#life unexpected verse

[this-world-of-beautiful-monsters]

I know this is literally a dream sequence, but come the fuck ON with Sean kissing a boy being "unexpected," Esteban. Your son is the twinkiest twink that ever twinked and you fucking know it.

[tanoraqui]

“Son of Man” from Tarzan but it’s the people of Gondolin fondly singing to Eärendil as he runs around the city like the hyperactive, has-only-known-peace preschooler he is

[voxiiferous]

**| I have no shortage of AUs I enjoy for Vox, and yet the one I probably enjoy the most is the single dad AU.

“I can fix him!” No you can’t, but sudden responsibility for a small child honestly can, to everyone’s surprise, including his own!

[dragonofthestone]

In any verse Tim knows he's lucky being surrounded by so many supportive and loving people in his life, that unless it causes a legitimate and or significant risk to himself no one is telling him not to do something because of his disability- even helping him to find ways to navigate and make things work out.

He understands that he's not lesser because of it but even he still has moments now and then of questioning.

Should he do something, is X a good idea, when meeting someone new has a bit of caution not knowing how they'll react (and hoping they won't treat him different / be weird)

As well as being aware that he does have his limits, there are things he can't do.

Mostly in regard to his vision but arguably also applies with his chronic pain as well as the more psychological elements.

---

Perhaps more so relevant / leaning toward with Lab!life , Wonderland Tim. Learning to navigate the world and find his limits, learning its okay to ask for help or even say no.

I think for a short time anyway a small part of him might question, upon his growing fascination with knights n stuff. Can one still be a knight if he can't see (partially anyway in his case) After all he knows it makes him more vulnerable. None of the knights in stories are ever injured - Now he wouldn't fully believe that it's something he can't do at all but it certainly makes him think and wonder and ask.

Cause sure there might be all the typical training but some of it would need to be specialized / altered in away that works for him

[blessthisbrckenroad]

Tag Dump

[liliacamethyst]

Web of Secrets - Miguel O'Hara 

Miguel O'Hara x SpiderSun Reader

words: 3.7K

warnings: secret pregnancy trope, swearing, angst, heartbreak, grumpy/sunshine, smut

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

In your universe, you are known as the Sun Spider. It all started on a school field trip to a solar energy research center, where you were accidentally exposed to a spider that had been subjected to intense solar radiation. You woke up with a white-hot surge of power, and your life changed forever. You donned a suit of pure white, taking the name that reflected both your newfound abilities and the brightness you brought into the world: Spider-Sun.

Your ability to harness solar energy and transform it into powerful blasts or create protective shields made you a formidable superhero in your home city, Nea Yorkey. Your ability to bring light to even the darkest corners of your city earned you the love of its citizens.

However, everything changed when you were suddenly pulled into the Spider-Verse.

Upon arriving, you were greeted by the gruff leader of this interdimensional team of Spider-People, Miguel O'Hara. His reputation preceded him - the genius intellect, the imposing figure, the gruff demeanor. Everyone respected him, and some even feared him. You, on the other hand, were drawn to him. There was something about that guarded demeanor that called to your own sunny nature.

You became an integral part of the team, fighting off anomalies and working hard to maintain the balance in the Spider-Verse. And despite Miguel's stern exterior, you felt yourself falling for him.

One mission was particularly rough, and you found yourself alone with Miguel in a safe house, nursing your wounds. His usually stern face softened as he tended to your injuries. The distance that he usually maintained was nowhere to be seen.

"Thank you, Miguel," you whispered.

He looked at you, his usually hard eyes soft. "You fought well, mi sol."

There was a moment of silence, a strange tension hanging in the air. Then, Miguel leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was filled with unexpected passion.

In that moment, you were not the Sun Spider, and he was not the Spider-Man 2099. You were just two people, seeking solace in each other.

Afterwards, as you laid side by side, Miguel turned to you, a serious look on his face. "This...this can't be more than what it is. Just...you know, stress relief," he muttered, his voice just above a whisper.

His words wounded you. Naturally, they did. He had reduced your relationship to mere stress relief, as if you were some object devoid of feelings. Yet, in spite of it all, you fell for him. Perhaps you were naive, even foolish, but you didn't care. You yearned for him and were ready to accept any fraction of affection he was willing to offer, no matter how small.

During the day, as you fought alongside him against the anomalies threatening the Spider-Verse, his attention toward you was sparse. He mostly shared only necessary information, barely making eye contact. Sometimes he didn't speak at all, and you and the rest of the team would receive mission orders and briefings from Lyla, his AI assistant.

But at night, when the two of you were alone, he became a different person. He'd whisper praises into your ear, telling you how exceptionally you fought, how much he desired you. He showed you his hidden vulnerability under the cover of darkness, the sheets their only witness. He'd gently stroke your hair and peppered your jaw and temple with kisses until you fell asleep, only for you to wake up the next morning to an empty, cold spot where he once lay.

This cycle - his coldness by day, and the fervor by night - repeated itself relentlessly for months.

And so, this is how you find yourself: disoriented, frenzied, and on the verge of tears, seated on the couch of your best friend, Peter B. Parker, in Earth-616. Cradled in your arms is his sweet daughter, Mayday, who, with her innocent touch, tries to console you. Yet her wide eyes dart anxiously to her father, reflecting her own alarm at your distress.

Peter rubs his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe we should wait until MJ gets home?" he suggests, then, with a furrowed brow, he asks, “Have you tried talking to Jess about this?”

You shake your head vigorously. "No, I haven't told anyone. I have no idea what to do," you confess, your voice breaking.

Peter, ever the caring friend, gently takes Mayday from your arms and sets her down. He turns back to face you with a sympathetic gaze. “Do you..eh.. know who the father is?” he inquires softly.

You shake your head again, even though deep down, you know the truth. “The father is out of the picture. He doesn’t know, and he never will because he doesn’t want kids,” you whisper, fighting back tears.

As you and Peter sit down on the couch in his cozy living room, you find a sense of comfort being around him. His experience as both a superhero and a parent seems like it could be a beacon in this storm you're facing. The room is quiet, save for the soft ticking of a clock on the wall.

“You know, Peter,” you begin, your voice almost a whisper. “I’m terrified. What if the baby has powers? How am I going to protect them, especially if...if I can’t stop fighting anomalies?”

Peter looks thoughtful. “That’s a valid concern. First, you should know that you don’t have to do this alone. There’s a whole community of us, and we stick together. If the child does have powers, she or he will be badass like Mayday, right?”

You nod slowly but then anxieties pile on top of each other in your mind. “But... how can I hide this? Nobody and I mean nobody is supposed to know that I’m pregnant. Especially not...” You trail off, not finishing the sentence.

Peter rubs his chin, deep in thought. “We could look into modifying your suit, maybe talk to some tech geniuses in the Spider-Verse about creating something that can shield or conceal the pregnancy.”

You roll your eyes. “That kinda defies the ‘nobody is allowed to know ‘ordeal, Peter. You have to promise me that this stays between us.”

“I promise,” Peter says sincerely.

Silence fills the room again, and then you voice another fear. “Peter, what if...what if I’m not a good mother? What if I mess this up?”

Peter smiles warmly. “You know, I had those same fears when Mayday was born. I think it’s normal for any parent. But, take it from me, the fact that you’re worried about being a good parent means you’re already on the right track. You’ve got a good heart. Trust it.”

