#but that gets so hard to keep track of after a while

[yukurie]

Wait I had an amazing idea: Dcxdp but instead of Danny ending up in the batfam Danny is in metropolis

What if Clark is absolutely sure Danny was a kryptonian with a health condition? So I like the idea of Danny occasionally having to make sure his heart is still beating while in human form and the little stutters sound like a small heart condition to Clark, now this would normally not be a problem as Clark would just keep an eye on Danny but Danny sometimes gets too focused on something and forgets to check his heartbeat and it stops and when he realizes he taps his chest to “get it going again”. Also Clark always just happens to be around when a ghost shows up (yes they followed Danny, they need their enrichment) so he sees and feels the subfreezing mist that comes from Danny’s mouth and sometimes see’s Danny’s eyes glow green accidentally and knows that despite Danny’s “condition” Danny is much stronger than a human should be because of an accident that happened that ended up with Danny lifting he shouldn’t be capable of.

The thing is every time Clark tries to talk to Danny to see if “Danny knows what he is” Danny seems to disappear and somehow Clark can’t follow (hard to track a ghost lol). This culminates in Clark taking the nuclear option: Clark breaking into batman’s cave to use his computer to find out anything he can on Danny. This then leads to Batman coming down to suit up for the first time after a full week of having to show up as Bruce to galas to see a sleep deprived and obviously heavily caffeinated Clark with a bulletin board that looks oddly like a mess of conspiracy theories about Danny in front of the bat computer.

[angelpuns]

“ I've eaten bigger birds than you for lunch, is that all you got?” Leo chuckled, hopping backwards as one of the thugs slashed at him. A lie, since he quite literally had run away from said ‘bigger guy’ just a little bit ago, but these mutant thugs wouldn't know that. 

He’d stopped running when he realized those guys weren't following him, hopping down into an alley to see if he could find something to wear for the time being. It was still chilly, even as the sun was rising into the sky, and he wasn't sure how long he'd be out here. 

After all, he'd yet to come up with a good plan. 

All three of thugs were some kind of birds, though obviously Leo didn’t have the time or care to identify them. 

The one attacking him screeched and slashed at him again with knife-sharp claws, barely missing his plastron. He could probably take these guys, but he had also just woken up, been ran out of his home and was fucking freezing. 

Time for plan B. 

“ As pheasant as it was talking with you, this is starting to get hawk-ward,” 

He dodged another swipe and opened a portal, giving the oversized birds a quick salute as he stepped into it, 

“ so I'm gonna go ahead and duck out while I still ca-”

He was cut off by a screech and the painful tug of one of the thugs grabbing his leg just before he made it into the portal. 

It wrenched him out with a grip far stronger than he thought it'd be, the creature flinging him into the nearest wall with a CRACK!. 

His shoulder burned with pain, a thin line of blood oozing down from a scratch there. He barely had a moment to cover it before he was slammed back into the wall, face pressed into the gritty bricks. That was gonna leave a mark for sure, especially because he was missing his mask. 

His swords were on the ground, just next to his feet but still just a little too far too reach. 

“ H-hey, don't get your feathers ruffled, guys!” He chuckled, fear creeping unto his chest. This felt a little too familiar. Like the leftover sensations of his nightmare were creeping into reality. 

The thug holding him scoffed and pressed harder, sharp talons pressing into his scales. 

“ all turtles this fuckin’ talkative or just you?” 

Leo swallowed. Shit, what was he gonna do? No swords, and he was never really good at hand to hand combat. If he could just…

“ Hey, I'm the only talkin' turtle out there,” he tried to sound convincing, even if then hulking creature in his bedroom had been vaguely turtle-shaped, “ your whole flock as fowl-mouthed as you?”

That earned him another slam into the bricks, and a harder squeeze. Blood trickled down his face and into his eye, Leo blinking hard to try and clear it. He inches his right foot closer to his sword, if he could just distract him enough to break free…

He was starting to feel a bit lightheaded, though, and one more slam could easily be a concussion if he wasn't careful. Or worse. And trying to get home like that would be…yikes. So he had to time it just right. 

“ Hey, what do you call-”

The joke has barely left his beak when something slammed into the thug, taking him down in an instant. There was a flash of red, purple and orange, and Leo quickly grabbed his swords.  Whatever it was, they acted so fast he could barely keep up. Shit, maybe he already had a concussion. He hated treating those, keeping himself awake through’em was like torture!

He hurried to make a portal, turning to thank whoever it was, only to see the same hulking creature and the only slightly familiar faces of the two other guys from his room earlier. 

He went cold from head to toe, falling backwards into the portal and letting it take him wherever it took him. He couldn't go home, they were following him. 

Tracking him! But how - he has portaled, he had- 

Leo swallowed as he landed firmly on his bed - despite not wanting to go home - and a new dread filled his stomach. 

They must have put some kind of tracker on him while he slept. He sat up, the motion making him dizzy. 

How the hell was he gonna get out of thus one?

-----

More of this unnamed au :)

I don't like writing fight/action scenes so this one ended up being pretty short, but I hope y'all like it nonetheless ;)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

[44unique]

my skin on your skin, again and again

lando norris x franco colapinto

summary: lando skips the gp celebration, and franco joins him to offer comfort. their mutual attraction surfaces, leading to a night of vulnerability and passion.

warnings: explicit content

word count: 1426

a/n: this work was inspired by the results of the brazilian gp but it took me a while to finish it (im sorry ig), and people on twt keep shipping them so here it is another story :) english is not my first lenguage

------------

It was Sunday night, and Max and the other drivers went out to celebrate after the race, everyone except Lando. He just wasn’t in the mood. Things hadn’t gone the way he wanted on the track, and even though some of it wasn’t his fault, he couldn’t shake the frustration.

Meanwhile, Franco wasn’t feeling as low as Lando, but he’d had a rough race too. He didn’t feel like mingling with the others at the party, so he chose to stay back in his hotel room instead.

Franco knew Lando had decided to stay behind, and he thought he might be able to cheer him up. To be honest, Franco had felt a spark of attraction ever since he had first met Lando. He liked the way Lando was so funny and kind, always the first to include him in every conversation and every plan the others made. He liked Lando.

But he wasn’t sure if Lando might feel the same way—or even if he’d feel something for another guy. Franco had heard rumors about Lando dating that girl, Magui or whatever her name was, and that only made him more insecure about how he felt. But he decided to ignore his doubts, take advantage of the small boost of confidence he was feeling, and go knock on Lando’s hotel door.

Lando opened the door after a while. His curls were wet, and he had a big old shirt that clearly didn't fit.

“Hello” Franco greeted, his boost of confidence beginning to fade.

 “I thought you went with the rest”

Franco denied “I didn't really want to go out”

Lando invited him in, his room was a bit messy and a bottle of wine on the table.

“Want a drink?”

The youngest nodded, just because he didn't feel like going out didn't mean he didn't want to drink.

“How did you know I was here?” Lando asked

“I saw you a little depressed, I assumed you weren't in the mood to go out”

Lando nodded, agreeing.

“Can I ask what has you like this?”

“The race didn't go as I wanted”

Franco was genuinely mesmerized watching Lando vent to him, he has always been positive and cheerful attitude, he had never seen him like that.

And deep down it scared him how much he liked being able to be there to cheer him up.

“What can I do to make you feel better?”

Lando looked at him with a raised eyebrow and raised the wine glass to his lips. "You can’t do much."

Franco clicked his tongue. “Come on, ask me anything”

Lando analyzed the situation. He had Franco in front of him, on his bed, trying to cheer him up and he had just told him that he could ask him for anything he wanted. And Lando certainly didn't feel like asking for what his mind wanted.

“Is what you want so difficult?” The youngest smirked, a playful glint in his eyes as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. Lando’s breath hitched, feeling as though the moment might just undo him.

And at that moment he didn't mind too much to leave the almost empty cup on the bed and jump on Franco to join their lips.

Franco didn't hesitate a second to give it back, if Lando regretted it at least he would be left with the experience.

But it wasn't like that, Lando didn't pull away, in fact he began to move his lips deepening the kiss, and Franco was clearly not indifferent, opening his mouth to give himself more access.

