you! 

after that conversation, it’s like he’s even more convinced that you are in love with him. every time you enter the lunch hall, he spots you instantly, raises an eyebrow gesturing for you to sit next to the empty seat next to him. (as if saying: “here’s your chance to sit next to me, babe.”) when you ran into him in the campus library, he would knit his brows and playfully ask something like “how did you know i was going to be here?”

as if you’re tracking his location or something!!

the next basketball game came very soon. the day of the basketball game you had received a text from him giving you the time of the game and what court it was going to be at bright and early. as if he was certain you were going to go, douche. 

well…that afternoon you showed up with a baseball cap, trying to hide in the crowd. there were way more people this time, how is that even possible? when you got to lay your eyes on him, he was on his phone in the corner, while his teammates were warming up. a little delusional thought popped up in your head. he’s probably sending you a text message…? a notification sound ruined your thought. you feel the corners of your mouth slowly raise as you pulled out your phone from the butt pocket of your jeans.

“Hey! It’s Duolingo.

Make your screen time count. Take a quick Japanese lesson.”

what. you feel a little irritated as you lock your screen and before aggressively shoving your phone back into your pocket, you raise your head to search for jungkook when you meet eyes with him. you didn’t even have to search for him, he was already eyeing you.  his eyes teasingly dart from you to your phone in your hand. dude. 

you were fantasizing about yourself receiving a “where are you” text so you can hit him with a simple and petty  “i’m not coming”!!!!

he went straight into warming up after that short exchanging looks with you, one shot and the crowd of girls starts cheering like there’s no tomorrow. try hard. attention seeker. show off. you think to yourself when you shoot him a dirty glance from the crowd. it’s like he catches that look instantly, jungkook hands the ball to his teammates, and goes back to sitting on the bench in silence. you smile to yourself.

the game finishes and you drag nayeon to sprint out of the court before the herd of people makes it extra difficult. this time, another notification.

jung fking kook : group dinner, u and ur friend wanna come?

you stop in your tracks and text back: nah, i dont even know your friends.

text sent. you and nayeon start walking back when footsteps of someone running up from behind distract you. a large hand grabs your arm and turns you around in a swift motion. 

there he stood, still slightly glowy after the intense game. his eyes looked extra soft and bright under the road light. “let’s go together?” 

how can you ever reject him?

you, nayeon and jungkook went to a hot pot eatery nearby, and you wondered the entire way there if would be so darn awkward when you saw his friends. but thank god, they were way too energetic, to the point they almost didn’t even see you three walk in. jungkook insisted on introducing you to his friends, making sure each and one of his friends greeted you. you leaned closer to him and muttered “how do you know my name?” he whispered back. “not everyone is like you y/n.”

that’s when you figured, maybe he did not tell his friends about the ridiculous things you’ve said and done, since all of them greeted you and nayeon with large smiles. that calmed you down a whole lot. except the blonde boy, park jimin. he seemed like he wanted to jokingly say something, but swallowed his words when jungkook gave him a good glance. 

after dinner, nayeon made some excuses and said she had to leave early while shooting you many knowing looks and childish eyebrow raises. you stand outside of the restaurant while the boys pay the check. this night has never felt so calm on your skin before. you wanted to say bye to jungkook before leaving. but the second the boys came out of the restaurant, the same warm hand placed itself on your arm. “i’ll walk you back.” 

okay. it’s only like 5 minutes but whatever.

there were more people than you expected on the road. usually, you will not pay any attention to the people passing by but maybe because you were walking with jungkook tonight, it seemed like every goddamn couple in the world was next to you two. and everyone recognised jeon jungkook. of course, they did.

he grabbed your hand gently and decided to walk into a dark alleyway. you’ve never realised how nice his hands felt wrapped around your own. in the darkness, you can hear his faint breathing next to you. “lulu used to hunt for mice here.” he broke the comfortable silence. 

you never knew he started addressing her as lulu too. 

“and she had a lover that lived in one of these houses, they used to hang out here,” you added.

“y/n, how do you even know that?”

“i told you i was feeding lulu way before you.” you comment, this is totally a competition now.

you hear him lightly laugh in the darkness. 

the 5-minute walk took at least double the time to get there, some streetlights outside your dorm are old and broken, causing a dim-lit atmosphere. you spot a couple on the side of the street making out. if you walked even closer, you could probably even hear the sickening sounds. jungkook looked extra calm as if he could not hear anything, he walked you to the door and spoke. “you’re here.”

you don’t know what to reply to that. 

“right. i’m home.”

and he turned and walked away.

???

“that’s it?”

“that’s fucking it?:”

nayeon just opened a bag of barbeque chips, getting ready to hear about everything that went down, preparing to be surprised. she sighed to herself. she didn’t even get to get comfortable on your bed!

“he didn’t say anything? you two didn’t even hug?”

you thought to yourself before answering, “we talked about lulu. and that's it.”

“oh my days.” nayeon shakes her head in disapproval “he introduced you to his friends, what is in that little head of his?!” 

“i genuinely don’t know.” you feel a twinge of sadness growing in your chest, “maybe we overanalyzed this.” 

if this is what it feels like to like somebody, you’d rather stay single for the rest of your life. 

you decided to have a good, relaxing shower to get your mind off things. when getting into your bed, you receive a text. 

jung fking kook: breakfast tmrw?

you did not feel like replying, leaving the message read. 

jung fking kook: or lunch? both?

you felt so aggravated, your fingers moving so fast to type your thoughts out without thinking about what you wanted to say.

y/n: you’re so bloody confusing, are you currently demonstrating to me how a guy acts when they know a girl likes them or are you showing me what a guy does when they actually like someone? because this is getting so damn tiring for me, jungkook.

no emojis. you’re letting him know this is bloody serious. 

the grey typing icon pops up from the bottom of the screen, then disappears. 

audio message.

you almost jump off your bed to grab your earphones. popping the earbuds into your ears, you hear the familiar voice. before the voice could even warm your heart up, it felt like a cold splash of water in your face instead.

“hey, look im so sorry, i just- i just don’t know how to tell you this.” 

rejection tastes great, doesn’t it!

another audio message followed up. you disconnected your earphones, you do not have time for this rejection anymore.

jung fking kook: listen to it.

y/n: i’m tired. goodnight.

after typing the “good night” message out, you felt your curiosity eating you up. you pop an earbud into your ear, and press play.

“you’re correct, this is exactly what i’m doing. what a guy does when they genuinely like somebody.” you gasp and before you could even reply, an incoming call from jungkook comes in. 

“hi.”

“hi.”

“did you open it?”

you didn’t know how to respond. you panicked. are you going to say yeah i heard you just say you like me or are you going to play dumb like no bro what did u say haha

“yeah.”

“i knew it.”

“okay jungkook.”

“i’m downstairs.”

“you’re what?!”

“yeah. come down.”

jeon jungkook is going to be the death of you. (end)

here is my masterlist if you want to enjoy some more of my writing!

and until next time, kae.

[words-with-wren]

okay here's another one

“Can you fix my memories,” Jamie asked finally, breaking the silence. The Doctor glanced up at him for a moment before turning back to his work. 

“I don’t know,” he said finally. “I can’t get my own back to fix the TARDIS. My people are… thorough.” He put down what he was working on and stared at his hands for a long moment. “Jamie I… I shouldn’t have let that happen.” 

Jamie couldn’t read the expression--it was very bank, very empty. Emotions hidden behind a mask; a mask different to the one the Doctor he knew wore. He couldn’t read this Doctor, not like he had learned to read his Doctor, the Doctor who danced at the edge of his memories with a laugh and the sound of a recorder. 

He thought maybe this was an apology.

[writeonwhiskey]

act like you love me: ch 7 (18+) MDNI

a/n: this is coming out at this random hour because i forgot to send out the snippet on the mailing list again and i feel bad 😔 enjoy! word count: 4,780 tracklist: love untold, railway (i've once again placed in the chapter where these songs were most impactful while writing if you wanna feel that vibe out) [ fic master list ]

7 - The Scene After the Scene

WEEK 6 (continued)

Getting through that rehearsal took all the thoughts and prayers. It was a constant barrage of physical contact with Hyunjin after three days of being apart. Granted, that’s not a lot of time, when you think about it, but you haven’t gone more than a day without seeing him since you started filming.

You didn’t expect to miss him. You didn’t expect to leave set wanting more.

But you did. And you still do.

A few weeks ago, you couldn’t have fathomed feeling remotely fond about that man, let alone yearning to be near him. But in the time that has passed, you’ve seen and learned so much that opposes your initial assumptions of him. His gentle, compassionate side has been on display more frequently and that, combined with all that continues to shift between you—since dinner, since the club, since the camping trip—is threatening to undo your professionalism.

It’s a continuously growing revelation.