You look down at your hands, fingers interlaced. “Thank you, Peter. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out,” he says with a reassuring smile. “We’re family, in this weird, Spider-Verse kind of way. But maybe… and I am sayig this as a father myself… reconsider telling the father. I can’t imagine any guy wanting to give up this.” He says, pointing to his precious daughter playing with a napkin she found on the floor.

"Maybe you should reconsider telling the father," Peter's words are echoing in your mind like a haunting melody. A part of you yearns for that possibility. Perhaps you're not alone in this. Maybe, just maybe, Miguel wants this as much as you do.With newfound resolve, you set off for the Spider-Verse headquarters, expecting to find Miguel tucked away in his office, immersed in maintaining the spider verse or as he calls it "arachno- something-multiverse-thingy” or something similar to that.

Upon reaching his office door, you pound on it sharply. No response. Frowning, you knock again, a little harder this time. When silence continues to greet you, you slowly turn the doorknob and peek inside. There he is, hunched over his desk, lost in a world of numbers and codes.

"Miguel, I-" you start, but his sharp voice cuts you off.

"No," he interrupts, his tone cold. "Did I say you can come in? Dios mio, why are you always so damn clingy?"

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. You stare at him, taken aback by his blatant disregard for your feelings. You can feel the beginnings of tears prick at the corner of your eyes, but you will them away.

He doesn't mean it, he doesn't mean it like that. This mantra plays over and over in your head, like a broken record. You take a deep breath, forcing down the hurt his words cause.

"Look, Miguel," you begin, struggling to keep your voice steady. "There’s something we need to talk about, and I think it's important for you to listen to me."

“Fucking hell, woman! What exactly don’t you understand. I’m busy. I don’t care about your little problems, right now.” he barks, not even looking up.

“Miguel,” you speak up, forcing the words out through clenched teeth, “ I’ve never asked anything from you. Not once have did I ask you to stay, to feel the same I feel, to fucking talk to me when people are around. Please all I am asking you is to just ... listen to me, fpr once.” Your voice grows stronger as you speak, a determined fire igniting within you.

Miguel finally looks up, his eyes meeting yours. For a moment, he seems taken aback by the resolve he saw there.

He rubs his temples. “Can we do this later?”

“No!” you shout. “It’s always later with you. You’re like...like a ghost. Just a figure in the hallway. I don’t need a figure, I need a person! I need someone who listens when...”

He glares at you, his eyes narrowing. “Okay, okay I will listen just not now. Whatever it is, it can wait.”

“No, it can’t,” you retort, your voice shaking a bit. “Why is it that every time I try to talk to you, you just brush me off? Am I that insignificant to you?”

He stands up abruptly, the chair skidding behind him. “This? This is what you want to talk about?” he says with a tone of annoyance. “Look, I have a million things to deal with and-”

“And what? And I’m not one of them? Just five minutes, Miguel! That’s all I ask!”

The room is tense. Your heart is racing. His eyes are fiery. It's a standoff.

“And what is so important that you have to disrupt everything right now?” he challenges.

Your breath catches in your throat. This is it. You're about to say it.

“I...” you stammer. “I need to tell you that...”

Suddenly, the door to the office swings open and Jess storms in.

“Miguel, we have a major issue in Sector 12! The anomalies...” she starts, then catches sight of your tear-streaked face. “Oh, am I interrupting something?”

Miguel seems to shake off the tension and slips back into commander mode. “No nothing important. What’s happening in Sector 12?”

You can't believe it. Just like that, he turns away. It feels like your heart is being squeezed.

Jess starts rattling off data and scenarios. The two of them are talking, but you don’t hear it anymore. All you can think of is how you almost told him. How you just wanted five minutes.

Your hands shake and you quietly step out of the room. The door closes behind you, and it feels like a chapter that you can’t read has been sealed away.

The next day you are on Earth-8311, an anthropomorphic animal-dominated universe. It's the home of Peter Porker, the Spectacular Spider-Ham, and you can't help but find it amusing.

The mission: to transport an anomaly, which resembles an enormous floating jellyfish, back to its home universe. It's been pure chaos here, and you are determined to set things right.

The team: Gwen, Hobie, and Peter B. Parker. You're all in your suits, eyes sharp, and webs at the ready.

"Alright, Spiders. Let's round this jelly up and send it home," Peter B. Parker takes charge, shooting a web towards a nearby building.

You swing alongside him, your thoughts a whirlwind. The world around you blurs - the animal citizens, the bustling cityscape, the strange yet familiar surroundings.

The anomaly appears before you, thrashing and pulsating as it floats through the sky. It releases blasts of energy that ripple through the air.

"Watch out, Sunny!" Gwen calls out as she dodges a blast.

You, however, are a split second too late. Your reflexes are off, your movements sluggish. The blast sends you spiraling towards the ground.

Hobie swings in and catches you mid-air, his guitar strapped on his back. “Get it together, Sun!” he shouts over the noise, his punk-styled hair waving wildly.

You shake off your daze and look up to see Peter B. Parker shooting webs to pull the anomaly back down, while Gwen is deploying a device to open a portal back to its home universe.

Your heart races as you focus on the task at hand. You need to get this right, not just for yourself, but for the life you’re now carrying. Your suit seems to glow even brighter in the chaos.

With a final combined effort, you manage to lasso the anomaly and push it through the portal. The anomaly disappears, and the portal closes behind it.

The team regroups on a rooftop. Gwen is catching her breath, Hobie is tuning his guitar, and Peter B. Parker gives you a concerned look.

“Are you okay?” Gwen asks, her voice laced with worry. “You weren’t yourself up there.”

The weight of the secret you’re carrying feels unbearable. But you're not ready to share it.

“Promise me you won’t tell Miguel about this,” you say, your voice barely audible.

Gwen raises an eyebrow, while Hobie crosses his arms. Peter B. Parker simply nods.

“Nah, Bossman doesn’t need to know about this,” Hobie says, and there’s a firmness in his voice that is strangely comforting.

Back in the HQ, your head spins, and your stomach feels like it's doing somersaults. You mumble a quick excuse about feeling nauseous and practically sprint to the nearest restroom.

Meanwhile, Gwen, Hobie, and Peter B. Parker head to the cafeteria to grab something to eat.

As they sit down at a table with their trays, Gwen breaks the silence. “Is it okay if I say that this mission was kind of easy? Like, I’ve seen Sunny take down Doc Ock from Earth-818, and she did that without any problem. So what was that today?” Gwen’s concern is apparent.

Hobie, munching on a sandwich, nods in agreement. "Yeah, it's like her spidey senses were jammed or somethin'. Never seen her like that before."

Peter B. Parker looks thoughtfully at his sandwich, then glances up at Gwen and Hobie. He’s torn, having promised you to keep your secret but also wanting your friends to understand why you were off your game.

"You guys remember when she fought Morlun on Earth-001? She was a totally smashin’ it, and today, she nearly got turned into spider-paste by a floating jellyfish. That ain’t right," Hobie adds.

Gwen’s eyes suddenly widen. "Oh my God! Do you think she’s in trouble? Like, something from her universe? Or maybe she's having an identity crisis! Should we stage an intervention?"

Peter B. Parker clears his throat. “Maybe she’s just having an off day.”

Gwen’s eyes narrow as she scrutinizes Peter. “You know something, don’t you?”

Peter scratches the back of his head, obviously uncomfortable. “Nope, no idea.”