The bed had already several red stains due to the wine, but none of them cared, not when Lando was under Franco trying to pull him closer by the hair.

Franco was the first to break away, to try to catch his breath and get an explanation for what was happening. He looked directly into Lando's eyes, his pupils were so dilated that it was hard to distinguish their color.

“What's wrong?” Lando asked between gasps

“What are we doing?”

The curly-haired man's brow furrowed slowly. “Don’t you like it?”

“It's not that, I just don't understand why we're doing this”

“Cause I like you and I can tell that you like me too” Lando said, frustrated by the lack of action.

Franco sighed, relaxing a little, not too much, he couldn't when Lando was completely at his disposal with his messy curls and his lips and cheeks completely red.

He didn't think too much and joined Lando again in a battle for who had control between their mouths, he knew he wouldn't regret it. And if Lando for some reason did, the memory would be eternally in his mind as one of the best moments of his life.

Franco’s hands roamed over Lando’s chest, his fingers brushing against the smooth skin, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath his touch. Lando’s breath hitched when Franco’s lips found his neck again, kissing along the sensitive skin just below his jawline. A low moan escaped Lando as he tilted his head back, giving Franco better access, urging him to continue.

The tension between them was palpable, both of them needing more. Franco’s hands moved lower, skimming down Lando’s sides, pulling at the waistband of his pants. Lando’s breath caught, his body instinctively arching toward him, as he pulled Franco back into another deep kiss.

Lando broke the kiss, gasping for air, his hands pulling at Franco’s shirt, desperate to feel skin on skin. Franco didn’t waste any time, quickly stripping off his shirt and tossing it aside. Lando’s hands roamed over his chest, tracing the muscles he had only imagined touching. They shared a heated, hungry kiss, their mouths moving together as if they couldn’t get enough of each other.

Lando’s hands gripped Franco’s shoulders, pulling him down onto the bed, the sheets tangled beneath them. Lando’s legs wrapped around Franco’s waist, pulling him closer, grinding against him. Franco groaned, his body responding instantly, the friction between them driving him wild.

With a quiet growl, Franco moved lower, his lips trailing down Lando’s chest, kissing along the line of his collarbone, his breath hot against Lando’s skin. Lando shivered, his hands pushing at Franco’s hair, urging him to continue. He didn’t need to be asked twice. Franco kissed his way down, finally reaching Lando’s stomach, pausing for a moment to glance up at him, his eyes dark with desire.

“You okay?” Franco murmured, his voice low and rough.

Lando nodded, his breath ragged. “More than okay.”

Franco didn’t waste a second. His lips found the sensitive skin of Lando’s lower abdomen, and Lando couldn’t help but gasp. His body tensed in response, his hands fisting the sheets, his mind buzzing with the intensity of the moment.

Franco’s hands continued to explore, pushing aside the final barriers between them, his touch demanding and precise. Lando’s head fell back into the pillows, his breath coming faster, louder as he lost himself in the sensations coursing through him. Every touch, every kiss, sent waves of heat through his body, and all he could do was moan, letting Franco guide him.

As the intensity grew, their bodies moved together in perfect synchrony, each movement as a dance of desire. Lando’s moans filled the room, punctuated by Franco’s heavy movements, the sound of their connection echoing between them. They were both completely consumed, the rest of the world forgotten as they lost themselves in each other.

Eventually, the pace slowed, their movements becoming more languid, more intimate. Franco’s lips returned to Lando’s, this time soft and tender, as though savoring the closeness between them. Lando kissed him back just as gently, his hands running through Franco’s hair, pulling him closer.

When they finally pulled apart, both were breathless, their chests heaving as they gazed at each other. The tension had eased, replaced by a soft, quiet intimacy that wrapped around them like a blanket.

Lando smiled, his fingers tracing the line of Franco’s jaw. “That was… incredible.”

Franco chuckled, his eyes softening.

They lay together in silence for a while. Lando’s head rested on Franco’s chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, and Franco’s arm wrapped around Lando, pulling him closer.

It was the kind of quiet moment that made everything else feel insignificant. Just two people, tangled up in each other, finding a kind of peace that neither of them had expected. It wasn’t about the race, or the pressure, or the world outside. It was just them, and that was enough.

[grapehyasynth]

when i picture you

Picture You by Chappell Roan won the poll for this fun fic challenge by @saynomorefic, and that actually slid really easily into place with a little fic idea I'd had a while ago, and so I am almost embarrassed with how quickly I wrote this 🙈

rated M - nsfw - set after s1

Simon’s heart may be broken, and his logical brain may be fully onboard with the break-up with Wille, but his body seems to be determined to not get the message. 

For the fourth time since school let out for their winter break, he wakes up with an erection and a half-dozen fleeting dreams. Dreams of Wille, patched together by the traitorous lizard part of his brain - Wille rowing while wearing a suit; Wille giving a speech to the nation in just his boxers; Wille sucking Simon off on a piano bench, the tie from his school uniform holding back his bangs. 

Simon huffs with frustration and heads for the bathroom. His mom keeps promising they’ll get a door for his bedroom - they’re all a little extra touchy about privacy since the video came out - but it hasn’t happened yet, and there is no way he’ll be able to get himself off when he can hear Sara singing along to the radio in the kitchen, and he doesn’t trust one of them to not just come barging through the towel that shields his room. 

He wastes no time turning on the shower once the bathroom door is locked. For a second he wishes he’d brought his phone, for some music, or inspiration -- but that’s another thing that makes him paranoid now, wondering whether his mom can see his searches on their internet, wondering if someone would try to hack their family, to see what the boy from The Video gets up to. He’s put tape over the camera lenses on his phone and his computer but he just doesn’t really trust anything at this point. 

So, when he sits on the ground with his back to the tub and tugs down his boxers, he has nothing but his own imagination. Which, unfortunately, still very much means Wille. 

He wonders, as he gives himself a first gentle ghost of a stroke, shuffling down a bit so his head is tipped back against the side of the tub and his feet press into the wall (this bathroom, this house, is fucking small), if Wille thinks of Simon when he touches himself. He wonders if there’s a masturbatory version of him haunting the castle. What does Wille picture? He never got to ask him. 

He bites his lip and closes his eyes and goes for one of the disjointed fantasy images from last night. They’d been in the library at Hillerska, and Wille had had Simon pressed against one of the shelves. They were both wearing the white robes from Lucia night, something Simon hadn’t previously clocked as sexy, but he squeezes himself now at the thought, his chest lifting a little with the sensation. His own robe was rucked up to his waist, his knees bent and tight around Wille’s hips so that Wille could fuck into him, pushing him against the shelf behind him with each thrust. Simon grasped a shelf behind him with one hand while the other strove to keep Wille’s own gown out of the way, so that he could see. 

He doesn’t have the time to finger himself, but his ass clenches anyway. They never had that kind of sex, and now Simon is both grateful and aggrieved -- it would be another thing to regret, or mourn, but then again, it already feels like Wille is inside him, irretrievably, all the time, so what would have been the harm? 

He imagines one of Wille’s hands on him, on his cock; a ripple of warmth spreads over his skin as he works himself. He’s losing track of whose hands and arms are where and if they even have enough limbs for this but he doesn’t care. He wants Wille to flatten him like a book he can’t get enough of, to crack his spine, to hold him open as he devours him. He presses a heel to the cleft of Wille’s ass to urge him closer; Wille is panting into his neck; the tub is hard and unforgiving behind Simon’s head but he imagines it’s the shelf supporting him as Wille fucks him. And then, in his imagining, the shelf supporting him keels over, catching the next one which also falls, and now Wille is fucking him on the tilted shelves, and the candles of his Lucia crown (had he been wearing that the whole time?) catch on the books and everything is burning around them, the school is burning to the ground, and Wille gasps I love you with every thrust, and all Simon can say is God Jul, God Jul, God Jul... 