The biggest takeaway from today, though, is that Chan approved of the choreographed scene. He sat and listened to the suggestions you and Hyunjin had come up with for the filming style, too. You’re beyond thankful to Chan for being willing to work with you, and to Hyunjin for helping you voice your concerns, addressing them, and eagerly working to make it something you’re comfortable with having on screen.

After you wrapped for the day, you were tempted to hang around in your trailer until Hyunjin finished but figured it would be best not to.

However, since coming back to your hotel room, all you’ve thought about is the potential repercussions of pursuing something physical with Hyunjin. But with the way that rehearsal went down, you also considered how good it might feel when the layers of clothing are finally removed.

You close your eyes, sinking into the couch as you imagine the feeling of his hands touching every part of your body, his lips trailing kisses down your stomach and your pussy quivers at the thought. You bite your bottom lip, hand creeping toward the waistband of your pajama bottoms.

You have to be professional at work. But when you’re home alone…

Your phone suddenly buzzes next to you, and you startle, heart pounding as if you’ve been caught. Your eyes widen, reading the name on the screen: Persistent Prince 👑.

Why right now?

Is this a sign?

Or maybe an omen?

You contemplate letting it go to voicemail, but you’re too curious and too hopeful right now. You clear your throat, press the answer button and put the phone to your ear.

“Do you bother all your co-workers this much?” you ask dryly, as if you weren’t just about to diddle your fucking bean to thoughts of him.

“No. Just you.” He replies and your heart smiles. “So, you’re up?”

“Clearly.”

“You busy?” he asks, ignoring your sarcasm.

Although you’ve always spoken to each other this way, it doesn’t have the same weight of pettiness and bickering as it once did.

You quirk a brow. “Why?”

“Meet me in the lobby in thirty minutes.”

“What if I’m busy?”

“If you were you wouldn’t have answered. Unless…” he trails off.

“Unless…?”

“You’ve been waiting for my call.” You can practically hear the smile in his voice. “See you in thirty.”

He hangs up, giving you no time to accept or decline.

You could disregard the invite and stay cooped up in your room for the night. In fact, that’s probably the best choice.

But you’re already standing from the couch, forsaking that logical little voice in the back of your mind. You head straight to the bedroom, puzzled about what to wear. He didn’t mention a dress code. Jeans and a t-shirt? Or something sexier? He did seem to like your outfit at the club a lot.

No. The least you can do is not tip this in that direction by wearing anything too thought-provoking. You’re just going to hangout. That’s it. Jeans and a t-shirt it is.

Thirty minutes later you’re standing in the lobby of the hotel, looking around nervously for fear that Minho or Han might see you. But you remind yourself that you hang out with them all the time.

This wouldn’t seem any different...

Hyunjin emerges from the other elevator moments after you. He’s clad in dark clothing, a hat pulled low and covering far too much of his features. He gestures towards the exit, and you walk out together.

“Where are we going?” you ask as Changbin takes off.

“You’ll see when we get there,” he replies.

You hide your smile. A surprise?

“What made you call out of the blue?” you ask.

“We didn’t have a lot of time together on set today.”

You can’t be sure, but it feels like an ‘I missed you’ is hidden in there somewhere.

You missed him, too.

When you arrive to the destination, Hyunjin gets out first and holds the door open.

“Thank you, Changbin,” you say on the way out.

“I’ll text you when we’re done.” Hyunjin says, leaning in the car to speak to Changbin.

“I’m going to bed. It’s a thirty-minute walk back. You’ll be fine.” Changbin replies.

Hyunjin huffs, shaking his head as he closes the door. “It’s hard to find good help these days.”

You nudge him playfully with your shoulder.

“An illusion museum?” you ask, reading the sign above the entrance.

Hyunjin grins. “Thought we could use a night of fun.”

[song: love untold]

Inside, the place is quiet—almost closing time—which means you have most of it to yourselves. The first room is a giant mirrored maze, and you’re both immediately separated, laughter echoing off the glass as you keep running into your own reflections.

“You good?” Hyunjin calls.

“No,” you say between laughs. “I’m fucking nauseous—there’s too many of us.”

Eventually, you find him again—his face breaking into a relieved smile. And for a second you just stand there, facing each other. Reflections of the two of you ripple across every surface, warped and multiplied. It’s a perfect representation for the situation you’re in—endless possibilities and outcomes.

He reaches out and your hands meet against the mirror first, to which you both chuckle. Then he finds the real you and laces his fingers through yours to pull you close.

“There you are.” He places a quick peck to your lips.

You bite your bottom lip to keep from smiling too widely.

“Next room,” you suggest, pulling away.

In the upside-down kitchen, Hyunjin jumps into character, pretending to stir invisible soup from the ceiling, and insists on snapping photos with the worst angles imaginable.

“You’re going to regret these,” you warn. But as you scroll back through them, he’s perfectly photogenic in every single one, regardless of the angle. “Your face is so unfair.”

“You can thank my mother.”

“Not your dad?”

“Maybe for my humor,” he shrugs.

At the forced perspective wall, you pretend to be a towering giant while he crouches small in the corner. “This is kinda how you make me feel on set,” he teases. “Tiny.”

You continue throughout the other rooms, your bodies like magnets. You drift apart for a while when exploring and taking pictures but come back to each other’s side right after. He holds your hand a few more times, steals a few more kisses. And after a while you stop acting like it annoys you.

When you’ve gone through all the exhibits, he thanks the employee for letting you stick around after closing and you exit.

“Convenience store run?” he suggests when you’re outside.

You hesitate. This would be a good time to call it a night. That would be the wise and responsible choice. But you did just have fun with him, doing something completely normal and nothing like the NC-17, perhaps XXX, content that’s been plaguing your mind.

And yet, you don’t feel like you’ve had enough time with him.

You still want more.

“Yeah,” you reply, smiling.

You walk in the direction of the hotel and stop at the first convenience store. The inside is fluorescent and freezing. You each grab a green basket at the entrance and start down the aisles like it’s a timed competition. Hyunjin tosses in triangle kimbaps, banana milks, and a pack of shrimp chips without hesitation. You, more thoughtfully, grab ramyeon, a bar of dark chocolate, and two bottles of water.

You both come to a stop at the wall filled with a wide array of gummy snacks.

“You’re going for sweet and spicy,” he observes, peeking into your basket. “Classic.”

“You’re going for chaos,” you reply, eyeing the random snack combo he’s put together. “Is this your usual dinner?”

He shrugs. “Tonight’s my last cheat night. I’ll be hitting the gym every day now until the shirtless scene.”

You gulp.

Hyunjin shirtless is the last thing you should be picturing about right now.

Your eyes travel to his chest of their own accord, but you quickly avert your attention to the gummies on the shelf and grab a peach pack.

You don’t even like that flavor.

“Do you want to make the ramyeon here and eat outside?” you ask.

“Is there another option?”

“We could go back to the hotel…” you trail off, letting the offer linger in the air.

“To our separate rooms?” he tilts his head to the side.

“Depends if you know how to cook without burning down the place,” you tease. “…but we could go to my room.”

“You okay with that?”

You shrug. You’ve done well keeping yourself in check so far. You can handle this.

Maybe.

He pays for your haul and you resume the twenty-minute walk back to the hotel. It’s mostly a silent trek, and you can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking. He knows this is a bad idea too, doesn’t he?

On the elevator ride up, you’re racking your brain for the state you left it in. You’ve made a conscious effort to keep it relatively clean and if anything is out of place, he doesn’t comment on it when you enter.

You advise him to sit at the table while you take the bags into the kitchen, but he doesn’t listen. He’s at your side, opening cabinets and drawers, taking out cooking utensils and seasonings.

“Please, you’re a guest.”

“Fine.” He says, after taking out a pair of bowls and setting them next to the stove.

“Get comfortable—you can take off your disguise,” you tell him.

He pushes off his hood and removes his hat before sitting on one of the barstools across from where you’re prepping.

Your hotel smells like garlic within minutes. You’re stirring a pot of noodles, vaguely aware of Hyunjin looking more at you than the food.

“You actually know what you’re doing,” he says.

“Shocking, I know.” You toss him a playful look over your shoulder. “I feed myself like a grown-up.”

“You’re ruining my image of you.”

“And what was that?”

He grins. “Someone who survives entirely off iced americanos and anxiety.”

You snort, putting the noodles into the bowls and sliding one in front of him. “You’ve got me mixed up with Han.

“That’s actually pretty accurate,” he laughs, picking up his chopsticks to take a bite. He blows on the noodles before slurping them up. The look on his face giving away just how hot they are. “This is really good,” he manages to get out.

“You sound surprised…again.”

“I am surprised. You’re hiding all these domestic skills.”

“Guess we’re both full of secrets.”

The clink of chopsticks against ceramic takes over for a moment as you both eat.

“I like this,” he says eventually.

“What?”

“Hanging out with you.”

There’s that openness again—the thing that sneaks up on you when he stops trying to be amusing, or charming, or anything else.