Hobie puts down his sandwich and leans in. "Oi, mate. Spill your guts. There's something dodgy going on. She's always been our burst of sunshine, lifting the mood. But now she's... dimmed. What's going on with our Sunny, Parker?"

Before Peter B. Parker could answer Gwen’s barrage of questions, Jess - Spider-Woman - appears, her belly showing. She takes a seat at the table and, oblivious to the serious conversation that was taking place, asks them about their latest mission.

"So, how did your mission go?" Jessica asks, while munching on her Burger.

"Nothing to report, Jess," Gwen answers, a little too quickly, her face all sunshine and false smiles. Peter simply nod in agreement.

“Yah, all good!” Hobie chimes in, flashing a grin that seems a little too bright.

“How about you? How are you holding up?” Peter asks Jess, trying to steer the conversation away from the mission.

Jessica shrugs, not overly concerned, and bites into her burger. "'M good. You know,  I'm so glad I can finally eat a burger again. At the beginning of my pregnancy, practically every food made me nauseous, especially after swinging around on missions.”

Suddenly, there's a moment of collective realization among Gwen, Hobie. It’s as if their spider senses are tingling in unison. They exchange knowing looks, all of them silently putting the pieces together.

Gwen’s eyes are wide, Hobie’s eyebrows are raised, and they both turn to look at Peter, who simply nods.

Jess, noticing the silent exchange, squints at them. “What is up with you guys? You’re acting weird. Well, weirder than usual.”

“Uh, nothin’!” Hobie says, a little too quickly.

“Yeah, just tired from the mission,” Gwen adds, trying to play it cool.

Jess rolls her eyes and stands up. “Alright, weirdos. I’m gonna go find some normal people to talk to,” she says jokingly and walks away.

After she leaves, the trio leans in.

“Sunny’s pregnant, isn’t she?” Gwen whispers.

Hobie's eyes are as wide as saucers. “That would explain everything!”

Peter B. Parker nods. “We need to be there for her, but remember, it’s her news to share when she’s ready.”

They make a pact to support you without pushing you to reveal anything before you're ready.

As you walk back into the cafeteria, you find your friends huddled together. They break apart when they see you and welcome you back with smiles and light conversation, but something in their demeanor is different but you can’t put your finger on it. They are being more attentive, considerate, and frankly, a little too curious about your well-being.

"Are you sure you're okay, Sunny?" Gwen asks for the third time since you sat down. Her concern is genuine, but her intensity is slightly off-putting.

"Yeah, do you need anything?" Hobie offers, his eyes gleaming with unspoken curiosity. "Food, drink, or maybe... pickles?" Pickles? Thats oddly specific.

There's a burst of laughter from Gwen, and even Peter is suppressing a chuckle.

"What's up with the pickles?" You ask, looking at them suspiciously.

"Oh, nothing!" Gwen says, a little too quickly, trying to hold back her laughter.

"Hmm, pickles and ice cream, a weird combo, innit?" Hobie wonders aloud, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

Again, there's suppressed laughter, and you look at each of them, a realization slowly dawning on you. You turn to Peter, your gaze steady and serious. "You told them, didn't you?" Peter looks shocked, but quickly composes himself. "I didn't exactly tell them, per se," he confesses, "I might've confirmed their suspicions when they asked, but they figured it out on their own. Spider senses and all that jazz.”

Before you could respond, Gwen and Hobie jump in, both talking over each other in an attempt to apologize.

"We're sorry, Sunny," Gwen says sincerely. "We didn't mean to invade your privacy, it's just that... we're worried about you. Please don’t be mad."

Hobie nods, adding, "And we're right behind ya, whatever comes our way. We've got your back, no doubt about it."

You are happy, while the situation isn't ideal, but at least you're not alone. You have friends who care about you and, despite their unconventional way of showing it, they are there for you. You smile, comforted by their concern, and grateful for their support.

"Yeah," you finally say, "I guess we’re gonna need a lot more pickles and ice cream around here, huh?"

“Sooo...who’s the dad? Is he hot?” Gwen, leaning on the table with her elbows, asks shyly after a while.

You let out a long sigh, “He’s very hot... but also a colossal jerk.”

Peter raises an eyebrow. “You took my advice and talked to him then?”

You shake your head, your eyes starting to well up. “No, I tried. But he wouldn’t listen to me. He was busy, and I guess I wasn’t important enough. So, the baby won’t be either,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Hobie's eyes narrow, and his face is flushed with anger. "Who's this bloke, eh? I swear on me nan's grave, I'll give him a right proper earful! No one treats our Sunny like a tosser and gets away with it!"

Gwen jumps in, her eyes wide with speculation, “Wait, is he a Spider? Is it Peter? Or the other Peter? Or—”

“Guys, guys!” you cut them off, your voice cracking. “Please, it doesn’t matter. He made it clear where I stand, and it’s not with him.”

There’s a silence that settles over the table as your friends look at each other and then back to you. Their faces are a mix of concern, sadness, and frustration.

Peter B. is the first to break the silence. “You don’t have to go through this alone. You’ve got us. If the dad doesn’t want to step up, then he’s missing out on something amazing.”

Gwen nods, her eyes firm with resolve. “Yeah, we’re family. We’ve got your back, no matter what.”

Hobie, still fuming, finally calms down enough to say, "All you gotta do is whistle, love, and we'll be there in a blink. Even if it means thumping some manners into this mystery idiot."

You can't help but crack a small smile, despite the tears. You’re overwhelmed by the love and support your friends are giving you.

“Thanks, guys. You don't know how much this means to me.” 

They all reach out and there’s a group hug right in the middle of the cafeteria. You didn’t know how much you needed this until it happened.

Part 2 “Webs of Fate”

a/n: Thank you guys for all your love on this fic so far.I really appreciate each like, comment, reblog <3. I still can’t reply to your comments so please if you want to tagged (and are not already) comment on part 2 and I’ll do my best and add you.Also I am open to requests, critic and wishes. Have a wonderful day. xx

[wooziorgans]

How will ji take care of his pregnant female wife ll pregnant male omega hubby

pregnancy w jihoon

…. i am not an omega verse kind of guy so this is just how jihoon takes care of his pregnant partner. w some texts bcs yeah.

warnings: childbirth. suggestive. pregnancy. all that fun stuff. dilf jihoon. girl dad jihoon.

definitely super overwhelmed the SECOND you find out your expecting but so so sooo happy and excited to start a family with you.

it was definitely unexpected.

after your honeymoon, you started to feel a bit sick, and jihoon just thought it was the food not sitting well with you, or the different germs from traveling catching up. but then you were late and the hot flashes started and you had a suspicion.

while he was at work, you went to the store and bought one of each kind of pregnancy test, just to make sure. all of them came back positive.

when jihoon gets home, he finds you curled up on the couch with a mountain of blankets, which isn’t unusual.

but then he sees tear tracks on your face and he’s immediately worried. he sits beside you and you reach for his hand, but he sees you smiling softly and then it’s just pure confusion.

“baby, what’s going on? you were crying. are you okay?” he wipes at your the remnants of your tears with his thumbs. his brows are furrowed and he looks so worried about you that it makes you suddenly super emotional. god damn hormones.