It’s such a ridiculous image that he’s laughing as he comes, the twin sensations tugging deliciously at his core, and he falls sideways so that his cheek is pressed to the bath mat. For a moment, before the high clears, he wishes he could tell Wille about this, that they could laugh about it, that Wille would tease him about the silly fantasy until they realized they were both half-hard-- 

“SIMON!” Sara is rapping on the bathroom door. “I need to pee!” 

“Just a minute,” he grumbles, and he turns the shower, which has been running this whole time, to its coldest setting; he will need the jolt before he can go out there and face his life. 

[redroomreflections]

Hotel California | Track 7 Infamous Lover

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha Romanoff, frontwoman of the punk rock band Velvet Rebellion, falls hard for a woman she believes is too good for her. Their intense relationship unfolds in the chaotic world of rock 'n' roll, where they struggle to balance fame, personal demons, and their undeniable passion for each other.

W/c: 6.5k

Chapter 7/12

Masterlist | General Masterlist

Note: Some things are set into motion in this chapter.

18+ Minors DNI (mature)

Themes: love, fame, sex, drugs

It was an unusual morning for the two of you. Natasha stood in your kitchen, looking more at ease than you felt. Her mug was half-empty, cradled in her hands, while yours sat untouched on the counter before you, its steam curling upward in lazy spirals. The silence was deafening as you tried to process what Natasha told you. Isabella was still asleep in the other room.

Allowing Natasha to stay over had been a line you weren’t ready to cross, but the look on her face last night—the heartbreak she tried so hard to hide—left you with no choice.

You cared about her more than you could put into words, which made this more complicated. You didn’t want to be angry, but the way she’d shown up, raw and vulnerable, with a piece of her past you didn’t know how to navigate, was testing your patience.

Natasha broke the silence first. “I’m sorry for showing up like that. I just... I didn’t know where else to go.”

"Don't apologize for coming to me," You shook your head. You checked the time on the stove clock. 8 am. Neither of you had gotten much sleep. Isabella would be up soon, but she'd have many questions and comments. To feel like you had a handle on the situation, you began to make breakfast. Something simple. French toast and eggs. "It's just, I don't understand why she would call you, of all people."

"I don't hate her..." Natasha began. Then she stopped. Those weren't the right words. She set her mug down and rubbed the back of her neck. “It’s not what you think.”

You paused, spatula hovering over the skillet. Your tone was even when you spoke, and it wasn't as hard as before. "Then explain it to me. Because from where I'm standing, it looks like she still has a hold on you."

Natasha sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “She called me out of nowhere, drunk, stranded... I didn’t want to leave her like that. It sounds stupid, but I felt I had to help.”

“You didn’t have to do anything,” you said firmly. “She’s not your responsibility anymore, Natasha. You don’t owe her anything.”

“I know,” Natasha replied quietly, her eyes dropping to the floor. “But it’s hard. Carol... she was a big part of my life for a long time. Walking away from that hasn’t been easy.”

You softened at her admission, the frustration in your chest giving way to something more tender. “I get that,” you said after a moment. “But you’ve got to figure out what you want, Nat. You can’t keep one foot in the past and expect the future to wait for you.”

She glanced up, green eyes meeting yours, and you were struck by the vulnerability in them. You weren't sure what else to say, but before you could come up with something, Natasha closed the distance between you and gently cupped your cheek. You held your breath as she leaned in, her forehead resting against yours.

"I want you," she whispered, her words feathering against your lips. "I'm trying. I don't want to screw this up. I don't want to screw us up."

"Then don't," You muttered. "If this isn't what you want. If there's even a chance you want her, then you need to be upfront with me. If this is just sex for you..."

"It's not," Natasha said firmly, her eyes flashing with something fierce and protective. "It's never been like that. You know that."

"Do I?" You asked. "I'm trying to be levelheaded. You tell me your ex calls, and you go running."

"Not like that," Natasha sighed.

"You went to her," You pointed out.

"Because she was alone, drunk, and in trouble," Natasha shook her head. "I wouldn't have stayed. I just... wanted to make sure she was okay. That's all."

"Did she try to kiss you?"

"What? No," Natasha snorted, shaking her head. "God, no. She was drunk. Really, really drunk."

"So, nothing happened," you asked.

"Nothing," Natasha nodded.

"Okay," You nodded slowly.

"Okay?"

"Yeah," you said, returning to the stove and plating the food you'd made.

Natasha hesitated, then slid her arms around your waist, pressing her front to your back and resting her chin on your shoulder.

"I'm not going anywhere," she murmured. "I promise."

You hummed, leaning into her warmth. The knot in your stomach loosened, but it didn't completely disappear.

"I trust you," You nodded to yourself. It wasn't something you had to convince yourself to believe. She came to you. She told you the truth.

"That's good," Natasha nodded, a relieved smile gracing her face. She kissed the side of your head and then your neck.

"Mm, what are you doing?" You asked.

"Nothing," Natasha smirked.

"That doesn't feel like nothing," you teased, a hint of a smile on your lips.

Natasha opened her mouth to respond, but a small voice interrupted.

"What are we talking about?" Isabella yawned, shuffling into the kitchen with messy hair and sleep-heavy eyes.

"Nothing," you and Natasha said in unison, the words tumbling too quickly to sound convincing.

"Whatever," Isabella rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed, as she climbed onto one of the kitchen stools. Her gaze shifted to Natasha, and she grinned. "Natasha, you're here."

"Yeah," Natasha nodded, taking a small step back from where she'd been standing close to you. She looked unsure, her hand brushing awkwardly against the counter. You understood the hesitation—it was a delicate situation, having her here when things between the three of you were still so new.

But Isabella didn't seem to share your reservations.

"Good," Isabella chirped, swinging her legs under the stool. "I was wondering when Mama would let you come."

Your cheeks flushed. "Bella," you said, trying to keep your tone even.

"What?" she asked innocently. "I like her. You do, too, right?"

Natasha stifled a chuckle, and you shot her a look.

"Natasha's just visiting," you said, redirecting the conversation.

"Sure," Isabella said with a sly grin, clearly not buying it. She turned her attention to Natasha. "Anyway, Mama, could you do my hair today? In a different style? Something that isn't babyish."

"You are a baby," You pointed out as you slid her a plate of French toast and fresh fruit.

Isabella rolled her eyes again. "I'm almost ten, Mama."

"Still a baby," You stepped around the counter to wrap her in your arms. "My one and only baby."

Isabella squirmed away, giggling. "Mama," she whined. "Stop. You're embarrassing me in front of company."

"Sorry," you apologized, smiling at Natasha, who was watching the scene with amusement. "Old habits die hard. I'll think of something to do to your hair. Eat your breakfast now, and we can walk the dog."

"Yay!" Isabella cheered.

Natasha's hand found yours, her fingers entwining with yours and squeezing lightly.

"We?" Natasha asked softly.

"Yeah," You nodded.

Natasha gave you a soft smile, the kind that reached her eyes and made your knees weak. You were falling for her, and there was no stopping it.

********

A part of you was glad Isabella was talking to Natasha. The other part was concerned. There were still things you needed to talk about that you hadn't figured out yet. And this whole Carol situation last night had left a bad taste in your mouth. You didn't like the idea of her and Carol reconnecting. Not when it meant Natasha was spending time with someone who had hurt her before. Especially when that someone was her ex, especially when that someone was Carol Danvers, you didn't hate the girl. You barely knew her. Simply hearing of her reputation was enough for you.

You didn't want to get too in your head. Not as you were walking with Isabella and Natasha around the neighborhood.

"I'm in intermediate-level gymnastics," Isabella explained to Natasha. She held loosely onto Bear's leash as the dog pulled her over to a random bush. He really was a good walker most of the time.

"That's pretty cool," Natasha grinned, her hand holding yours. "How long have you been doing it?"

"Since I was six," Isabella boasted.

"She's pretty good," You added. "Gymnastics, ballet, and dance. She's the busiest kid I know."

"It's fun," Isabella smiled. "Keeps the mind going and the body healthy. Did you play sports as a kid?"

"I did ballet," Natasha admitted."Yeah, it was a long time ago."

"Did you like it?"

"I did," Natasha nodded. "I was good at it, too."

"Were you any good?" Isabella asked.