You opt not to respond verbally, nodding your head instead.

He offers you the last bite of his triangle kimbap, and you shake your head, but he leans forward anyway, holding it out.

You sigh at the weight of this gesture. You can deny your feelings all you want, but he doesn’t seem to have any intention of doing the same. You take the offered bite from his hand.

When you’ve both finished eating, Hyunjin insists on washing the dishes, not accepting your rebuttal that he’s a guest. So, you sit sideways on the couch and watch him work, making small talk. He tells you he has a few more projects coming up after this to finish out the rest of the year and won’t have a real break until December. You finally tell him about your conversation with Chan.

“KBS?” he repeats. “No shit?”

You nod.

“Are you going to do it?”

“My agent thinks I should. But I don’t know if it’s the right career move…”

He’s silent for a moment as he continues scrubbing at the dishes.

“Do you want my input?”

You don’t know when it was that you came to rely on his guidance, but you’ve stopped questioning what he tells you career-wise as anything other than helpful. He always seems to put you first, more so even than your agency.

“Please.”

“I think you should take it. Chan’s right about that—it’s a great opportunity. It will be good publicity for our show, but it also gives the general public a chance to fall in love with you,” he says, and your brain gets stuck on how those last four words sound falling from his lips. “All it takes is one high ranking exec’s teenage kid to start blabbering about how great you are, and they’ll be calling you up with more work.”

He dries his hands and comes to sit on the couch, his right thigh just near your feet.

“You think so?”

“I know so. I understand what you’re up against, but you’re really kind of amazing and I don’t think you see that the way everyone else does.”

“Situations like that interview tend have a longer lasting impression than anything positive,” you say.

“Fuck that guy.” He repeats his sentiments from a few days ago. “It’s easy to let the negativity cling to you in this industry. You can’t let it.”

You nod.

He glances around the room before turning to you with a smirk. “Alright, you’ve seen my art, my hidden passion. Where’s yours?”

“I don’t have a penthouse suite, so I packed light,” you tell him.

“Pity,” he clicks his tongue and shakes his head.

You smack him on the arm.

“There’s gotta be something you come home to unwind to.”

“I really didn’t bring anything,” you shrug. “I do have a Lego collection of landmarks from around the world at home. My dad is in the army, and he’d get me one of every place he was stationed, and I’ve just kept up with it on my own.”

“That’s nerdy. But cute.”

“Don’t make me hurt you, Hyunjin.”

He smirks. “I could be into that.”

You offer a small chuckle to brush it off.

He lifts your legs from beside him and drapes them across his lap, his hands resting on top. He doesn’t touch you beyond that, doesn’t bring you closer. He just looks—at your face, your mouth, your eyes—and suddenly, it’s quieter than it should be.

You speak first, wanting to lighten the air. “Do you always stare at people like this?”

“Only when I’m trying not to do something stupid,” he murmurs.

You swallow, looking down at his hands, unsure whether you should pull your legs away, or move yourself closer.

“Tell me not to,” he says. “And I won’t.”

You must stay silent for too long. Because without warning, his hands grab your hips, sliding you toward him until the back of your thighs are pressed against him. Your pulse quickens at the sudden movement—the closeness.

You look up, meeting his gaze. “We shouldn’t.”

His eyes drop to your mouth again, lingering there for a moment.

“Is that a no?”

You know you shouldn’t. He knows you shouldn’t. And yet, you shake your head anyways, and he leans in slowly, giving you time to move or change your mind.

But you don’t.

When his lips meet yours, it’s gentle at first. His body is tense, like he’s still holding back. But when you wrap your arms around his neck, hands caressing his head, you feel the change in him. He really kisses you then. No hesitation. His mouth claims yours, tongue slipping between your lips like he owns you already.

You’re both aching with everything unspoken—the stolen glances, the unfinished thoughts, the pent-up energy and tension from filming and rehearsing. But you can’t shake how good it feels to be connected to him like this. And you still want more.

You break the kiss, resting your forehead against his as you both catch your breath. You pull away, leaning back until you’re lying flat on the couch. You keep your eyes on him, grabbing his shirt to pull him closer. He readjusts you, then himself before settling on top of you, fitting between your legs as if he belongs there.

He kisses you again and when you arch your back, pressing your chest into him, his hands snap to your sides like he needs to hold you still or he’ll lose control.

“Take it easy,” he warns against your lips.

Was he intending only to kiss? Perhaps that would be okay…

But the heat between your thighs says that it’s not.

So, you nip at his bottom lip and rock your hips up, slow and purposeful. He groans as a small gasp escapes you, feeling the pressure of his cock through his jeans, right where you need it.

He drags his mouth down to your jaw, then lower. His teeth graze your skin, and you tilt your head to give him more access. You slip your fingers beneath his shirt, nails lightly gliding across bare skin. He shivers.

He leans back just enough to look at you, cheeks flushed.

“What about thinking? And not letting the moment get the best of you?”

You never thought you’d curse a man for actually remembering the things you say.

[song: railway]

“This doesn’t feel like just a moment,” you softly admit. “And…I want to.”

You roll your hips again. This time he grabs them tight, grinding down into you with a low groan.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Maybe just this once?” you try to roll your hips again but his grip on you is too tight.

“To get it out of our system?”

“And then back to professional?”

Neither of you answer a single question asked.

Then, his hands leave your hips and in seconds, his shirt is gone.

You stare. His torso is lean and defined—not gym obsessed perfection, but real. Beautiful. His eyes scan your face as he reaches for your shirt. You sit up a little and raise your arms.

Your bra comes off next. You unhook it yourself, letting the straps fall, feeling shy as his gaze roves over you like he’s never seen tits before. He covers you, bodies flush now, every inch of you ignited. His mouth crashes against yours, hungrier, rougher.

Your heart is fluttering and racing all at once. It’s overwhelming, how much you want him—how long you’ve been trying not to. And he’s kissing you like he needs this just as badly as you do.

You’re both too far gone now.

He groans when your hand slips beneath the waistband of his jeans. You cup his cock over his briefs and squeeze gently.

“Take your pants off,” you whisper.

He lets out a sharp breath and sits up, shoving his jeans down, boxers still on but strained against his cock. You push your jeans down, too, kicking them out of the way.

He stays upright on the couch, pulling you into his lap this time, your thighs straddling his. His fingers skim your waist, dragging fire along your skin. His gaze drops between your legs.

“Red tonight, huh?” he comments, to which you chuckle.

He kisses your breasts, alternating between taking one in his mouth and circling his thumb around the other, gentle at first, then firmer when your hips grind against him. The little fabric still separating you is such a fucking tease, but the added friction feels good.

“Fuck, y/n,” he groans.

You grind your hips again.

“It shouldn’t feel this good, right?”

“It really fucking shouldn’t.” He agrees, leaning back on the couch to just watch you please yourself.

All you can focus on is the way rubbing your pussy on his cock feels and the way he’s looking at you like you’re something sacred and sinful all at once.

He reaches down, his finger slipping between the thin material of your underwear to pull them to the side, leaving nothing between your clit and his boxers.

“Look how fucking wet you are already,” he says, as you start moaning.

But you don’t need to look. You can feel it. You can hear it.

And you want his boxers out of the way too, now. You still need more. You grind harder, locking your fingers behind his neck.

He pulls you to him, kissing a path up your chest, then your throat, nipping lightly beneath your jaw.

“Hold on to me.”

He grabs your hips suddenly and lifts you. You lock your legs around his waist, lacing his neck and shoulders with kisses as he walks down the hall to the bedroom.

This. This is what you envisioned when rehearsing.

It felt wrong to imagine it then.

But it doesn’t feel wrong right now.

The only light entering the bedroom is what drifts in from the window.

He lightly tosses you onto the bed and you move back to make room for him. You expect him to lie on top of you again, but he has other plans. He lays down flat on the bed, one hand slips up and over your thigh to grip it. With the other, he strokes a finger up and down your pussy, over your underwear, teasing you.

“Hyunjin—just take them off.”

“You want to feel my fingers on your pussy, jagiya?”

Fuck. Double fuck. Those words.

You nod, your hips circling against his finger. Your clit is pounding—begging for more.

“So fucking wet,” he murmurs.

“Hyunjin,” you plead. “Please.”

He smirks up at you before pulling your underwear to the side, planting his mouth right where you want it.

You moan, your head falls to the side, eyes shut. You were half-expecting delicate, teasing licks but his tongue is relentless, sliding up and down, lapping you up. He draws out every sound, every buck of your hips.

When the pleasure threatens to unravel you, your fingers clutch at his shoulders, desperate to bring him back to you. He finally relents, rising to his knees with a heated look in his eyes. With one hand, he slides your underwear down your legs, tossing them aside, then pushes his boxers down to free his cock.