“ji, i’m pregnant.” is all you say to him, and he feels like he’s going to pass out.

he starts crying almost instantaneously, and the tears don’t stop for a good ten minutes.

you haven’t seen him this choked up since he read his vows at your wedding, and this might be worse in terms of intensity. it makes you emotional, and so you both just cry in each other’s arms

when he calms down, he’s peppering your face with kisses, holding you close as he tells you he loves you over and over and over.

you’ve talked about having kids before, ands it’s always just been a kind of “if it happens, it happens” thing, even if jihoon started dreaming about having a family with you a year into your relationship.

okay maybe jihoon has wanted this more than he let on.

every preventative measure to make sure you didn’t get pregnant wasn’t one hundred percent, and it’s not like you stopped them. but you did spend days of your honeymoon going at it. and the time difference fucked both of you up, and then the pure need for each other lasted another week after your honeymoon.

so it was quite likely that you would’ve gotten pregnant, given the circumstances.

jihoon all but carried you to bed that night, cuddling with you all night long as you discuss your worries for the next chapter of your life together. his hand rubs soft circles on your stomach the whole time.

jihoon sits with you the next morning as you call the make a doctors appointment.

he’s with you at every appointment, wanting to make sure both you and the baby are healthy.

jihoon is no stranger to cooking; he cooks often and he’s quite good at it. but now he’s cooking every meal for you, making sure you eat well. he says it’s because you need to rest and stay off your feet, but really, he just wants to take care of you.

it eases his anxiety around being a dad if you let him control certain things like meals, so you let him.

pregnancy is weird though. you can’t eat certain foods that you used to love, and crave combinations you would’ve never imagined eating together before.

jihoon just indulges you; he’ll pick up your weird food combinations for you and when you suddenly feel queasy after he sets a plate of food in front of you, he’ll just kiss your forehead and make you something you can eat.

as you get further along, he checks in with you more often. he’ll call you when he has free time and starts to work from home more often.

as soon as you start to show, it’s like his hand never leaves your stomach. he rubs it, puts his head on it, kisses it.

the first time he feels the baby kick, he’s over the moon. so so so happy. it makes you cry a little.

he gives you massages all the time, even on days where you’re not that sore. definitely the kind of partner to make sure you’re as comfortable as possible.

neither of you were bothered by knowing the gender of your baby, but when it’s time for the appointment, jihoon’s practically vibrating in his seat.

you get the ultrasound and learn you’re having a girl, and jihoon immediately spends hours learning how to braid hair.

he’s so knowledgeable on pregnancy. he spends so much time researching the best ways to support you and the baby. he calls his mom at least once a week to ask questions.

pregnancy sex goes so fucking crazy with this man. he’ll spend all evening making you feel good out of pure appreciation for all that you’re doing. if the position you’re in isn’t working, he’s putting more pillows under your back to make sure you’re comfortable.

decorating the nursery with you is his favourite thing ever. you both decided it would be better to put crib in your room for the first little bit just so the baby is close. he buys a spare crib and changing table for his studio aswell.

he stocks up on all the things you need months in advance.

he’ll lift your bump up to give your back a few minutes of relief. he’s strong, so it’s nothing for him.

a month before your due date, he goes on hiatus to make sure you’re absolutely taken care of. he never leaves your side, opting to order things you need instead of going outside for them.

the second your water breaks and the contractions start, he’s dialling every single member until one of them picks up so they can give you a ride to the hospital. even thought it’s four in the morning, he does not care.

eventually seungcheol picks up, and rushes over. jihoon swears he’s not panicking, but he hates seeing you in pain, even if the result of that pain is something you’ve both been waiting for.

in the hospital, he’s holding your hand, letting you squeeze the hell out of it with each contraction. once you’re in the hospital, his anxiety eases up because you’re surrounded by professionals. now he can focus on you and relieving your anxiety.

after hours and hours of contractions, you finally go into labour. jihoon is right there with you, holding your hand as he tells you that you’re doing so good. just a little bit more.

when your daughter is finally here, jihoon cries. seungcheol comes back with the bag jihoon left in the midst of the chaos, at a more reasonable time after getting a few more hours of sleep. seungcheol gets to witness jihoon holding his daughter for the first time, shirt discarded for some skin to skin contact.

jihoon had read that skin to skin contact was important for bonding, and the second he’s able to hold your daughter, his shirt is gone. once he knows you’re doing okay, all he feels is joy.

postpartum, he does everything he can to make sure you’re okay. the first few days spent in the hospital, jihoon doesn’t leave you for a single moment. your emotions are quite strewn, mostly joy, but there’s some issues adjusting to no longer being pregnant.

jihoon takes most of the load, though you still need to care for your daughter. one by one, the members visit you in the hospital to make sure both of you are doing okay.

jihoon’s parents come to help you out when it’s finally time to take the baby home. it gives you a little bit of time to relax with each other and recover. the way his mom coos at your daughter is so heart warming. his father just looks proud of both of you.

jihoon is surprisingly good at being a dad right out of the gate. it takes him a while to figure out what your daughter needs but once he has a solid list to go through, he’s efficient. he takes care of her when she cries in the night, whispering to you softly. “i’ve got it, baby. go back to sleep.” you can’t fall back asleep until he’s back in bed, baby peacefully back in her crib.

fatherhood looks good on jihoon. you often find him passed out on the couch, shirt somewhere else with your daughter on his chest. his hands are always so carefully holding her, supporting her neck. he’s started wearing his glasses more often. even though you just gave birth, the prospect of another child isn’t off the table when your husband looks like that.

[sinofwriting]

It's Like I Don't Know You Anymore - Max Verstappen (& Lewis Hamilton)

Words: 4,816 Summary: Y/N Rosberg, Nico Rosberg’s little sister, returns to the world of F1 after six years away. And she returns in the most unexpected garage. Warning(s)/Note(s): Takes place in 2022, Past Relationship with Lewis Hamilton that involves an age difference of about 11 years. Secret/Private Relationship(s), Smut in the Imola 2022 part

Masterlist | Support Me! | It's Like I Don't Know You Anymore Verse

Jeddah 2022

Lewis scoffs as he reads the trash article. It was anything but substantial and from a site that was more known for just recirculating already known things in their own words and for the occasional lie to stir up drama.

He had only seen it because he had alerts on his personal phone for her name and he couldn’t help but click on it seeing that it was popping up on an F1 related site. He expected it to be one of those top ten outfit things, he hadn’t expected utter garbage.

He’d know if she was returning to the paddock, he would’ve been told, especially during one of the first few weekends of the new season. The first season since he had won that he won’t have the number one on his car and his jaw clenched at the reminder that he was no longer the current world champion, that he had to stay longer, needed to stay longer. He wanted that eighth championship, and until he got it he was staying, needed to. And this year could be the year, would be the year.

“Have you seen this rubbish?” Lewis asks Toto when he steps out of his driver's room and into the garage. It’s filled with life as everyone gets ready for the first free practice session. Shouts being heard back and forth. The whirring of tools as mechanics make sure they’re all working and where they should be. “What rubbish?” His Austrian accent is thick as it wraps around the words. He glances around, looking for cameras, spotting none, he still lowers his voice. “Y/N,” the name is awkward off his tongue and it makes Toto flinch, no one had called her that, not unless it was for something important, like life or death. “Some blog reported that she’s in Red Bull’s garage.” He laughs. The taller man stills.

Toto after all these years still wasn’t sure what exactly had happened between Mouse and Lewis. He knew what had happened between Nico and Lewis, had tried to fix it, to patch it up, to stay neutral, but his preference for Lewis had been obvious to Nico and the brotherhood that had been so strong, had spanned so many years, ended quicker than it began as the season drew on and the tension got tighter.