"Kind of," Natasha chuckled. "It was a long time ago."

"When did you stop?"

"Well, I didn't quit," Natasha explained. "I got older, and my body changed. The type of moves they have us do can be hard on the body."

"Oh," Isabella nodded, a little less cheerful. "So, did you ever hurt yourself?"

"Not seriously, no," Natasha shrugged.

"That's good," Isabella sighed, relieved. "I hurt myself last year. A twisted ankle."

"Yeah," Natasha nodded.

"I cried because it hurt," Isabella continued.

"Of course, it did," You smiled. "We'd take a break until you were feeling better. Then you were back at it."

"Yeah," Isabella sighed. "Rookie mistakes."

"You could say that," You grinned.

"Are you busy on Wednesday, Natasha?" You could see by the smile in her eyes that Isabella was about to ask her something without your permission.

"Wednesday? What’s on your mind?"

Isabella's face lit up with a mischievous grin, her eyes darting toward you briefly before returning to Natasha. "We have this recital rehearsal, and we get to bring a helper for some of the moves. Can you come?"

You groaned internally, already anticipating how this was going to play out. "Bella, we talked about this. You’re supposed to ask me before inviting someone."

"I know," she said innocently, twirling a strand of her hair. "But Natasha’s really strong. She’d be great for the lifts!"

Natasha glanced at you with a raised eyebrow, clearly amused. "Lifts, huh?"

"It’s true!" Isabella insisted. "And besides, you said you used to dance. You’ll understand better than Mama. No offense," she added quickly, glancing your way.

"None taken," you muttered, trying not to roll your eyes.

Natasha seemed thoughtful for a moment. "When is it? I could probably stop by," she said, looking at you for permission.

"Great!" Isabella cheered, jumping up and down. "It starts at four on Wednesday, and we can pick you up."

"Or you can meet us there," you suggested.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Isabella said, waving her hand dismissively. "Can we go to the park now? Pleeeease?"

"I think we can manage," You said, reaching out and taking Bear's leash. The dog had been patiently waiting during your conversation. You didn't think he'd wander off but didn't want to risk it.

"Yes!" Isabella cheered, throwing her hands up.

"Actually, I have a studio session now," Natasha checked her phone. "I'm pretty late, and Wanda's going to kill me."

"Oh, well, do you want us to walk to the house with you?"

"No, I have my car keys," Natasha denied. "I'll find my way."

"Oh, well, okay," You nodded. Isabella gestured for you to kiss her goodbye. You rolled your eyes at your kid and pulled Natasha down the sidewalk out of earshot. "So, I'll talk to you later?"

"You bet," Natasha nodded. She pressed her lips to yours, giving you a sweet, tender kiss. You leaned into it, savoring the taste of her and the feel of her. You'd never get tired of this.

"Okay," You whispered as you broke the kiss.

"Okay," She smiled, squeezing your hand. "Bye, Isabella."

"Bye, Natasha," Isabella called.

"See you, little one," Natasha smiled, winking at her before leaving.

You watched her walk away, admiring the view. It wasn't until she disappeared around the corner that you rejoined your daughter.

"You're in looove," Isabella teased.

"Maybe," You smirked.

"You should totally marry her," Isabella commented.

"Oh, should I?" You asked. "It hasn't even been that long."

"When you know, you know," Isabella said sagely.

"That's very true," You nodded.

"She makes you happy, right?"

"She does," You agreed.

"And I like her." Isabella listed. "You should totally marry her."

"How about we take things slow, okay?" You chuckled. "Let's see how things go."

"Whatever," Isabella giggled.

"What's with you and this whatever thing?" You wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

Isabella shrugged dramatically, leaning into your side. "It’s just a vibe, Mama. You know, like, whatever happens, happens."

You couldn’t help but laugh at her sass. "I don’t know about you, but you’re too young to drop wisdom like that."

She grinned mischievously. "Maybe, but someone’s got to keep you in check."

You rolled your eyes, smiling as you hugged her tighter. "I think I’m the one who needs to be keeping you in check."

Isabella hummed, content to let you have the last word for now.

The two of you enjoyed the rest of the morning together, laughing and playing and making up silly songs.

******

When Natasha arrived at the studio session, initially, she didn't know what to write. She'd had a list of songs in her black book that she knew she wanted to lay out. But for the last hour, she'd been staring at the blank sheet, her pencil hovering uselessly over the staff.

"Are you writing?" Wanda asked.

"I am," Natasha nodded.

"Then why aren't we recording?"

"Just... a little writer's block," Natasha said.

"Writer's block?" Wanda repeated. "Do you have anything in mind?"

"I do, but..." She shook her head. "I try not to write such personal things. I have a melody and a couple of lyrics in my head, but I don't know if I should do it."

"Becuase you're in a love triangle?" Wanda guessed.

"No, it's not even a love triangle," Nataha shut her book. "It's not even a love anything. Carol is my ex. I blocked her number. Y/n is my now."

"So why the blockage?" Wanda asked.

Natasha paused momentarily, trying to figure out what was holding her back. Her heart told her to write, but her head told her to be smart.

"It's not like I haven't written love songs before," Natasha started.

"But these are about Y/n," Wanda nodded. "And Carol. I get it."

"Carol was a long time ago. What we had... it wasn't good. We didn't end things on good terms. Y/n, on the other hand, is something I want to try. Someone that means something to me."

"Then write about it," Wanda shrugged.

"I just don't know if I should," Natasha said. "Writing a song about Carol? Fine. We weren't happy. But Y/n. She's someone special. If I write about her and it doesn't work out..."

"You can't live your life worried about the what-ifs," Wanda pointed out. "If you want this relationship and're serious about her, then you must be willing to put yourself out there. That's what people do. They take risks. They have faith in one another. It's a leap of faith."

"When did you become a philosopher?" Natasha teased.

"I'm not," Wanda chuckled. "I just think you're overthinking it. Write the damn song, Natasha. Or I will."

Natasha opened her mouth to argue but thought better of it. "Okay, it starts like this..."

"I love her, I want her, but my heart cannot recover,

Stuck in a whirlwind, won’t you get me out?

Fading in and out of what we were before,

But I'm losing me when I keep begging for more."

Natasha sat back, tapping the pen against the notebook's edge as she let the words flow through her mind. Wanda watched her carefully, a knowing smile on her face. Natasha had always been cautious, especially regarding matters of the heart, and Wanda had seen it enough times to recognize the hesitation.

"You know," Wanda began, leaning forward, "that song is pretty powerful already. The emotions are raw. You don't have to have everything figured out right now. Sometimes, you just need to let the music do the talking."

Natasha nodded, eyes still focused on the page, her mind racing with the thoughts of Carol and you of the past and the present. The confusion between what she'd been through and what she now had with you. It wasn't easy, but it felt right.

"You’re right," Natasha finally admitted, her voice softer. "I just... I don't want to mess things up with Y/n. She’s different, Wanda. She’s... real."

Wanda reached over and squeezed her hand, her expression gentle. "I know, and that's a good thing. It's a sign that things are changing for the better. Take it one day at a time, and don't overthink it."

"That's easier said than done," Natasha sighed.

"True," Wanda chuckled. "But I'm always here for you, even if it means reminding you not to be so damn stubborn all the time. Now, let's write some more of this song."

Natasha grinned, picking up the pen and turning back to the page, her fingers already itching to start composing. "You know, I'm glad we decided to work on this project. It's been a long time coming."

"Me too," Wanda smiled, her eyes lighting up. "And hey, we might actually finish something. We recorded three songs with the guys. If we finish this and like it...we might actually be getting somewhere with the album."

"Don't jinx it," Natasha laughed. "But I wouldn't mind recording more. Especially with this."

"Yeah, yeah," Wanda waved her hand. "Let's just get this song finished. Then we can talk about the next one."

"Deal."

As they worked, the two women found themselves in a comfortable rhythm. The back and forth between them was familiar, and they quickly lost track of time. The song began to come together, and Natasha found herself getting more and more excited. This was the kind of music she wanted to be making—deep, soulful, real.