You let out a low exhale, licking your lips at the sight. He’s thicker than you imagined—not too girthy—and already glistening at the tip, making your thighs instinctively part wider.

He shifts closer, settling between your thighs, his cock hovering just above your dripping pussy. His fingers wrap around the base, and he drags the tip slowly up and down your slit, teasing you again with every pass until he pauses at your entrance, his gaze flicking up to meet yours—like he’s asking one last time if you’re sure.

You give a subtle nod. “Come here,” you whisper, hands reaching for him.

But he just smirks, shaking his head. “I have to see your face.”

You’re spread open beneath him, vulnerable and aching.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmurs, and you feel the shift as his hips begin to slowly press forward.

He sinks deeper, inch by inch, and your mind begins to blur.

Finally.

“It’s perfect,” you breathe.

“Like a glove?” his grin is wicked.

You swat his chest. “I can’t stand you.”

Your laugh is cut short by a sharp gasp as he sinks into you fully.  

This is what your body’s been screaming for in every moment you spent pretending you didn’t want him. You feel stretched, filled, split open in the best way.

You both groan.

He moves slowly at first, unhurried. You match his rhythm, legs locked around his waist, hips tilting upward, fingers roaming his chest—memorizing the way he feels above you, inside you.

He lowers his forehead to yours, your breaths mingling.

And really does feel perfect.

He presses a kiss to your lips before pulling back, hands gripping your thighs as he starts to thrust deeper, harder. Each stroke feels like he’s letting go of something he’s been holding on to for far too long. And maybe you are too.

“You feel so fucking good, y/n,” he declares, slowing his pace just enough to make you whine. Every slow push deeper knocks the air from your lungs; every draw back has you chasing for more. “So. Fucking. Good.”

He emphasizes each word with a thrust of his hips.

“Hyunnie,” you moan.

He chuckles softly at that, his hands sliding back to your legs to unhook them from his waist. He pulls out just enough to flip you onto your side, curling himself behind you. His arm slips beneath your head, cradling you close as he pushes back inside. You gasp at the new angle—the way it lets him reach deeper, the way his chest is pressed to your back, lips brushing against your ear.

“You like when I fuck you?” he whispers.

You nod, unable to form words.

“You thought about this when we were rehearsing too, didn’t you?”

You arch into him, threading your fingers through his on the mattress as he fucks you, unrelenting now.

“My cock in your pussy—tell me how much you wanted it.” His other hand slides to your breast, gripping, kneading the soft flesh.

“So fucking bad,” you admit, breath hitching.

“Me too. I wanted to know how tight you’d feel around my cock. How wet you’d be for me.”

His voice is far too close. Saying far too many filthy things. The sound of skin slapping skin is joined by his ragged exhales and your whispered pleas—to fuck you harder, to make you come.

“You going to come for me?”

“Yes,” you whimper, thrusting back against him.

His hand leaves your breast to curl tightly around your waist, holding you right where he wants you.

“You’re mine now, jagi,” he says, voice low.

You cry out at the possessive growl in his tone.

“Hyunjin—I—I’m—”

“Let go,” he breathes. “With me. I got you.”

And you do—tumbling right over the edge, turning your face into the mattress to hide your cry. He follows soon after, groaning against your shoulder as he fills you.

And then…silence.

Except for your breaths. His chest still pressed to your back. His hand still tangled with yours.

It doesn’t feel real.

Not just the way he fucked you—like he couldn’t help himself, like he needed it—but the way he’s still holding you now.

Your heart pounds in your chest, and not just from the high you’re still coming down from. But because this wasn’t supposed to happen. Not with him. Not like this.

But now that it has, you can’t bring yourself to regret it.

“Fuck, I should have grabbed a towel,” you say, breaking the silence.

You feel the moment he starts to stir, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder, and you hear the smile in his voice when he speaks. “We could shower.”

“We’ll mess up the sheets. I don’t want to explain that to the maid.”

“It’s fine.” He shifts slightly behind you. “We can make it to the bathroom like this.”

You snort, turning your head. “You’re not seriously trying to walk like this.”

“Why not?” He grins, wrapping his arm tighter around your waist. “Teamwork.”

It’s ridiculous. And yet, you let him guide you to the edge of the bed, both of you moving in clumsy tandem, still connected, stifling giggles like teenagers.

You’re bent forward, hands braced against the wall as you inch your way toward the bathroom and he’s behind you, smug and unbothered.

By the time you reach the bathroom, you’re both breathless from laughing, from the afterglow, from everything.

Somehow, it really is perfect. And so much more than a moment that got the best of you.

a/n: FUCKING FINALLY. i hope it was worth the wait 😊 i swear the scenes where i was listening to love untold would play out as the cutest music video ever. a fun date at a museum? convenience store run? ending with them taking the elevator up, and fading to black when they enter the hotel room. do you see the vision?? and if you hit play when railway is mentioned, the beat drops in right around when he's taking his shirt off, depending on reading speed of course. its *chefs kiss* and then the undressing bits would play out kinda slowed down ahhhhh! sorry that's the filmmaker in me blabbering, i love picturing how scenes would play out as a movie/show/video etc. anyways lol, i'm going to try doing a tagging list again. please comment here or on the master list for this fic if you'd like to be added. i tweaked some settings, so hoping tumblr stops maxing me out at five people??? ready to kms over ts (jk, im just dramatic, pls) tagging those that have been commenting faithfully, so don't even ask, you're already on it my loves.

@hwangjoanna / @hanniesbubuwife / @straycat420 / @tsunderelino / @dessianna1 / @akindaflora / @tirena1 / @krayzieestay / @ehstay

[aliensunflower-fics]

My Recommended Fic List

So, I got this ask awhile ago, and since I have been re-reading a bunch of my old favorite fics as a way to cheer up after work I figured why not. This list will be long... and varied but mostly its older fics cuz idk there my favs. Now lets go:

Fashion Upgrade - By @soap-lady : Straight up one of my favorite fics ever, its fun, its creative, it never fails to make me laugh when I need something warm and wholesome after a bad day. Also go check out the rest of her stuff there's so much good okay like shes just a writing queen. Shes on AO3 I don't want to spoil you on her other stuff just GO experience it for yourself.

Ode To Decoy pt 1 / 2 / 3 - By @a-marlene-s : Ive always liked this short sweet little fic about Lila getting caught. Its Lila + class salt though so avoid if that's not your flavor.

EVERYTHING - By @unmaskedagain : They have salt, they have sugar, they have funny, they have crossovers. Like honestly they are a just a great writer with so much variety so go check out the masterlist I linked and I guarantee there will be something there you like.

@ravennm84 Is a writer on the saltier side but they have a wonderful selection of weird wacky tales from the salty but oh so well written Damning Evidence that sees Lila get caught in the best way to the 3 part Horror inspired Serafina other great fics from them include Marinettes Family Court Circus pt 1 / 2 and Of Moldy Bread and Cockroaches / Be Kind to Servers honestly its worth giving there blog a look.

@mochinek0 Is another writer with several beloved fics. They write a lot of Maribat and we love them for it. Ones to check out would be Blind Date / Bruce vs Gabriel just go check out there tag list of daminette for more.

Accidental Crime Boss Marinette - By @lady-literature : This is a wonderful idea and a wonderful little fic and I just... I just like it okay. Sadly I haven't read a lot of there other stuff... But I might after finishing this list considering how much I enjoy this one.

@nobodyfamousposts I love a LOT of there fics. They are one of the best when it comes to striking that sweet spot of calling out the show for some of its garbage while not getting so salty that you cant have fun lighthearted goodness. I have been looking for a masterlist of there work but cant find one so just go stalk there tags. I do recommend there Chloe's Lament Series 1 / 2 exploring how certain 'wishes' would backfire. Guardian Assistant Kevin is also a good one Miracle Queen Aftermath pt 1 / 2 / The 8 parter Burn the Witch series / The Wisdom Teeth Reveal / Kagami Vs The Wall of Faces / Resigning With Grace & Spite / I tried to give a lot of links cuz they have a lot of stuff

Kill Them With Kindness - By @luki-fanfic : Well written, good salt without going overboard. Just good vibes. I havent stalked there other stuff but if its anything like this fic its probably excellent quality.

Stephen Vladislav pt 1 / 2 - By @stormiclown : Adrien centered salt on the idea of finally giving Adrien his own proper rival. I like the idea of Adrien having a rival because its usually Marinette and this was just the right length to get those creative ideas flowing. Also just well written what more can you ask for.

Power Trip - By @storygirl000 : This was the first fic that made me go... Wait would it be more fun if Lila was actually competent? And that set me on the path to writing my own fics where Lila is more villainous and more capable. Its short, well written. Good.

Your Wish is My Command - By DemiGoddess28 on AO3 : A great 11 chapter fic looking into Lila's life if she were to win and get a miraculous wish. Its got sugary goodness for our protagonists and the class and salt for our dearest friend Lila.