And while he hadn’t managed to play middle man without one of them getting mad, shouting, screaming, storming away like a toddler. Mouse had. She had easily gone between the two men as they both threw fits. He still wasn’t sure how the girl had done it, barely an adult, but dealing with two grown men, but she had and handled it like a champ. Toto had never been allowed to hold Nico’s trophy like Lewis had allowed him to when he had won before, but he knew and had seen how Nico let her hold. As if it was not just his but hers as well.

Toto had expected when the 2017 season started even with Nico, leaving, retiring, for her to come anyways. Had set aside passes for her, made sure that she was in the system to be allowed in despite knowing that she would show up with Lewis, because that’s how it had always been. If she wasn’t showing up with her brother, she was showing up with Lewis. But she was a no show and when he tried to reach out, he was blocked.

She went full no contact with everyone in the racing world and at first Toto had thought that maybe something serious had happened, but she was still posting on her blog, though there was a distinct lack of F1, she just wasn’t talking to him. He could still remember the swell of anger that came over and then the shame that had quickly followed. How he had gone to Lewis to ask if she was alright, if she was mad at him, mad at Mercedes, only for Lewis to flinch, to shake his head. Telling him that he hadn’t heard from her or seen since the day after Nico won his championship. He could still feel the bitterness that rolled off of Lewis’ tongue as he said that none of the Rosberg’s were talking to him.

“It’s not rubbish.” Toto manages to say after a moment, trying to push back the memories, the grief of no longer getting to see Mouse grow up, because god she had just turned twenty-six and the last time he had seen her, she was twenty, still a child in many ways. “She is at Red Bull’s garage.” “What?” “She showed up after all the drivers did, waited I think, and made her appearance. Went straight to Red Bull. She had passes.” “She’s never liked Red Bull.” “You’ve never liked Red Bull.” Toto corrects.

It was a thing that had frustrated much of the Mercedes team, how despite himself, Nico, and Lewis despising Red Bull, she still liked them, would pop into their garage, chat with their drivers, mechanics, engineers, and such. Toto nearly had an aneurysm the first time he saw her and Horner talking.

“Doesn’t make sense.” “No it doesn’t.”

—

“Red Bull, huh? Naughty, naughty girl.” He clicks his tongue. She rolls her eyes, “You already knew that I was going there.” He laughs, “Doesn’t mean I can’t tease you about it.” “Was there a reason you called, Nico?” “What? I can’t check in on my sister?” She rolls her eyes again, but grins. “I just wanted to make sure that nothing happened.” “Lewis didn’t try to talk to me or at least not that I know of.” It was easy to read between the lines with Nico. “I stayed at Red Bull, in their garage, no one but Red Bull personnel came close to me.” “And you still want to do this?” “Yes.” Her voice is soft and she sits on the hotel bed, crossing her ankles. “I’ve missed it, the sport, the paddock, it’s nice to be back.” “And Mercedes?” “I have no interest in talking to anyone at Mercedes, past or present. They don’t matter, not anymore.” “Mouse. You will be careful, yes? I’m not there anymore.” “Careful as can be.”

Australia 2022

He expects her to be at the next race in Australia and he doesn’t know why. It had been one of the races she was always willing to miss as she hated flying there. Not feeling it was worth it.

So he pretends not to be disappointed when no photos of her arriving popping up, not even whispers of rumors of her sneaking in which he wouldn’t believe in the first place. The idea of her sneaking into a race made him scoff. It wasn’t her, that wasn’t how she operated. He knew her, knew she liked the attention of arriving at the races just like he did. He also pretends that it doesn’t hurt to think about how they used to show up together to races.

Imola 2022

“You’re going to win.” She soothes, rubbing his shoulders and he can’t help but let them drop, let her loosen the tension in them. “I retired from the last race.” “And that was the last race.” He wants to deny it, there’s still that feeling that settles at the bottom of his stomach when he doesn’t win, when he isn’t on the podium, in the points. But it’s lessened as he’s been with her. “And tell me, Schat.” He grabs at her hand, gently pulling her until she’s in front of him, standing between his legs. “Will I just win the GP or also the sprint?” She smiles and he can feel his heartbeat quicken. “Both.” She tells him, resting her hands on his face and letting their lips brush together. “You’ll win both, Max.”

He wins the sprint and then the GP and he’s thankful that she isn’t out with the rest of the team when he’s on the podium, that she stayed in his drivers room, waiting for him. Because he knows that if she had, he would’ve ruined their plans of staying private, secret. He would have kissed her, told her that she did it, she told him he was going to win, so he did. He won both of them for her.

Max does tell her that. He tells her that in between champagne flavored kisses, along with thanks and murmurs of his love against her skin as she sighs and tugs at his nomex.

“I could win every race this season with you supporting me, Schat.” His breathing is heavy, he’s in between her thighs, racesuit and nomex just tugged down enough for his dick to be free, ass exposed. She hadn’t protested, but moaned when he ripped through her tights that she was wearing underneath her skirt, and moaned again when he moved her underwear to the side. Rubbing at her clit to get her wet as he quickly prepped her before sinking into her. He repeats it as he thrusts inside her, high on not the two wins, but on her, on her support, her belief. “You're my lucky charm.” She freezes around him, her moans tapering off and he curses as he realizes what he said. “I’m sorry.” He murmurs, lips against her forehead. “I did not mean.” “I know.” She sounds sure, truthful, but her legs that had been tight around him, heels digging into him, have loosened.

“If I don’t win a race that is my fault or the teams. It is not yours.” He tells her. She nods but doesn’t look at him. “Schat.” He holds her chin between two fingers, holding eye contact with her. “You are my lucky charm. Not because I think I will win races because of you and your support. Because you make even the races I don’t win feel okay, like I haven’t failed.” “You haven’t failed.” She immediately says frowning and her legs are tightening back up around him. “You can’t win every race no matter how good luck it looks on you.” He flushes at her words. “I know you are different from him. You have shown that already.” She struggles with the next words. “I just don’t think I can handle being called a lucky charm yet.” “Then I won’t.” He tells her. She blinks at him, at how easy he said, at simple he’s making it. “But you said.” “Yes.” He shrugs, shifting his weight and they both hiss at how his body moves from it, both having forgotten that he was still inside her. But he pushes his building arousal away. “But I won’t say it any more. Not if it makes you uncomfortable.” She stares at him for a few seconds before smiling. “Ik houd van je Max.” He smiles back at her, kissing her. “Ik houd van je, Schat.”

He goes to pull out, unable to ignore the arousal building in him anymore, but not wanting her to feel like they need to have sex, but her heels are pressing into him, thighs tightening around him.

“Fuck me, Max.” He says her name, quiet and with wide eyes. She moves her hips and he follows them with a snap of his own. “You won two races.” She murmurs, breathing tickling his lips before she’s placing her lips on his jaw, moving them down to his neck. “Fuck me, Max. I want you to. Want to celebrate with you like this.”

She’s sucking a mark into his skin and he’s choking down a groan. “Just us two, our own quick celebration before you have to go with your team. Before I’m left all alone in our hotel room.” He starts to thrust again, pressing his lips against hers before she can say anything else, before he really leaves any earlier than he was already planning to at the dinner celebration the team was holding.

As he continues to thrust into her, his lips stay against hers, muffling both of their sounds, but as he feels his balls tightening, he breaks them apart, pressing her face into his neck, encouraging her to bite at him as his other hand goes between their bodies, to her clit.