They spent the rest of the day working on the song, taking breaks only to eat or use the bathroom. When they finally called it a day, both women were exhausted but pleased with their progress.

"Okay, now for the next one," she said with a knowing grin.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, wiping her hands on her jeans. "Another one already? You don’t waste any time."

Wanda chuckled. "What can I say? We’re on fire. So, I thought… maybe we should try something different for the next single."

Natasha tilted her head in interest. "Different? How?"

"I’m thinking we stick to the punk vibe, but… I want to experiment with something soulful, a voice that's a little outside of our usual sound." Wanda's eyes sparkled with the excitement of the idea. "I was thinking Y/n could be a good fit for it."

"Y/n? As in, my girlfriend?"

"Yes, and my friend," Wanda nodded.

"You think she could do it?" Natasha asked, her chest warming at the mention of the you.

"Yeah, absolutely. She's got a great voice, and her lyrics are killer. Plus, she's not afraid to be vulnerable. That's the kind of emotion we're going for. What do you think?" Wanda began to pack up her things.

"I think it's a big ask," Natasha said. She sighed, her thoughts racing. "I guess I get the appeal. It’s just… Y/n's got her own sound. I don’t want to pull her into something that’s not authentic to her. Plus, she doesn't sing anymore."

"I get it, and I wouldn't be suggesting it if I didn't think she was right for the song. I've heard her sing before. She's got the range and the passion." Wanda looked at Natasha, her expression serious. "It's worth a shot. Maybe if she hears the song, she'll feel inspired to sing again."

"Maybe," Natasha said, though she wasn't sure. The thought of you singing again filled her with hope, but she didn't want to get her expectations too high. You'd clarified that singing wasn't part of your life anymore. Still, the idea of having you collaborate with them was intriguing. "Okay, I'll bring it up with her. But no promises."

"Fair enough," Wanda nodded. "I'll let you take the lead. Just don't wait too long. I think it could be a game-changer for us."

Natasha gave her a skeptical look. "A game-changer? Isn't that a bit much?"

Wanda shook her head. "Nah, not when it's true. Besides, the world could always use more soulful artists. It's a win-win."

"All right," Natasha relented. "I'll talk to her."

"Great," Wanda smiled. "I'll see you later."

"Bye, Wanda," Natasha said, waving her off. She had a lot to think about.

The question was, where did you stand on all of this?

[aureatescars]

Sasha scoffs when Leon brings up teaching him pickup lines, but he can't hide the amusement crinkling his eyes and lightening his tone as he looks up at him. "Swear words I can do." He says. "But what on earth has you believe I'd be the right person to ask about pickup lines?" He shakes his head but continues down the aisle with the smile persisting in his expression. "I've been in exactly one relationship, and she asked me out."

He stops in his tracks then, wheelchair coming to a halt. He is struck by how easily he said this just now. How easily he is able to talk about her in this moment. Previously, making even the smallest of remarks regarding her did twist a knife in his gutt, had him aching as if bleeding out from an open wound. But reminiscing about the day Irina finally had enough of dropping hints and downright demanded he take her out for dinner is not as painful as it once was. It still hurts to think of her, the grief persists even now and there won't be a day in his life when he won't miss her for the person she was and it's much the same for JD. He'd ever wish things would have turned out different, and he will always feel guilty for dragging him into a fight not his own. bBt Sasha won't let that grief and guilt possess him anymore, he won't let it corrupt him. He's been down that path and it nearly took everything from him.

In fact, the reason he is still here, looking toward the future rather than succumbing to the rage and guilt that swept him up during the war is standing beside him now. Joking about Sasha teaching him his mother tongue one inappropriate word at a time. And somehow that has him smile a little brighter.

Until Leon points out that there is someone staring at them. Sasha turns and immediately recognizes the man. "That's the man we're renting the cabin from." Sasha explains, realizing belatedly that Leon stayed by the car on their day of arrival and Sasha went to pick up the key by himself. Sasha didn't think much of it at the time, but now he wonders if Leon deliberately stayed behind that evening to keep the potential suspicion of the man to a minimum.

Well, there is not much to be done about it now, so to avoid any awkwardness Sasha raises a hand to greet the man standing a ways away from them before he begins wheeling himself over. [Hey there] Comes the gruff but not unfriendly greeting from the older man when they're within earshot and Sasha nods in acknowledgement before returning the greeting.

He gestures at Leon, meaning to introduce the two men to eachother officially. [This is Leon, he's been helping me get settled after... everything.] He avoids the older man's eyes as his brows furrow and his expression morphs into something uncomfortably close to pity. Then he looks up at Leon, while indicating the older man. "This is Mikael."

With introductions out of the way conversation moves on to stilted but overall friendly smalltalk, with Sasha playing intermediary between the other two men.

[You two here to get materials for the construction work you plan to do?] Mikael asks and Sasha shrugs. [Just for the ramps. We're not going to touch the doorframes. We won't go against our word.]

[Listen, I'm sorry, but I really can't just have you up and change the entire thing on a whim.] Mikael says and Sasha shakes his head. [I know. And I'm not holding it against you.]

Mikael looks at the wheelchair and Sasha has to do everything in his power to not squirm under what he perceives to be an almost scrutinizing gaze. [Is it really that hard to move around?]

Sasha presses his lips together, not translating what Mikael just said into English since he is overcome by a wave of shame, memories of the last couple of days coming back to mind. Not least of all the moment in the bathroom and this morning. [I told you. It's not as much moving around as it is the chair not fitting through the doorframes. Leon has to ... he has to help me. Often.] It comes out curt and a little rough around the edges. Sasha knows Leon noticed that the conversation involves him in some way, having heard his name and likely noticed the brief glances Sasha threw his way. But right now he can't bring himself to explain.

It's then that Mikael takes pity on him, trying to stir the conversation away from the heavy topic. [He seems like a good guy. ... For an American.] He crosses his arms infront of his chest. [Tell him thank you from me for taking care of you, and sorry about saying no. Go on. He seems a little lost.]

Sasha blinks up at Mikael, a little startled by the request. It takes him another moment but then he awkwardly shifts in his seat and turns to Leon, who indeed seems a bit confused by the whole exchange. "He says thank you, for taking care of me." Sasha's ears burn while saying so, but he has to agree with the sentiment regardless, which makes it even worse tonsay it out loud. "...And he apologizes for not letting us make changes to the cabin."

"Not that I know off." He answers, wheeling himself towards the entrance of the store, Leon by his side. He's glad that Leon doesn't immediately go to push the wheelchair for him, but rather lets him maneuver on his own unless asked for assistance. Sasha still appreciates Leon opening the door for him without him having to ask for it. It feels almost normal like this. Sasha is happy to not have to pull attention to every little thing that gets in his way and judging from the lack of a pointed look or any verbal indication on Leon's part he didn't even really think about doing it either, as if it comes naturally to him by now to accommodate for Sasha.

An odd feeling of warmth overcomes him, knowing that Leon cares enough to account for things like this by now, although it is also slightly tainted by him wishing that it wasn't like this, that things like closed doors and uneven pathing weren't obstacles to overcome. Sasha pulls himself away from those thoughts, focussing on what Leon is saying instead.

He considers it. "An electric screwdriver, a power drill, nails and screws..." He keeps adding to Leon's list, and Leon chimes in with a few more ideas as well. Measuring tape, a level, "...Some work gloves and protective eyewear, too." Sasha gives Leon a pointed look. "I will not have you injure yourself on my watch."

When they come to a halt in the entryway of the store to orientate themselves Leon brings another thing back to his attention. It's easy to forget when it's just them, but Leon's knowledge of Russian is limited and he's relying entirely on Sasha here, and readily, too as it seems. Somehow that makes Sasha feel a little better about himself, like he is finally doing his part in their little arrangement.

"Of course." He says without hesitation, not entirely unaware of the curious and borderline distrustful glances they're receiving while they keep speaking English. But before they seek out an employee to guide them, Sasha takes stock of their surroundings, reading a few signs which are already helpful enough in directing him where to go. "Tools should be this way. Let's go from there."