LadyBugOut AU - By Miraculous-Content on AO3 : A 50 chapter fic made up of snippets and ideas. I found it really inspiring in many ways. I also love how it redeems Marinettes classmates showing how and why they were tricked but holding them accountable anyway its just... Good.

Juleka vs The Forces of the Universe - By goldenlaurelleaves on AO3 : For those of us not yet ready to accept the death of luka/mari we have this wonderful fic showing Juleka being the biggest wingman as she helps these idiots find there way together.

ChaoticNeutral on AO3 has there own Chloe's Lament fic as well as a Gabriel's Lament fic for people who need sweet salty of those two characters.

BroadwayCutie16 was Inspired by the person above and DemiGoddesses your wish is my command fic to write Lila's Lament fic going over Lilas failed wish. Honestly I always love these fics because there just so interesting and the way wishes can be taken and twisted is always a fascinating idea to me.

#WayneAngel - By Tired-Writing-Teach on AO3 : For us Maribat lovers. Its fun and lighthearted with some good gags and some light fluff.

Damian in Paris - By Lilliesandliveries on AO3 : A sweet Maribat series showing what would happen if Damian ran away from home and found himself in Paris and getting therapy.

How a Demon Commissions an Angel - By AlixAnonymous : Damian blackmails Marinette into letting him be her client so he can get his bros the best gifts, they end up becoming penpal buddies.

Mythomania - By LadyEnna_50 on AO3 : Proof that I dont hate Adrien or Mari/Adrien. In this fic Adrien's spine gets titanium plating and he sees just how bad Lila is hurting Marinette and does something about it.

The Contingency - By AbyssalGuardian on AO3 : SALT. Also Tim/Mari but even still I love the way this was written, the style, and some of the ideas just ugh love it. Its not for those who dont like salt so just avoid at your own discretion. Its about a chaotic Marinette done with her life running away to Gotham where she meets her true black cat, and gets her life back on track.

The String That Binds Us - By FaithAndATypeWriter on AO3 : Okay so is there any Mari/Bat fan who hasnt already heard of this one? Who cares its good, its cute, I love it. May the author be blessed with snacks.

The Great IKEA Game - By @batsandbugs : Okay again... I think every Mari/Bat fan has probably heard of this one already because its just that good and that popular. But who cares I am recommending it anyway. Don't read if your allergic to fun I guess.

If this list still doesn't somehow have enough salt for you then try @goggles-mcgee fics here is a link to there Masterlist. They are in a way a professional at salt and angst and they make you want to adopt Marinette and pop her in a blanket fort.

Honestly I could keep going but this list already feels so long for other great recs though I can link you to @jayphoenic who has some great Daminette Fic Recs and some Lila Salt Fic Recs!

Feel free to reblog this and add some links to stuff you would think I or others might like! Also lets just acknowledge how many talented authors the community has like wow.

[rizzanon]

Heyy how are you?

helloo!! using this ask to answer everyone who’s been asking for my wellbeing these past two weeks! i’ve been doing alright!!

ramadan this year was just a little more tiring that usual and i didn’t really have the motivation to go and answer my inbox these past few weeks so that would explain my inactivity lol 😅🥲 (so sorry for those who sent in asks 😭)

but that doesn’t mean i haven’t been thinking about undoing fate and batfam feb (if we can call it that still 💀 it’s almost april oh my days)

that being said, i officially won’t be back until april at best, it’s exam season again and i totally flopped my H2 chem paper (fucking hate organic chem so much)

i’ve already drafted all of the works i planned to post during batfam feb, but some are still not finished yet—i’m planning to multi drop them when i’m freed from the shackles of exams 😭😓

and undoing fate chapter 8 and 9 (yes 9 🙂‍↕️) will be dropping sometime in april (mid april latest)

so stay tuned!

that being said, incase you guys want to know what i’ve been doing (other than racking my brains for exams 💀), just click below the cut.

was super hyped for invincible season 3 and i loved every bit of it (rexsplode you will be missed dearly—it should have been immortal 💀) and i absolutely loved marks black and blue suit (we gotta love our graysons and their redheads 🥰🤗)

and because i kinda got back into my invincible hyperfixation, i can’t help but think of regressor! sister grayson—you’re a year younger than mark here(but technically i wouldn’t call this version a regressor, just someone who regressed once and used it to her full advantage) and have been exploiting my sideblog to test it out a bit… (these are privated lol)

got the motivation when i rewatched season two and remembered angstrom mentioning how in quite a few dimensions, debbie joined nolan and mark in their conquering, so take it that in her first life, she came from such a dimension, but when she regressed, she found herself in the current dimension that we know of… somewhat.

i completely understand if yall think this is probably more of an oc than a x reader type but yes this was kind of self-indulgent and still a wip lol

that being said, i also made some other platonic aus—if there is a batsis au, there must be a supersis au too! 🤭

probably won’t be a series, just some fluff works surrounding this au lol

and i’ve been delving into the actual comics for arrowfam and green lantern corp as well so i can’t help but imagine…

of course once again, this might be very self-indulgent and probably more of an oc than x reader, but i can’t get this idea out of my head until i write it all out 😓🫣 (incase you can’t tell all these ss are just snippets and i’ve written a lot more in my sideblog posts lol)

there’s still that one bruce wayne x childhood friend! reader slow burn fic that i have in my drafts that’s 90% done as well as another work i’m working on… so yes, i’ll most definitely be spoiling you guys in april 🤗🤫

ALSO THANK YOU FOR 2.5K FOLLOWERS WHATT that’s insane 😭🫶🫶

i think that’s mainly it 😅

oh

i also got addicted to dc dark legions 😓💀

still learning the meta behind these but i didn’t expect myself to fall in so deep 😭

red hood is still one of my best characters (he should have been red but thank god he’s yellow, because he’s been carrying my team, along with mera lol)

hate the fact that my beloved nightwing is so hard to get though 😭 so yup, that’s about it! let me know what yall think about the few teasers i dropped lol)

[manufactured-pleasantry]

Those of you reading my fic 'Hundred Day Curse' on AO3 may enjoy this snippet. It's a scene with Alfred and Bruce, set in the future of the fic that may or may not make it into future chapters. IDK yet. I like it, but it might not fit with how I eventually write the rest of the fic. Even so, it's a spoiler for them meeting again, so click read more at your own risk! (It's 1700~ words btw)

Bruce stared at Alfred as discretely as he could. He wasn’t entirely sure Alfred hadn’t noticed - he was Alfred, after all - but the man continued on as if he hadn’t so Bruce kept watching. Alfred was brewing tea in the suit he’d always worn; dark suit, white shirt, dark tie, and white gloves. His butler suit.

'Love me.'

Bruce hadn’t signed any employment documents recently so he was confident that he hadn’t rehired Alfred as the Wayne butler. Even if his parents hired Alfred for a lifetime, Bruce was rather certain that became null after Alfred had formally retired. Lifetime employments don’t tend to resume after retirement. Alfred couldn’t just rehire himself, could he? Why would he do that? Maybe Alfred was under the impression that the only capacity he could be in Wayne Manor was if he were a butler.

'Love me. Love me.'

That was silly. The kids invited Alfred over (because they couldn’t trust Bruce to take care of himself and Alfred was being shackled with him again after he finally escaped—) and Wayne manor was as much the kids’ as it was his. (Even though they didn’t really want it.) Surely Alfred knew that the kids saw him as something like a grandfather—he didn’t need to be a butler to stay here.

'Love me. Love me. Love me.'

Alfred placed a cup of tea in front of Bruce. It was doctored exactly how Bruce like it - the current Bruce, not the old man that actually enjoyed bitter things, because somehow they were still sweeter than his decrepit soul. With milk and an overabundance of sugar. An insult to proper tea but the only way Bruce was able to stomach it back when he was a child.

“Thank you, Alfred,” Bruce murmured. Because he wasn’t in a speaking mood but manners were a must.

“Your thanks is appreciated but unnecessary, Master Bruce,” Alfred responded.

Master Bruce. He drank some more tea. For surely the milky beverage would drown this ugly emotion in his chest. It was better than Mister Wayne, he told himself.

'Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me.'

Alfred had not made himself his own cup of tea. He busied himself with making lunch instead. Cute little tea sandwiches, including the cucumber sandwiches that he knew Dick hated but Bruce secretly liked. Usually Alfred would have the sandwiches prepared before he served tea but Bruce wasn’t going to complain. He liked watching Alfred cook. Alfred’s movements were always so fluid, so sure, never pausing as he moved from one step to another.

'Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me.'

Bruce would enjoy this more if he hadn’t been basically ordered to remain by Alfred’s side while his kids busied themselves with work. Ordered, like a misbehaving child in desperate need of supervision. Bruce hadn’t been misbehaving. He’d been good. He broke zero rules and took care to ensure he didn’t break the not-really rules either. Bruce didn’t need Alfred to be his nanny again.

'Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me.'

“Sandwich, Master Bruce?” Alfred offered.

Bruce nodded and Alfred plated five different tea sandwiches on his plate. He didn’t thank him again because apparently his thanks was unwanted. The sandwich was good and exactly how he remembered them tasting.

“Alfred?” he inquired, after he finished his lunch. “Why are you here?”

“Why am I here in the kitchen or why am I here in the manor?”

“The latter.”

“The children informed me of what happened and I thought it best if I were here to help,” Alfred answered.

'Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me.'

“You’re retired,” Bruce stated.

“Yes, I’m aware.”

“You’re no longer a butler.”

“One does tend to disidentify with their job title once they’re retired, yes.”

“Why are you here?”

“I believe I’ve already answered that, Master Bruce.”

'Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me.'

“You’re being obtuse,” Bruce growled before freezing. He had no right to growl at Alfred like that. No right to lose his cool. No right to be so rude.

Alfred sighed and Bruce braced himself to be dragged into Time Out. He knew Alfred didn’t do Time Out but prepared himself anyway.

“I was informed that my ward had reverted to that of a child’s physique. It is only natural that I have returned.”

Ward? “I have not been your ward for decades.”

“You’ve been in my charge since you were born, Master Bruce.”

'LOVE ME!'

“Uncle Philip is my legal guardian.”

Alfred’s fluid movements stuttered for a moment before resuming. “I seem to recall that he entrusted you back into my care after a scant two years.”

“You were my employee.”

“... Indeed.” Alfred opened a drawer and retrieved the silverware. He began to polish them.

“Alfred, why are you here?”

“What answer are you seeking, Master Bruce?”

He fell silent and watched Alfred polish the silver. Alfred would never give him the answer he desired.

'Why won’t you love me?'

“I want the truth.”

“I’ve told you the truth.”

“Then why are you dressed like a butler?”

“I’m comfortable dressed like this.”

“So you’ve not rehired yourself?”

Alfred’s mouth twitched. “No, I have not. I’m still retired, Master Bruce.”

“Then why are you here?”

Alfred sighed. “I’m starting to suspect that you do not want me here.”

'Will you ever love me?'

“I just want to know why. You left.”

“So did you. For four years, with only a brief visit in between.”

Bruce clenched his fists. “No, you went home.”

“I retired, Master Bruce. I did not go home.”

“Why are you here?”

'How do I earn your love?'

Alfred put the silverware down and made eye contact with Bruce. “My retirement was dreadful. I had not desired it, certainly not in the way I spent it. I had rather been here instead of retiring.”

“Then why retire?”

“Because, Master Bruce, I’ve noticed over the years that whenever I went on vacation, you were more careful on patrol. You got hurt less. You ate consistently. You slept more. I figured I was enabling you by virtue of being here and assisting you in everything you desired. I lacked the willpower to simply refuse you and so I remove the temptation and I retired. I wanted to return many times but feared that I would go back to enabling you. However, considering you’ve managed to embroil yourself in greater troubles than previously thought possible, I figured my retirement made no difference and saw no need to torment myself any further.”

“... You retired for me?”

Alfred huffed. “I retired out of misplaced judgement. I was simply being a fool, deluding myself. Trust me, I shan't be doing that again any time soon.”

Tell me.

“Am I correct in assuming you wish to come out of retirement?”

“No, Master Bruce.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Tell me what you do understand and I shall endeavour to explain what you don’t.”

“You retired for my own good but you’re back because it wasn’t working and you didn’t like retirement but you’re still retired.”

“I didn’t like retirement because it kept me away from Gotham. I’m perfectly content with being retired in Gotham.”

“But you’re performing butler duties.”

“I’m not.”

“You made me tea and sandwiches.”

“Yes.”

“I do not understand.”

Alfred sighed again and placed the silverware and cloth down. “Forgive me.”

Bruce frowned.

“You’re right. I’m being obtuse. Perhaps I’ve been obtuse all along. I thought you understood our silence, Master Bruce. I thought I understood your silence. Now I realise I’ve been wrong all along. I’m sorry.”

“... I don’t understand.”

“In truth, I haven’t been here in the manor in a butler’s capacity ever since your parents passed that fateful night. Though I performed my duties, that was more from habit and personal enjoyment than anything. I suppose I was also afraid of change when so much already had. I had convinced myself that you needed the familiarity, when the reality was that I that relied on it.”

When Bruce didn’t respond, Alfred continued.

“It was foolish of me and that has cost you and I too much. You especially. Decades of silence, unspoken thoughts left to fester uncontrollably, it has done us no good. Well, my retirement has given me much to think about and this conversation has given the final push I needed. You asked me why I have prepared you tea and sandwiches; I did so because I wanted to, because it is how I show my care, because you are my child and you hadn’t eaten yet.”

To hear it spoken so plainly made it seem so simple. It hurt that his insecurities could have been so easily settled if only he had the courage to ask. If only Alfred had the wherewithal to breach the topic. If only.

“Ask me again why I’m here.”

“Why are you here?” Bruce asked, chin wobbling with suppressed emotion.

“I am here because I am your guardian, your friend, whatever it is that I mean to you. I am here because I want to be.”

“... Because you care for me…”

“Because I love you,” Alfred corrected.

'You love me.'

“You love me,” Bruce repeated, voice thin with tears.

“I do. I always have.” Alfred dabbed away at Bruce’s face with a handkerchief.

“I have more memories of you than I do of my father, even when he was alive.”

“The late Dr Wayne was a busy man,” Alfred admitted. It was the closest Alfred would ever get to criticising his former employer.

“Mama said my first words were an attempt to say your name.”

“A fact I treasure to this day.”

“You’re the one to turn towards when I need help.”

“I’m grateful that you let me.”

“I want you to call me Bruce. Not Master Bruce.”

“Bruce.”

The call was unfamiliar in Alfred’s clipped tones but oh so beautiful. It was what he’d wanted for over thirty years. This simple address. Bruce devolved into a mess of tears and clutched onto Alfred’s lapels. Alfred responded by pulling Bruce to his chest and embracing him tightly.

“I think of you as a father,” Bruce confessed through his sobbing.

“I think of you as a son.”

“I love you.”

“And I love you.”

It was all so simple, really.

[blackknight-kai]

Any headcanons for Sun Wukong and the Destined One [separate] catching female reader masturbating while crying out their name?

GOING BRAINROT FERAL HERE!

Ahem….

Thank you for feeding us with your delicious posts;)

Sending you lots of love and blessings, sincere and heartfelt health wishes too🩷🩷🩷

Okay okay I’ll give this a shot 😏 I personally feel like it might depend on the mood and where they are in the relationship. BUT I’ll give a crack at this one! This will be a specific scenario as I work better like that - in this you are in a relationship with them but haven’t progressed to the next level yet and you are a bit pent up. There will be a little rushed snippet and then the bullet point notes :) WARNING: I went more NSFW in this than previous asks. This is Fem reader! MINOR DNI

(Note after finishing: I got carried away…..after writing this I realized I kinda made two fics so….its a bit long sorry not sorry :))))))))))) (I’ll be turning these into mini fics I think on AO3 since i basically wrote them already 💀)

(Read under the cut 😘)

Destined One

He’d left you alone to scout the area around your near and camp as he does every night for any possible danger or trouble that might happen upon you while resting. You’d decided to take a little personal time while he was away, something you wouldn’t normally do but you guys had found a little cozy cave to rest in for the night. Knowing it would be a while before he came back you set about quickly setting up your furs and bed rolls, your body already revving up in anticipation for what youre going to do. You’re happy being with him, finally having confessed mutually and sneaking a few kisses here or there between your travels but watching him day in and day out fight with such focus and strength has culminated in a prominent need.

A need to have his hands on you for more than just guiding you or helping you stand, to feel his fur brush against your naked skin, to deepen those tantalizing kisses. You just WANT. And he hasn’t made any moves to show you that he wants more besides maybe what you think is a disappointed look in his eye when you both pull back from your kisses and go about your day or whatever task is at hand. He’s not very expressive as it is, you were lucky to manage getting a slight flush on his cheeks and a firm head nod when you guys decided to be a couple. He’s good at masking his emotions and so while you want him, youre a bit nervous to tell him what you need. You have no doubts he’d fulfill it especially if it’s something he wants too. But getting the courage up to ask is another thing entirely, part of you wishes he would just DO something.

So instead of communicating your need you decide to take advantage of this prime opportunity while he is away, its been too long since you had any real privacy and you can already feel yourself pulse as you finish setting up for the night

Just in case you listen closely for a moment to see if there is anyone close by but hearing nothing you settle down on to your back on your bed roll. Your breath picks up as excitement washes over you and against your better judgment you slip your clothes off. Goose bumps ripple over your skin as the warm breeze gently flows through the cave. Your heart races and as you skim your fingers across your breasts and nipples you sigh as you close your eyes and imagine familiar claw tipped hands replacing your own. You picture him above you, his determined frown focused on you as he explores your skin. As your imagination takes hold you continue your perusal of your body sliding your fingers down trying not to rush too much in your need as you spread your thighs.