The bite of hers against his collarbone when she clenches around him, cumming, has him hissing. He stills his hips as she comes down from her orgasm, still rubbing at her clit, but more gently.

“Where do you want it?” He asks, when she bats his hand away from her and presses for him to continue to rock into her body. His orgasm is quickly approaching and really he should be pulling out, just finish in his own hand in case he finishes inside her before she says it's okay. But she’s tight and warm and feels too good. “Do you want it in your mouth? Want me to pull out? Finish in my hand, feed it to you?” She moans at his words, at the thing they’ve done once before. “Or do you want me to leave you something? Cum inside you and have you feel it drip out, go back to the hotel with just your underwear stopping it from dripping down your leg and ruining your tights.” “Inside Max. Please, inside me.” He groans at her words, hips speeding up. He only manages a few solid thrusts before he’s shuddering, pressing as close as he can as cums inside her, muffling a moan against her shoulder.

His hips twitch a little in the aftershocks of his orgasm as he pants against her shoulder.

“You’re going to kill me.” “With what?” She laughs. “Orgasms?” “With your dirty little mind.” He tells her, slowly pulling out, rubbing at her thighs as he does. She laughs again and he smiles at how her whole face lights up.

Miami 2023

It’s Miami. It’s extravagant. It's the first race at the new circuit. It’s her.

She’s dressed in a soft color, bringing out her eyes. She’s wearing the bracelet he gave her when she turned fourteen, the ring her father gave her that once belonged to her grandmother. She’s not wearing the necklace he gave her when she turned eighteen. It’s back in Monaco, still sitting on the nightstand of what’s still her side of the bed.

She has new bracelets, rings, and a new necklace. The necklace makes his jaw clench, fists tighten. He had never thought to consider that maybe she’d be with someone else after all these years. He hadn’t, not for anything more than one night.

Lewis stares at the clasp of her necklace. Wonders if it’s worth anywhere near what he gave her. Wonders who gave it to her. Some boy with a trust fund? Some guy that managed to make it to the top not because of hard work but because of connections?

He doesn’t know and it burns alongside the anger. He used to know nearly everything about her and he still knows her, he just doesn’t know the new things and that hurts worse than not knowing her at all anymore.

He watches as Geri fixes the necklace for her and wonders when exactly she got so close to Horner’s wife. “Where exactly did you get this darling?” She glows at the name, “From a jeweler that Nico loves. I can never remember the name.” The burning inside him vanishes at his name. Something had changed, he knew something new about her. Necklaces were no longer just things she wore from significant others.

Spain 2022

He cocks an eyebrow as George comes up to him nervously, messing with his hands. “You alright?” “Yeah, I just heard a weird rumor.” His eyes dart away and George hates that Toto is making him do this but doesn’t want to think about why, can feel the headache from just imagining thinking about the why. “What did you hear?” “Apparently, Y/N Rosberg,” Lewis stills at her name and curiosity clutches at George before he pushes down and away. “got snuck into the Red Bull garage.” The older man immediately scoffs. “Yeah, right. She likes arriving at the races.” He raises his hands, “that’s just what I heard.” “Well, it’s wrong. A shit rumor. Anyone who knows Mouse,” the nickname leaves his mouth before he can think, can stop it, “knows that she loves arriving on a race weekend, all the cameras, getting to show off whatever outfit she put together.” “Just what I heard, mate.” George repeats, before quickly retreating, cursing Toto out underneath his breath as soon as he rounds the corner and is far away from Lewis.

Monaco 2022

She’s not at Monaco. She’s not at Monaco. The words are on repeat in his head. He doesn’t understand it. She lived here or maybe had lived here. Monaco was small, it was hard to imagine that he had never run into her since the end of 2016 but then again he managed to dodge him. So it was possible.

He just didn’t like the idea of it. That if she still lived here that she had made sure to dodge him, to make sure they never ran into each other.

Austria 2022

She doesn’t show up at Baku, her favorite circuit, Montreal, or Silverstone, but she’s here at Austria. He can’t make sense of why she’s showing up at the races she is. Can’t make sense of why it’s only Red Bull’s garage that she visits.

It’s driving him insane trying to make sense of it. Just like he can’t make sense of another rumor that she sneaked into watch the race in Baku. This one hadn’t been quiet though from George. It had made its run on twitter and instagram, though most fans of hers just like him, knew that they were false. Her blog was still full of talking about how much she loved showing up at race weekends, feeling the energy, interacting with fans, even if they were years old. It was telling that she never deleted them. And he knew that she’d never sneak into a race.

July 2015

“Lew?” Her voice is quiet, barely a whisper, as if she’s afraid he fell asleep. He makes a humming noise, keeping his eyes closed but pressing his fingers a bit more into her back as they dance along her spine. “When do you stop?” He frowns at the vague question, eyes blinking open. “Stop what?” “When did you stop seeing me as Nico’s sister? As a kid?” His fingers pause as he thinks about her questions, wonders if he really wants to tell her, really wants her to know. He takes a deep breath, in and out of the nose before letting his fingers continue to dance. “As Nico’s sister? Probably around 2011 and Nico wasn’t hiding you away from everyone as much. I still see you a bit as his sister, don’t know if that will ever change.” She nods, “and as a kid?” “December 2013.” He’s just happy that he doesn’t remember the day. “Nicole and I joined Nico, Viv and you on that yacht.” She makes a humming noise, curling closer to him. “Nicole noticed actually.” And he has to chuckle remembering his then girlfriend's reaction. “She hadn’t seen you for a few months and had never seen you like that. Told me that I’d have to help Nico out with keeping guys like us away from you.” She huffs out a laugh, but doesn’t say anything, sensing that he’s not done. “She said that and I looked and suddenly you weren’t five years old content only in Nico’s arms, or ten crying because Keke and Nico were leaving without you again. You had grown and you were fucking gorgeous.” She stares at him, unsure of what to make of what he just told her. Not sure how she felt that it was Nicole that had made him realize that she wasn’t a little girl anymore. “You know,” she starts. “I had boobs way before I was seventeen.” Lewis sputters out a laugh and she laughs as well. “Well, I wasn’t looking.” She shakes her head, before tucking it into the crook of his neck. “No, just waited until I was a month away from being legal.” “Yeah and I waited longer to do anything about it.” “Not that much longer.” She mumbles, grinning against his skin when he pinches at her.

Spa 2022 They're making a statement, not one that says much, her prior years coming to so many races and being friendly with drivers preventing that, but it’s still a statement.

It’s the second race since she’s returned instead of arriving before all the drivers or after when making an appearance in front of the cameras that she arrives when they are. More importantly she’s arrived with Max. She’s not on his arm or holding his hand, there’s a well kept distance between them. One that reads friendly, close, but not intimate. She wasn’t quite ready to go public with him, but she was willing to make it known that she and Max were friendly with each other.

“It’s nice having you here.” She smiles at Sophie, taking her eyes briefly off the little boy in her arms. “It’s nice being here.” The couch sinks next to her and she leans into Max as he wraps an arm around her shoulder, dropping a kiss to her temple. “Looks good on you.” He murmurs, smiling at his nephew in her arms. “A baby? Or a baby that looks identical to you?” “Well I’d much prefer one that looks like both of us.” She sends him a look, but can’t not smile at his words. “Sap.” “Just for you.”