As they make their way down the aisle to get to the tools Sasha looks up at Leon. "Do you want me to teach you a few more words and phrases?" Sasha knows Leon has some understanding of his native language. He's heard him greet people and thank the staff at the hospital and the clerk at the gas station at the very least. But Sasha wouldn't mind teaching him at all. In fact, he finds he's quietly hopeful that Leon will agree, although he isn't entirely sure as to why.

[fyeahnix]

Ok lemme talk about this season of Arcane, the ending, and most importantly, Sevika. If you don't want spoilers, back away now but I'm leaving this open because people have a tendency to not open or read my posts with read more cuts after them 🙃

[SPOILERS BELOW]

[SPOILERS BELOW]

[SPOILERS BELOW]

[SPOILERS BELOW]

[SPOILERS BELOW]

First off, I will say that I like Arcane a lot. Like a LOT. I've watched the first season 4 times (rarely do I watch anything more than once) and I think it's a masterclass in adult animation. Fortiche really put everything into this series.

That being said...

While I did like season 2, I don't think it was enough. Animation wise it was phenomenal, writing wise...I think it could have been better. As I've learned through doing research for my Sevika fics, the League of Legends universe, lore, and worldbuilding is fucking MASSIVE and even if I don't give two shits about that community or game, I have to give it props in that department because they really put a ton of work into it to make it feel alive. Maps? Short stories? Timelines? Race and culture? Apex could never...

That ofc is why it's hard for me to say that the writing is amazing. We had far too many characters to keep track of in season 2 with far too many plot threads to finish in two seasons. I think ideally, this series should have been 3 seasons instead of 2. Acts 1 and 2 could have been its own season, and Act 3 could have been its own season. If not that, then at least one more episode per act would have helped a lot. Things just progressed and wrapped up far too quickly for my liking.

Also not a huge fan of how quickly video game related media tends to dip into the whole timeline and multidimensional business. It def works well for some games but here? Idk I guess it was bound to happen given some League character's abilities, but the stakes just elevated far too quickly for me. Not a fan of Viktor becoming one of the main antagonists at all, and DEFINITELY not a fan of the conflict between Piltover and Zaun being sidelined for an "enemy of my enemy is my friend" thing with the war against the Noxians. It makes sense, I just wish "war with the Noxians" came at a later date so we could focus on the twin cities.

And speaking of the generational conflict between Piltover and Zaun, let's talk about Sevika.

As I said before, Sevika is the most qualified person to become the leader of Zaun and I stand by that even after the ending. But first....what about her found family? Isha sacrificed herself and Sevika gets no on-screen reaction? The last two episodes just progressed SOOOO FAST that we and some of the characters didn't even have time to breathe. Did Sevika even get time to mourn for Isha? What about Jinx, who is now gone? Sevika barely even encountered Vander! I would have loved to see some of the aftermath there because I think season 1 did a better job of allowing characters time to process their emotions and grief, even if the pacing was still kinda fast. It was acceptable!

I am sad af she didn't get more lines, but remember, Sevika has always been a side character in this series. An important side character but a side character no less. The promo shot of her now feels like...what was the point? (more on that in a sec) but considering how many characters and plot points and plot threads they had to account for, I am not surprised she didn't get more screen time. Hell, Vi and Caitlyn didn't even get a chance to have a full conversation on eveything that happened and Caitlyn didn't even apologize on screen. The fuck bro.

Now about Sevika's ending....I am very happy she isn't dead. Like dawg, you have no fucking idea how happy I am about it. SHE FUCKING LIVED. But....

I am seeing some people saying they're not happy or they're confused or that her ending doesn't make sense. And I just disagree with those points. Let me explain why.

I posted something earlier today about it, but again, as people don't open my read mores, I'll repost it here:

We absolutely do not know how much time passed between the war and the final few shots of the season. So Sevika joins the council. I DO NOT THINK she would do this unless there's a good reason for it, and that's why I'm guessing she will be Zaun's ambassador on the council. That war probably significantly changed the relationship between Piltover and Zaun and while old wounds will take more than a fucking war to heal, her being on the council now means she directly has a say in Zaun's future. Remember, the council was literally about to hand Zaun their independence before Jinx blew it up, and Mel was in support of it. As I said before, Sevika is respected down there at a bare minimum with all the factions. She would know better than anyone how to lead Zaun at this point. So yeah I get the hesitation, but it makes sense in my eyes. And it makes it likely that Sevika could show up again in a future League animation, if not become a whole champion.

I like her ending. I am sorry but it just makes fucking sense. Sevika is extremely loyal to her home and her people of Zaun. We've seen that time and time again. She was willing to go to war and die for those people not just against Piltover but also the Noxians, so why on fucking earth would anyone believe she's making a bad choice here?

She is now in the best possible position anyone in Zaun could be to advocate for their independence and support their growth. She knows the chem barons and brought them to peace, she gained the respect of the Firelights with Scar leading them in Ekko's absence, and she even got the Jinxers together with them before the Noxian attack on Zaun. Sevika has experience, she has the ear of the people, she knows what it's like down there, she is made to lead and help advocate for them!!!!

Believe me I get that whole "changing things from the inside" angle doesn't work more often than not, but this doesn't feel like "changing from the inside," it feels like "let me advocate for my people's actual independence so we have a starting point to become self sufficient." Again, Piltover was literally about to let Zaun gain their independence, and while none of the previous council members that agreed to it are there, Mel is/was. Who's to say she didn't help negotiate for Sevika to sit on the council and start (or complete!) the Zaun independence process before she left for Noxus? I can't imagine Sevika would just show up to the table and sit there if she didn't have a damn good reason. Like come on now. This woman has seen first-hand what Piltover is capable of and does not like them nor looks like she wants to be there. But she's seen what Piltover has done to her people first-hand, and after learning from both Vander and Silco, this is how she feels she can best protect her people.

She IS the new leader of Zaun and their ambassador at the council.

And lastly, we've been told that some characters will be returning in future League animations. Mel seems like an absolute given, but what about Sevika? Zaun's story is only just beginning, and yeah they said they'd like to branch out to other regions, that doesn't mean a cameo or maybe another medium can't be used to continue that story (a book, perhaps??).

Anyway yeah those are my thoughts...

[mikaila-orchard]

Season two arcane ended now what is your thoughts on Jinx and Vi sister relationship and Ekko character if I miss memory on your arcane video you didn’t talking about him that much that if you want to talk him. P.S sorry is it hard to read my question

I just... I was delulu in thinking things between Jinx and Vi would work out. Act 2 played me like a cheap kazoo.

That weird AU episode suggesting that Vi and Jinx can't find happiness together was so fucking forced. The idea that Vi and Jinx can't be happy while in each other's lives was something Jinx herself should have thought in a depressive episode that Vi should have shut down immediately. That Jinx had to fake her death so that Vi could move on and find happiness with KluKluxKirraman was absolutely fucking stupid.

I admit I've neglected giving Ekko his fair dues (cuz I was always too distracted by Mel and Sevika) but he was a GOAT from day one. He's one of the few characters who always had his head on straight and thought about Zaun first and foremost (like Sevika). That they had to put Ekko into another timeline so he wouldn't find out that Caitlyn gassed Zaun and then became Runeterra Mussolini AFTER feeding him that garbage line about peace is equal parts hilarious and infuriating. That they had to put Ekko and Mel in a box until the third act when the Class Warfare stuff was sidelined so we couldn't see him be rightfully furious at Cait and Vi is painfully centrist. If he found about that shit with the Gray in act one, he and a score of Firelights would have tracked Cait down to that arena Jinx set up and beat her to death themselves and they would have been right to do it.

And what does he (and Mel) get after pulling everyone's asses out of the fire. Nothing. They're left with nothing. Mel loses the last of her family. Ekko loses Jinx to her own self loathing and he loses Vi to Cait.

Fuck this timeline meta excuse. The only thing keeping Vi, Jinx and Ekko from happiness together was fucking Caitlyn.