- [ ] His patrol doesnt take quite as long as it usually does tonight

- [ ] At first he takes his time heading back just enjoying not having to be in a rush for once

- [ ] But as his too sharp hearing picks up the distant sound of your voice, what sounds like a pained cry, he immediately goes tense and is off running back towards your cave his staff gripped tightly in hand

- [ ] As he quickly grows closer he notes a distinct difference in your voice, something about it makes him slow down

- [ ] Your sounds are not what he usually associates with your fear or pain

- [ ] Instead as the next sound carries through the forest for his expert hearing, the breathy tone of your voice instantly sends a ripple through him and makes his fur feel like its standing on end

- [ ] He’d heard these sounds before, just not from you. The other monkey’s from home would occasionally sneak off with each other and he’d have the pleasure of hearing their activities even being quite a ways away.

- [ ] This though doesnt give him the same grossed out feeling

- [ ] Oh no. It sends a tidal wave of heat straight to gut

- [ ] You are being pleasured and by the sounds of it youre enjoying yourself

- [ ] A flash of possessive anger rushes through him wondering who could be touching you in such a way that wasnt him

- [ ] But as he stalks closer and steps between the trees he freezes

- [ ] Relief washes over him, youre alone

- [ ] But thats quickly replaced by instant hot desire as his mouth goes dry and his length starts to harden just from that first glimpse

- [ ] You’re in the shallow cave NAKED and on your back, knees up and thighs spread.

- [ ] His mouth slowly falls open as his expression goes slack as it becomes very clear what you’re doing by the wet slick sound coming from between your legs where your hand disappears from his view

- [ ] He cant even blink nor look away completely and utterly locked on to your flushed skin and the needy pinch of your brow as you pant making soft little moans

- [ ] As you arch your back, a louder cry leaving your mouth as you shift your hips desperately, he feels his cock throb painfully bringing him back to reality for a moment

- [ ] Shame courses through him, he should NOT be watching this, you obviously waited until hed been gone to take your pleasure he should definitely grant you your privacy. While you are a couple he wasnt one to push past your boundaries not wanting to make you do something youre not ready for no matter how much he struggles to not touch you every damn day

- [ ] But he cant seem to move, not as your breasts jiggle softly from your body’s movements your peaked nipples drawing his attention.

- [ ] He licks his lips, tail twitching with jerky movements behind him as he feels his cock leak and wet the front of his pants from your display, fuck does he want you

- [ ] Clenching his fists hard, digging his claws into his skin he tries to come back to himself and just as he’s about to turn away from you your fingers seem to speed up and then he hears it

- [ ] It being HIS name being ripped out of your mouth in the most breathy needy tone he has ever heard, the name youd given him.

- [ ] He has to grip himself HARD to stop himself from cumming on the spot and he shudders as the wet sounds your fingers are making is driving him fucking insane

- [ ] He forgets himself completely and unable to help it steps towards you as his own desire to be the one to make you cry for him like that over takes him

- [ ] He practically pants, his breath coming in short bursts as he takes in your sweat slick skin and the red flush

- [ ] His body thrums with heat as the sounds of your moans and the wet easy slide of your fingers is all he can focus on as he steps onto your bedroll, his dick is hard as hell and twitches with every sound you make.

- [ ] And your scent, fuck he can smell your ecstasy and need. It makes his knees weak and his mouth water

- [ ] You dont seem to notice him right away, not until he’s dropping to his knees hard right beside you fully taking in how wet your thighs are and how slick your fingers look as they disappear inside you

- [ ] As you register his sudden presence though your eyes fly open and your movements freeze, he cant help but track the movement of your breasts as you lie there panting and surprised

- [ ] He doesnt give you even a moment to freak out or whatever it is you might do

- [ ] No, instead he places a shaky hand on your arm, the one you stretched down between your thighs as you took your gorgeous pleasure

- [ ] “Can I?” He asks lowly, voice rough with disuse and filled with thick desire. “Please?”

- [ ] You seem to still at his request your eyes widening and he holds his own breath waiting to see what you’d do. He hopes with every fiber of his being you say yes

- [ ] When you nod shyly and begin to retract your hand he slides his gently down your arm and shivers as his claw tipped fingers meet with your slick warm ones. His eyes never leave yours as much as he wants to look down, he doesnt want to miss the expression on your face.

- [ ] He doesnt hold your hand though, instead he continues his gently descent until he meets your soaked warm pussy lips

- [ ] It’s then that he finally lets out the breath shaky he was holding as you arch up into his touch pushing his fingers to slide further against your slick core

- [ ] His cock jerks painfully at how hot and wet you feel as his fingers tenderly explore. As you close your eyes reaching up to grip his shirt with your still slick fingers he lets his own gaze slide down your body watching as you shyly shift your hips against his long fingers

- [ ] When you let out a little breathy sound as he brushes against your little nub he knows hes a fucking goner

- [ ] “You’re so beautiful,” He’d mumble raspy and heated

- [ ] And when he finally slides a finger in you another immediately follows. with you so slick and ready for him causing him to groan deeply

- [ ] He has made it his mission from here on, this is how you will spend every night from now on. You wont need to take things into your own hands, not if he can help it.

Wukong

He is away doing whatever it is that Wukong does every day. Be it fighting something, pissing someone off, or just getting into something he probably definitely absolutely should not get into. You’d been hurt, twisted your ankle of all things, so you were stuck back at camp. You’d found a little shallow cave two days ago to recover at, not wanting Wukong to carry you everywhere. On the surface that sounds nice and he would definitely do it as you either fed his ego or told him he was too weak to do it. He’s easy like that. But what isnt easy to deal with is how much fun he has tossing you up and down or making you almost sick as he bounces you as he walks just because he thinks its funny to make you squawk with annoyance at him. So it’s easier to just rest and enjoy a little peace while he gallivants off to cause whatever mischief that doesnt have to do with you for once as you are his usual victim. Apparently having mutual feelings and being mates does not quell his need for chaos. In fact it amplifies it you think.

The only downside to having his attention on you even more now is that the mischievous little (he’s taller than you but thats besides the point) asshole doesnt seem to have a horny bone in his body. It’s been months of simple hand holding, if you can get him to sit still long enough, and literal stolen kisses. He apparently enjoys his little surprise attacks as they fluster you but not because youre too shy or because it scares you, no. It’s because you need more than a simple kiss or his soft fuzzy tail wrapping around your waist or arm keeping you close to him as you walk. You’d even tried once to time changing your clothes so they were partly off when he would be arriving back to camp after doing a quick patrol only for him to immediately start ranting and raving about some slippery little creature he’d happened across as he poked at the fire and began cooking that nights dinner over the flames. He didn’t even spare you a glance and his posture was relaxed as can be. Not even as the sound of your clothes rustling seemed to catch his attention as he drooled over the cooking food.

And so, your frustration escalated. You know at some point you’ll have to talk to him but thats a problem for future you because you just KNOW it’s going to be an ordeal. Nothing can ever be easy with him especially when it comes to his damn ego which no doubt will be stroked heavily knowing you want him, that is unless he doesnt have an inclination towards such intimacies.

Today he had been especially restless and so had you. You had decided that while he was gone you were going to pamper yourself a little and relieve the sexual tension you’d built up inside yourself. Watching his ever present shows of strength and that cocky attitude of his always sends a stirring in you and it doesnt help when he walks around sometimes with his shirt off showing his rippling muscles under all that soft looking fur. When he finally grew too impatient with sitting around, he didn’t like having to wait for you to heal but agreed to it nonetheless knowing you aren’t built like him, he stood abruptly and told you he was going on an adventure. You waved him off trying to be nonchalant as excitement tickled down your back knowing what you had planned for yourself for the day.

And so as his furry tail flicked out of view you waited a handful of minutes giving him time to get some distance away before you couldnt take it anymore. You’d gotten a nice body oil from a village youd passed by a week or so ago, it smelled lovely and reminded you of peaches. You hadn’t used it yet, but figured if it had a fragrance Wukong’s sensitive nose wouldn’t be too disturbed if it smelled like his favorite snack. Acting quickly you hurry to wash your skin and body in a near by spring. You might have taken your time normally but you didn’t want to put this off any longer. After youre done you make your way to back to the shallow cave and sit on your bed roll and fur blankets that Wukong had gifted you. Your skin is still a little damp and the afternoon breeze makes goosebumps ripple across your naked skin. With a small content hum you grab your sweet scented oil and being applying it to your skin slowly, gently, enjoying the sensation as your body starts to warm up from your ministrations.