Two days later she sits in a garage for the first time in years during a race and she remembers how much she loved it. There was nothing better than watching a race from the garage.

She watches as Max manages to recover from his grid penalty, making his way through the field and winning the race and she cheers with the rest of the garage, hugs everyone she can reach. As everyone runs out to greet Max, to watch as he celebrates his win, she stays.

Max didn’t have any impulse control when high on adrenaline, she knew exactly what would happen if she went out there with him, so she went back to his driver's room and waits for him.

Dutch 2023

“Mouse!” Lewis calls and he watches as she stills while Horner stiffens at the name. It makes him itch. Horner and the rest of Red Bull had always been the odd ones out, never calling her Mouse, but rather her name or girly, the last she took a shining to.

He could still remember the first time they had heard Horner call her that. He had been ready to punch him, but she had beamed at the team principal, jumping up to give him a hug and asking him about his wife.

“Lewis.” Her voice is cool and he nearly flinches at her calling him Lewis. He had never been Lewis to her, always Lew. “How have you been? It’s been awhile.” Nearly six years, he thinks but doesn’t say. “Good. So has Nico.” He flinches at his name. “Good.” His voice is quiet. “That’s good.”

Horner wraps an arm around her shoulders, “Let’s go. We’re going to be late.” She nods and doesn’t even glance at him as she and Horner walk away, leaving him looking after her with despair and grief threatening to swallow him whole.

Japan 2022

He watches as she looks at Max with tears in her eyes as the Red Bull crew cheer as Max gives his post race interview, smiling as he thanks the fans, smiling because he won his second championship.

As soon as the interview is done, he’s launching himself back into the arms of the Red Bull crew, they all easily take his weight, patting him on the back, cheering for him. And then he watches when as soon as they release him, Max sees her. His eyes going wide with surprise at seeing her.

Lewis watches as she leans as far over the barrier as she can, wrapping her arms around his neck as his go around her waist to hold her. He watches but nothing prepares him for what happens next, the pain that strikes his heart. Because suddenly she’s kissing him, tears running down her face and Max is kissing her back like he’s done it a hundred times.

He doesn’t hear it or see it, but one of Red Bull’s cameras does and it makes it into their video to celebrate Max winning his second championship. Her saying that she’s so proud of him, never been prouder, and that she loves him and the easy way Max says it back, no hesitation.

It’s that, not her kissing Max in front of seemingly the whole world, that makes him realize that the future he had imagined, the image of her that was still the nineteen year old girl he fell in love with, is gone and has been since the night that Nico won his championship and when she came to comfort him, he only had harsh and degrading words for her.

They never could have been together again after his accusations of her feeding Nico information, blaming her for his lack of winning because she wasn’t supportive enough, his accusation of the lucky charm she was supposed to be was nothing but bad luck just like she was and always had been.

He had deluded himself into thinking that they still would end up together, that her being the love of his life, meant that he was also hers. He’s deluded himself for almost six years and now it’s not just heartbreak that fills him but shame and guilt. Because how could he have ever thought she’d want to be with him again when he never even tried to offer her an apology or to tell anyone about her.

@cixrosie @darleneslane @fanboyluvr @quackquackhun @crystals-faith @andreea-15-25 @rewmuslupin @copper-boom @stopeatread @crashingwavesofeuphoria @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @topguncultleader @iloveyou3000morgan @benstormy @elliegrey2803

[cepheustarot]

What does fate have in store for you in the near future?

Attention! This reading is for entertainment purposes only. This tarot reading does not give a 100% guarantee that all the described situations will occur or being ultimate truth. You build your own life and destiny and only you know yourself best.

Paid readings

Pick a pile. Choose one or more pictures. Trust your intuition.

Pile 1: Here fate will arrange for you to meet a person. It will be an unexpected meeting for you, since a person will literally appear suddenly out of nowhere but from the first days you will feel a strong connection with them, you will get very close to this person, you will open your soul to them, as they will open theirs to you, in general, emotional and personal conversations will be involved here. By themself the person is calm, perhaps they are not very emotional and in some places can behave as if they do not care but in fact it is not so! Person is very sensitive, prone to empathy, they are a good listener and you can say they generally like to listen more than talk. They may also be well versed in psychology or something similar, may have a lot of experience in terms of relationships between people. And although a person is very sensitive, still relies on logic and common sense, not allowing emotions to take over. In general fate organized this meeting for you to help you succeed in some area (mostly in terms of studies, finances, work) or if you had problems then they will help you solve them. It is also necessary for you to find support in it since now you may be in limbo and feel unstable or you constantly have situations that unsettle you.

Pile 2: As I see it this option could be chosen by those who do not feel very well morally, you feel exhausted or you have been depressed lately, you may feel very tired, burnout, stress and all that sort of thing. You may also miss a lot of privacy, being alone and you may feel a lot of pressure from your family or people around you. Here you might not find the opportunity to relax or generally forget to rest because you were immersed in some kind of activity. So here fate, roughly speaking, will "force you" to take a break, perhaps your plans will be interrupted and you will be forced to spend time with yourself. Perhaps your loved ones will leave for other cities, places or will be too busy to meet you or vice versa you will have to leave for some reason.

Pile 3: Here fate will give you a choice that cannot be abandoned, where there will be no third option and you will have to choose from what you have. In particular this choice is associated with some person dear to you, with whom you have known for a long time, communicate closely and in general you can have a very strong connection. It can be your close friend, your lover, your colleague, your partner with whom you work, etc. In particular here you will have to make a choice to continue communicating with this person or not, since your relationship has reached some kind of dead end and is not developing in any way, you may not feel the same warmth on his part, the same interest and it may seem to you that this person has changed. This choice is a turning point in your life or on your life path but in any case, thanks to this situation, you will be able to gain wisdom, become stronger, more experienced — in any case, all this will only be a plus for you even if it is hard or painful at the beginning, then everything will bear fruit in the end.

Thank you for reading! I will be glad of any feedback 🖤

[cherrrydragon]

➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: LONG AWAITED

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SUMMARY ↳ When the going gets tough, you'll get going. You straighten up in your seat, feeling heat rush through your face. Damian beside you remains composed, his expression unreadable as he regards Ms. Varley with a calm demeanor. "Sorry," you squeak, quickly gathering your things and leaving. You ignore Victoria's questioning stare during ballet. You ignore Damian's heated gaze during art. pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: none at all wc: 3.7k

You finish the nanite chamber the day before you go back to school. The last thing you do is place some badassium and watch as the machine powers to life. The iron spider suit floats inside, a swirl of energy trailing around it.

Damian is off to the side, eyeing the thing. Jon sits crisscross in the air, hands in his lap. “What is your suit made of? I’ve never seen something like it,” observes Jon, watching the compacted suit bob up and down slowly.

Now, you know nanotech is a thing in the DC verse, but for the life of you you can’t remember what for. “No clue,” you lie, shrugging. “My dad made it. That’s all I know.”

“But you made this.” Damian gestures to the nanite chamber.

“He left blueprints for one in my suit,” you shrug.

Jon floats closer, poking the glass. “What does it do, exactly?”

“Its main purpose is to charge the suit.” You lean back, crossing your arms. “It also repairs the suit if it’s damaged, though.”

Damian eyes the chamber with a mix of curiosity and skepticism, his gaze flickering between you and the pulsating suit. "Impressive," he finally remarks, his tone guarded yet intrigued. "Your father seems to have thought of everything."