[skzficstapes]

track 02: ghostin by ariana grande – a sequel to ghost of you

The room was dim, the soft orange glow of the bedside lamp casting long shadows across the walls. You sat up in bed, knees pulled to your chest, gazing out the window at the quiet city streets below. The stillness of the night was only broken by the faint hum of the air conditioning and the rhythmic sound of Jisung’s breathing as he slept beside you.

You had thought it would get easier. You’d thought that time would dull the pain, that the weight of grief would lift and you’d finally be able to truly feel the love that Jisung was offering you. But tonight, like so many nights before, memories of Chan crept in, uninvited, relentless.

You wiped at your cheek, your fingers trembling as more tears began to spill, faster than you could stop them. You kept trying to stay quiet, to keep them from waking Jisung, but your shaky breaths betrayed you.

“Hey,” his voice was soft and groggy, cutting through the dark like a thread. The bed shifted as he sat up beside you, his eyes blurry with sleep. “What’s wrong?”

You quickly turned your face away, your heart hammering in your chest. “Nothing,” you whispered, voice breaking as you tried to suppress the sobs that threatened to break free.

Jisung wasn’t fooled. “You’re crying again,” he said gently, his voice laced with concern. His hand brushed lightly over your arm, his touch warm and grounding in the cold emptiness of your heart. “Talk to me.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted, but your voice cracked on the last word, the lie feeling like acid on your tongue. “Go back to sleep.”

But Jisung didn’t move. He never did when you were like this. Instead, he slid closer to you, his body pressing against yours in the dark, the warmth of his presence steadying your fraying nerves. “I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep but filled with an unspoken promise.

The weight of his kindness, of his understanding, hit you like a tidal wave, and you couldn’t hold it in any longer. The sobs broke free, harsh and jagged, as you buried your face in your hands. “I’m sorry,” you choked out, the words raw and pained, the guilt swallowing you whole.

Jisung said nothing at first. He simply wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. His fingers threaded through your hair, his touch tender, unhurried. He didn’t push you to explain, didn’t ask for more than you could give. He was just there.

“I know it’s hard,” he whispered after a while, his chin resting on top of your head, his breath warm against your scalp. “I know you miss him.”

“I hate this,” you whispered, the words muffled against his shirt. “I hate that I can’t let him go. That I’m still... holding onto him when you’re right here.”

Jisung’s arms tightened around you, a brief, fleeting hesitation before he pressed a soft kiss to your temple. His lips lingered there, the touch gentle but filled with an ache that mirrored your own.

“You don’t have to apologize for how you feel,” he said, his voice steady despite the heaviness of the moment. “I knew what I was getting into.”

“But it’s not fair,” you said, pulling back slightly to meet his eyes. “To you. To us.”

Jisung’s gaze met yours, and in that moment, you saw the raw, unfiltered emotion in his eyes—the hurt, the understanding, and something else. Something deeper. Something you hadn’t let yourself acknowledge before.

“Fair doesn’t matter,” he said quietly. “What matters is that I love you. And I’ll take whatever you’re able to give me, even if it’s not all of you right now.”

His words hit you like a blow, the guilt twisting in your chest, making it hard to breathe. “You deserve more than that,” you whispered, voice barely audible.

Jisung laughed softly, but it was bitter, touched with an emotion you didn’t quite recognize. “You think I don’t know that?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “You think I don’t see how much it hurts you to let me in? How much it hurts me to know I’ll never be him?”

You opened your mouth to say something, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you reached for him, your hand trembling as it brushed against his. The guilt was suffocating, a constant weight on your chest that made it hard to breathe. You had never wanted to hurt him, but you were doing it anyway.

“I’m not saying this to make you feel worse,” he said softly, his tone suddenly tender. “I just... I want you to know that I get it. I know you’re still grieving him. And I know it’s going to take time. But I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you want me to.”

The tears came again, hot and unstoppable, as you reached for him, your hands trembling as you touched his face, desperate to feel the warmth of him. Jisung didn’t hesitate. He met you halfway, cupping your face gently in his hands. His lips found yours, slow and tentative, as if he were afraid you might pull away, that this would somehow break you more than you already were.

But you didn’t pull away. You clung to him instead, letting the kiss deepen, pouring all the gratitude, the apology, the guilt, and the love you felt for him into it. His lips were soft, warm against yours, and for a moment, the shadow of Chan seemed to fade just a little.

When you pulled away, your foreheads rested together, your breaths mingling in the quiet of the room.

“I dream about him sometimes,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “And when I wake up, it feels like I’m losing him all over again.”

Jisung’s eyes closed briefly, his jaw tightening as he held you even closer. “I know,” he said, his voice thick with sorrow. “And it kills me that I can’t make it better for you.”

“You do,” you said quickly, your hands gripping his shirt as if you could ground yourself in the safety of him. “You do, Jisung. You’re the only reason I’m still standing.”

His eyes opened, and there was a mix of hope and pain in them. “Then let me keep standing with you,” he said quietly. “Let me help you carry this, even if it’s heavy. Even if it hurts.”

You nodded, tears streaming down your face as you buried your face in his chest. His arms wrapped around you again, pulling you close, and for the first time in weeks, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe—just maybe—you could find a way to hold onto the past without losing the present.

“I love you,” Jisung whispered, his voice breaking just enough for you to feel the weight of his words.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, the truth of it settling into your chest like a bittersweet ache.

It wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t what either of you had imagined for your future. But for now, it was enough.

And for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, someday, it would be enough to heal.

[nexus-nebulae]

trying to sort our simplyplural but there's enough of us that we need to use smthn like a spreadsheet to do that. but also. how tf do we sort source categories when we have so many multifictives

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

At The Feet Of The Sun

book 2 in a slow paced high fantasy duology*

the right hand of the emperor (who is off searching for an heir) struggles with what to do after passing on his responsibilities and also discovering various pieces of information that are mindblowing to him, personally,

after adventure is thrust upon him, he travels to find His Radiancy and they go on some otherworldly adventures while growing closer and figuring out the nature of their friendship

(*there’s extra novellas & i think another book coming? duology adjacent, currently,)

[sysig]

You’re gonna die if you keep that up (Patreon)

[ajdrawshq]

love this animal. the saffron

[magnetoapologist]

low-key pisses me off that ppl are so resistant to Joe and Nicky having bigger interpersonal issues sometimes and often justify it with "they would have solved these hurdles far longer ago" like things and feelings and also the world around them can't change??? like the only conflict in a story about them is allowed to be external forces acting upon them? sometimes I think you guys don't even want a story

[fmhobeus]

so, nerdy loser college boy choso *sighs* *opens legs*

a/n: just so you know, this man is gonna make you do all the hard work for a piece of that loser boy dick 😮‍💨 so... um so at some point around 2000 words in i realised this is way more than a hc post :3 eat it up if you will!

nerdy!choso who borderline has no friends except his gaming buddies who doesnt meet irl like ever. he doesnt like going to classes, especially this one. he doesnt need it but it's a requirement for all first years. and boy is glad it is when he sees you come in.

nerdy!choso who only listens to discussions when you're talking. suddenly he needs to put down his headphones and nod at every word you're saying. his eyes follow every gesture of your hand, every sway of your ass, every single time you fix your hair.

nerdy!choso who is starting to get a bit enamored with you, your style, your way of speaking. he loses track of time gawking at you in class from the last benches as you prettily do all the work in the class. he hates how beautifully your hair falls on your face, how nicely your clothes fit you despite being pretty modest for college. he hates how he can see the silhouette of your tits when you turn to the side. but he's too much of a gentleman to keep looking.

nerdy!choso who ends a game early when he remembers you, lying and saying that he had promised someone to meet them somewhere. the place is his bathroom and the person was you. god, you really shouldn't wear those tight jeans to class y'know? how will he continue to be a gentleman if you do?

nerdy!choso who despises groupwork but prays to dear god this class has some reason to pair you two together. he's getting so desperate to talk to you knowing damn well he too pussy to do it on his own. and the lord answers his prayers, the teacher assigns groups of three for a presentation. it's you, him and some slacking trust fund baby.

nerdy!choso who is about to combust and have a full blown panic attack when he sees you approach him after class with that smile on your face that would make the angels swoon. you're going on about distributing the work equally and what not while he is trying his fucking hardest to not accidently make eye contact with you and piss his pants : (

nerdy!choso who now has your name, your number and your email and he feels like the happiest man on earth. his hands are literally shaking as he responds to your request to call. he's overthinking every word he types.

choso: yeah i can do wednesday. choso: i'll be okay with whatever day you want.

nerdy!choso who hops on video call and short circuits with a view of you in an oversized band tee and a brief view of your room. why did you have to be this pretty? why did you have to video call him when you couldve done the work on text? why did you have to put your hair up like that? why oh why did you have you say "choso? hey, you there?" so seductively to bring him back to the present?

nerdy!choso who gets like no work done in a 30 minute call which felt like three hours. he knew he would hardly be paying attention so decided to record the call with your consent, saying he'd need the notes you were typing out on screen only to play it back and stroke his dick to you for what might've have been the twentieth time this week. his strokes only getting faster as you say his name in that voice he imagines sounds way better moaning and screaming it instead.

nerdy!choso who, after the presentation, is on greeting terms with you when he sees you studying in the library. he sits as far away from you as he can while still being able to see you. occupying the coziest corner of the library to stare at you study right when you come up to him.