As your breath starts to quicken you lie back on the furs and using both hands you glide your hands across your soft oil slick skin sensually. It’s not long before you close your eyes and start to lose yourself in a fantasy, imagining a hard but softly furred body rolling against yours and curious fingers possessively mapping out your skin as teasing fangs nip from your neck to your breasts.

- [ ] Wukong had grown bored VERY quickly after he left you at camp. There was NOTHING around for him to do no one to fight and no distractions from his ever growing need to be closer to you - which he will NEVER show.

- [ ] He doesnt know if youre doing it on purpose, probably not, but the way you sometimes look at him makes him twitchy and hot. He’s not some impulsive boy unable to control his more primal urges but you test his control daily

- [ ] He’s not sure if you’ve been using a new scented lotion or perfume but the scent coming off of you at random times the last several weeks has been making him need to grind his teeth to keep from reaching out and pulling your body tightly against his

- [ ] Thankfully he’s learned self discipline and finds it relatively easy to keep an air of innocence around you, not wanting to scare you off with his ever present and growing desire to lick you from your cute little toes to your sweet sweet mouth.

- [ ] Sitting around camp with you today was testing his patience. He’d noticed that slight flush on your cheeks assumed you may just be a bit warm as the day was a little hotter than usual. Unfortunately the sight of your reddened cheeks did nothing but fuel his imagination.

- [ ] If hes honest with himself desires like this were new, not in regards to you, but in general. So getting away from you for a while was always the best bet, he keeps an ear out in case you need him of course but fighting something always helps relieve the tension he builds up being in your presence

- [ ] Unfortunately the area surrounding your little temporary home was quiet. Too damn quiet. He almost thinks about going a little further out but quickly decides against it, not wanting to get too far from you in case something DID happen

- [ ] Which is why, as he’s hopping through the large forest trees, he ends up circling back towards the shallow cave

- [ ] His pace is fairly lax, enjoying the warm air and the calm familiar sounds of the woods

- [ ] Wukongs mind wanders a little to what lies ahead on your little journey as he makes his way back. He’s quite lost in thought so it takes him a moment to realize that something is amiss as he gets closer

- [ ] His sharp ears pick up the sound of your voice but it’s not something he’s heard before, or well he has, kind of. Only when youd eaten something really really good and you make a happy little noise that always makes his old heart skip a beat

- [ ] Well now he’s just curious, what did you find to eat? Were you hiding it from him to keep it all to yourself? How had he not known? Or smelled it?

- [ ] With a huff he picks up his pace racing through the trees determined to give you shit for trying to hide some wonderful little treat from him

- [ ] He can hear you better now that he’s close and just before he breaks through the trees he stops with a smirk deciding to sneak up on you as punishment

- [ ] But in his haste he missed a crucial detail - one he now is acutely aware of as he pauses just as the little camp comes into view

- [ ] He freezes, going completely still as he takes in the sight before him and the very obvious soft squelching sound echoing a little in the shallow cave. His keen hearing amplifying the sound.

- [ ] Hot HOT desire ripples through his strong frame causing every single hair on his body to stand on end like he’d been hit by lightning as he takes in your naked body, hips shifting just so as your hand is going to work between your thighs as you moan

- [ ] His simian nostrils flare as your scent hits him like a boulder almost knocking him off his feet, well at least now he knows where that heady scent you sometimes carry comes from. He salivates at the thought of tasting your nectar. There’s another scent mixed with your pleasure, faintly it smells almost like peaches but not quite.

- [ ] Your soft sounds wash over him causing a full on shudder to go through him. His cock hardening in an instant as you then whine HIS fucking name

- [ ] Something inside him almost snaps - later youd tell him it was his arrogance and ego swelling to the size of 5 mountains

- [ ] You are touching yourself wanting HIM, Wukong, and that sends a possessive growl rumbling through his chest, his claw tipped fingers flexing with the need to reach out and grab you, to touch you, to run his claws gently down your skin and watch you shiver and squirm

- [ ] You dont hear it of course too lost in stuffing your needy hole but by the sounds of it, its not quite enough for you

- [ ] Wukong keeps himself in place for a moment longer as he watches you tend to yourself, one of your hands slides up the side of your breast and pinches a nipple and he licks his lips at the sight, wanting to know what they taste like

- [ ] His tail flicks with pent up energy behind him as he finally stalks forward, a predator about to pounce on his prey

- [ ] But he has no intentions of helping you as he strips himself of his shirt letting it fall to the ground not caring where

- [ ] His furry chest is rapidly expanding with his quickened breaths, he breathes purposely through his nose wanting to capture every moment of your scent and commit it to memory

- [ ] Finally sensing you’re not alone you open your eyes and still with a sharp shocked breath. He watches as your cheeks redden further with surprise and embarrassment

- [ ] Quick as a whip before you can even pull your fingers away from your soaked pussy he’s between your knees bullying his way through with one hand holding you open by his grip on your thigh and his tail wrapping around the other. Spreading you open for his heated gaze

- [ ] He has ahold of your wrist preventing you from pulling back and before you can even think of protesting he pulls on your wrist, gently but firmly, you gasp as your fingers slip out of your pussy, the wet sound sending a tingle of embarrassment through you

- [ ] Instantly he has your dripping fingers pressed against his nose and mouth as he huffs in your scent before licking at them

- [ ] Feeling you tremble in his strong hold and your little shocked gasp he locks eyes with you and smirks as he licks your fingers completely clean as though he was starving for the taste

- [ ] He can tell you dont know what to do, that your torn between embarrassment and want. But he doesnt mind, he’s made the decision for you

- [ ] Wukong nips your fingers teasingly before he lowers your hand and places it back against your pussy, he uses his fingers to press yours pointedly against your slick lower lips and the little wet sound that accompanies the movement makes you both shiver.

- [ ] He slips his fingers in between yours, teasingly touching you for a moment as his fingers glide through your slick

- [ ] A light growl/groan rumbles through his chest as he looks at you with half lidded eyes filled with naked desire

- [ ] Slowly and deliberately he lets go of your hand, pleased when you keep your hand right where he’d placed it, and begins undoing his pants

- [ ] His puffs his furry chest out a little and chuckles, the sound husky as he watches your expression turn needy as he dips his hand into his pants and brings his throbbing dick out, enjoying how heavily your breathing gets and how your eyes seem to be unable to look away as he spreads your juices over his cock

- [ ] Scooting forward so that his cock presses against the back of your knuckles he smirks down at you

- [ ] “Since you decided to take your pleasure for yourself, give us a show my sweet peach.” He demands like the king he is with no room for arguments, wanting you to resume touching yourself while he watches and takes himself in hand. Punishing you a little for taking a special privilege away from him

[dottielovegood]

Beautiful! When can we indulge in some more „Heat“? I am cravibg your fic sooo bad 🥺

Hi!

The next chapter is currently 2034 words long (my chapters are usually 7000+ words). Out of those 2034 words, I would say that 65 % are shit, or not even written in English (my drafts are usually a messy mix of languages, lol).

BUT

Since it's the last day of Elriel month, I'll give you a little snippet of the next chapter. My original plan was to finish the fic during Elriel month, but life had other plans (like a new job that kept me busy + writer's block).

Mind you, I might change all of this when I actually finish + edit the chapter, but for now, this is the first part of the last chapter of HEAT.

Enjoy <3

───── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─────

Mate. 

You are my mate. 

Elain could do nothing but stand there and stare at him as the words seemed to echo between them. She knew what the words meant, of course she did. She had read the books. She had heard the stories. She had laughed at the absurdity of people believing that soulmates were real. Just a few months ago those words had held no meaning to her because she didn’t believe in such a thing.

Mates. 

It was something that only belonged in movies, or in romance novels, not real life. It was a fantasy that was about as real as unicorns. Nuala had even asked her a few weeks ago if she thought that she would find a mate now that she was an omega, and Elain had laughed at the question. Not because the question was funny, but because it made her feel a new sense of panic she had never experienced before. 

What if she did find a mate?

What if she was mated to someone she didn’t know? 

What if she didn’t even like the person?

If mates were real, how would you even know that you were compatible?

The questions she had never before considered had invaded her mind that day and for days after, she had been on edge, especially when she knew that there was an alpha nearby. What if that mate-thingy just snapped into place while she was in line at the grocery store? Could she be mated to an alpha that smelled like sour socks and sadness? Did she have a say in who she was mated to?  Could she say no?

The mere thought of being mated to another person had scared the living shit out of her and now, here she stood, one hand on the doorknob while the other rested on Azriel’s chest. 

Over his heart. 

My mate, he had called her. She waited for the panic to set in. She waited for the questions and the doubt and the shock to bubble up from the depths where she had buried it all. She waited, and waited, and waited, but the panic never came. Azriel’s heart was beating a steady rhythm beneath her palm. A rhythm that matched her own. Home, her heart seemed to tell her. He was home.