"can i join you, choso? i'm all alone and your space seems comfy" you say with a smile, "of course, i dont mean to disturb you, is saw you were on your own too, so..."

uh oh, uh oh, uh oh. god no. please no. please dont say yes. please dont be staring at her like some dumb idiot (too late) please.

"uh... yeah sure why not?" he awkwardly says as he makes room for you to keep your things. he was such an idiot for thinking he could say no to your pretty face in the first place.

nerdy!choso who is absolutely drunk on your scent. it feels way better than any alcohol he's ever had. he feels like an animal in heat when he smells your sugary perfume mixed with the styrofoam-y air conditioned smell of the library. you're gonna kill him, yknow? how is he supposed to respond to this? what is one to do when their stupid college crush sits next to them? he gives you a half smile before furiously typing away on reddit, the only place with answers for losers like him.

nerdy!choso whose hands. oh his hands. (can be i a big whore for a second?) his long hands that feel like they're the size of your face. his kempt, beautiful and trimmed nails. his lengthy fingers that seem to yearn for something more to foddle with than just the keyboard or controller. he typed as such an insane pace it made your pussy ache. he was going so fast, jesus. those hands were meant to do more than just ask "how to talk to girls" on reddit.

nerdy!choso who (on the advice of reddit) asks if you would want him to order something for you. you tell you had a frappuccino not too long ago and that it was quite sweet and filling. and he hates himself for thinking that he could give you something much sweeter and filling than that like a horny fourteen year old.

nerdy!choso who is now determined to not come off as a creep so he does his work with the focus of four adderalls. he is typing as fast as his heartbeat, not realising he got two classes worth of work done in just an hour. he looks over at you, blissfully unaware of the absolute war in his mind.

nerdy!choso who feels as though if he doesn't muster up the courage to ask you out right then and there, he'll probably be the biggest loser on the planet. (as if he wasn't already)

nerdy! pathetic! choso who stutters a million times and barely gets the job done then too. his eyes are scanning your entire being (trying his best to not gawk at your tits) for any sign of discomfort.

"so- uhh so ummm... wo-would you, like, uh... like to do this again? sometime?... i got a.. a lot of work done today, so.."

oh heavens, the sheer nervousness in his tone makes you want to pull his pants down and show him how to really get work done.

you agree with a smile, even suggesting a better, more ambient (more romantic) cafe to study in. choso's heart is about to burst and flood the fucking library with his blood the way it is beating at an alarming rate.

"umm yeah uh 5 sounds... awesome... i hope it isn't a-a bother to you?" "no way, choso. i loved today," you offer him a smile as you gather your things, "i really like your hair, by the way" "i like your hair too, y-y-you smell very nice", he gulps.

fuck. why did he say that? what? you smell nice? who says that? is he like ten? you can't help but giggle at the sheer embarassment on his face.

he feels as though he's gonna melt into a puddle and turn to stone and throw up all at the same time.

nerdy!choso who is the most stupidly hot guy you've ever met, you think as you go giggling back to your dorm. mental note: pick a skimpy outfit for 5pm ;)

[iiiiiiis-things]

idk just thinking about how you burst into your home damn near slamming the door shut, only for toji to stop it with the large palm of his hand before he smoothly walks in behind you. you're on 10 right now, stomping and shouting around the house (while your husband follows like a lost puppy) until you make your way to the kitchen yelling something about how it was "totally unnecessary to punch him" honestly toji didn't even know what the hell you were going on about, i mean he wasn't even listening. he silently convinced himself that it wasn't his fault- no it was definitely yours that he couldn't focus on the sweetness of your voice. i mean he just couldn't stop himself from trailing his eyes down to your ass, sinfully watching from his stance at the doorway as it jiggled with each hard step you took. "you can't keep doing this shit man-" your words go in one ear and out the other, again wasn't his fault, he can't help but think about is how fucking sexy you look right now. lace tussled into a slight mess, lip gloss smeared across your puffy lips because of how much you opened your fat ass mouth out of anger, and that dress ? oh that dress is what gotten you in the situation in the first place, the way it hugged your frame perfectly, mapping out each of your curves in all the right ways. had you not wore it like he told you to he wouldn't have had to beat his boss ass for staring at you a little to long. lashes that had been ripped off are still in his car, sitting prettily right on his dashboard, he couldn't care less in fact he was glad you took em off ecstatic even, toji loved to see you natural, toji thought you were so god damn fine

"what ?"

...did he say that out loud ?

"nothin'" he muffled out "are you even listening? see this the shit i'm talking about-"

toji wanted nothing more than to bend you over the kitchen island and shut your big ass mouth with each deep stroke he gave you, dick hitting deep in that gummy area that always turned you into mush whenever he found it, but alas he didn't, he knew you were angry, just didn't know why. aren't you glad he protected you from the preying eyes of his boss ? did it cost him his job ? maybe.. but it doesn't matter because it was all for you, his lovely wife. "here asshole" toji finally snapped out of his head when he felt you shove something against his chest before walking off. noodles ... you made him-

"a cup of noodles ?" he questioned following you out the kitchen "you didn't eat at the party." the scar on his pretty lips decided to rise. oh how sweet you were, even after being so pissed at his possessiveness you still cared enough to make sure he ate before the night was over but there was still one problem.. "you didn't either" "i'm not hungry." once you reach the bottom of the stairs he stops dead in his tracks "baby- where you going ?" "to bed." no hug ? no kiss goodnight ? no invite ? oh he fucked up.

smut! under the cut (18+)

"now do you forgive me?" voice comes muffled from beneath you as you ride out your nth climax of the night your husband had been sucking and licking into you for hours drawing out orgasm after orgasm. and shit were you ovulating? because you just can't get enough. "fuck" you roll you head back in pleasure riding the sweet sensation of his nose repeatedly brushing against your clit

*smack!*

"i asked you a question mama" you moan loudly at the combination of the nickname and his tongue thrusting in and out of you hitting that special spot each time. "y-yes baby" you grind down to match the rhythm of his tongue as he begins to play with the fat of your ass tugging and gripping tightly, encouraging you to move your hips faster "'m sorry baby, so so sorry" his lips wrap around your rednend clit while he stuffs two fingers into you. at this point you were so overstimulated but you just couldn't stop riding his face even if the world was ending. bringing a hand to his hair you push it back unveiling those gorgeous green eyes. toji looks up making eye contact with you, you begin feeling the tension that was building up about to finally burst (again) "i didn't mean to upset you" he wraps his fore arms around your things getting you to grind down even harder against his perfectly fat nose "i-it's okay toj- fuck you're so deep" "i just don't like when other boys stare at you" he couldn't even bring himself to call his boss a man. a man would never violate a women's privacy like that, basically eye fucking her while she's out with her man. you felt everything, every touch, and god you were so hot, moans were leaving your mouth left and right as you felt him continue sucking, his fingers thrusting into you so desperately as if they were asking for forgiveness too.

this was gonna be a longggg night .