You nod, a hint of pride awakening in you. "Yeah, he's always been good with tech. I've just been following his instructions."

Jon tilts his head, looking at you thoughtfully. "Must be handy, having something like this. Does it take a lot of maintenance?"

"Not really," you reply, relaxing a bit as you explain. "The badassium is a strong power source. That's all it really needs."

Damian's expression softens slightly as he observes the suit, perhaps seeing it in a new light. "And you're sure it's safe?"

You nod confidently. "Who do you think I am? Of course.”

“Of course. You wouldn’t be standing here if it wasn't.”

You scoff, reaching out to swat at his arm. He lets you, then grabs your hand and pulls you to him. Damian's grip is firm but gentle, and you find yourself pulled into a moment of unexpected closeness. His eyes meet yours, the intensity of his gaze softened by a hint of warmth.

Jon watches with interest, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he hovers nearby. "Looks like Damian's impressed," he teases lightly.

Damian rolls his eyes but doesn't let go of your hand. "Impressed might be a stretch," he mutters, but his tone lacks its usual edge.

“I’ll take what I can get,” you grin, pulling your hand from his.

Damian releases your hand, a faint smirk crossing his face. "Don't get used to it," he says, his voice returning to its usual cool demeanor.

Jon chuckles, floating back a bit. "Damian likes smart people.”

Damian shoots Jon a glare, which Jon returns with an innocent shrug. "Can't blame him," Jon adds playfully. "You are pretty amazing."

“Aw,” you croon, reaching out to pinch Jon’s cheek. “You’re sweet.”

You catch Jon’s arms reaching out towards you, so you dodge. Alas, he is quicker, and he picks up into the air with him. Jeez, they’re touchy today.

Damian shakes his head, a faint smirk lingering on his lips as he watches the interaction between you and Jon. "You two are incorrigible," he comments, though there's a hint of amusement in his tone.

“Okay, food time,” declares Jon, carrying you out of the cave with you in his arms. Your protests are ignored. “Time for you to eat.”

Damian and Jon share a look as they leave.

Damian holds his hand out for you as you step out of the car. You think that spending time with Jon, who grew up in the country (aka where manners are automatic) has rubbed off on him. It’s still as snowy as ever, and you feel it crunch under your shoe. As you step onto the snow-covered ground, the cold air nips at your cheeks.

"Thanks," you murmur, giving his hand a quick squeeze before letting go.

Some people give you glances as the both of you walk in. They’ll be seeing the pair of you much more, since you now live with him. You just hope the news won’t catch on too quickly. You’re not all that interested in being a new “Wayne” kid.

Once inside, the warmth of the building envelops you, a stark contrast to the chill outside. It’s never a fun time being back in school after a break, but you think you feel less strongly than other kids. School is just easy for you.

Damian and you take your seats beside one another. You sigh at the familiar space. Ms. Varley looks even less happy to be here than your peers, not that you’re really surprised. Her monotone voice drones through the morning announcements, barely registering in your mind. You steal a glance at Damian, who seems equally disinterested in the proceedings. His focus drifts to the window, where snowflakes dance against the glass, a serene contrast to the mundane classroom scene.

Then, he glances at you. The two of you hold eye contact, simply just taking the other in. You find yourself drawn to his piercing gaze, a mixture of curiosity and something deeper stirring within you. He leans closer, you hope he doesn’t somehow hear you gulp. “You’re staring,” he murmurs, lips brushing against your ear.

“So are you.” The air between you feels charged. His closeness sends a shiver down your spine, a mixture of excitement and uncertainty swirling within you.

The classroom seems to fade into the background as you both exchange glances, each moment stretching with anticipation. You can almost feel the weight of his presence, his proximity stirring something deep within you. Ms. Varley's voice continues to drone on, but neither of you are truly listening. Damian's hand brushes against yours subtly, a silent reassurance that sends a thrill through you.

You tilt your head slightly towards him, catching the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the lingering winter air. "Guess we're both guilty," you reply in a hushed tone, your breath barely grazing his cheek.

The bell rings, signaling the end of class. Students begin shuffling out of the room, but you and Damian remain seated, caught in your own private world. Finally, he breaks the silence, his voice low and intimate.

"Would you... like to do something after school?" Damian's question hangs in the air, laden with possibilities.

“Like what?” you echo softly, leaning in a bit closer. Your thumb travels up to your face. You take your nail between your lips, biting it in anticipation. His eyes stare unabashedly.

"Anything," he replies softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Whatever you'd like."

“There's a new exhibit at the Gotham Museum of Art," you suggest, voice steady yet tentative. "I think you’d like it.”

“Ahem.”

You startle, because, holy shit, what were you thinking? Ms. Varley has her hands on her hips, glaring at you two. “Class ended two minutes ago.” Her tone is sharp, cutting through the lingering atmosphere between you and Damian.

You straighten up in your seat, feeling heat rush through your face. Damian beside you remains composed, his expression unreadable as he regards Ms. Varley with a calm demeanor. “Sorry,” you squeak, quickly gathering your things and leaving. Damian follows you out.

You ignore Victoria’s questioning stare during ballet.

You ignore Damian’s heated gaze during art.

Damian tells Alfred to drop you two off at the museum. He says it’s for your art class, that you've been assigned to study some pieces there. You wonder why he lied, since the two of you aren’t doing anything wrong. You’re just hanging out, right?

As Alfred drops you off at the museum, Damian’s demeanor is composed, his posture elegant as always. You step out onto the bustling street, the crisp air mingling with the sounds of Gotham's urban rhythm. The museum stands before you, its grand façade a testament to the city's rich heritage.

"Thank you, Pennyworth," Damian nods to the butler before turning to you. "Shall we?"

You nod, mentally preparing yourself. Preparing yourself for what? You’re not sure. Inside the museum, the atmosphere is serene, with the soft murmur of visitors and the occasional echo of footsteps on marble floors. Damian leads you through the corridors lined with artwork, his knowledge of the pieces evident as he shares insights and observations with you.

You find yourself drawn into conversations of others that range from the profound to the whimsical, discussing everything from classical masterpieces to contemporary expressions of art. Damian's presence is reassuring, his occasional smiles and thoughtful gestures adding to the richness of the experience.

As you explore the exhibits together, you notice how Damian's demeanor softens, his usual guardedness giving way to moments of genuine interest. The museum becomes a backdrop, noises muffling.

At one point, you find yourselves standing before a striking abstract painting, its vibrant colors and bold strokes capturing your attention. Damian watches you quietly, his expression contemplative as he takes in your reaction.

"This one's interesting," you comment, studying the painting with a thoughtful expression.

Damian nods, his gaze lingering on the artwork. "It's meant to evoke a sense of movement and emotion," he remarks softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Movement? Emotion?” you remake, mind thinking inappropriately. You can’t help it.

You let out a surprised yelp as Damian pinches your side, a smirk dancing on his lips. "Hey!" you protest, swatting his hand away with a laugh.

He chuckles softly, a rare sound that warms your heart. "Pay attention to the art, not your thoughts," he chides gently, though his eyes betray a glint of amusement.

Your eyes catch color off to the side, and before you know it, your feet are carrying you across the hall. The painting isn’t grand or anything, but you resonate with it. A person, multiple persons, stare at you. The colors remind you of a portal. The faces remind you of you. And other Peter Parker's, and other Gwen Stacy's, and other MJ’s. All you are and all you'll never be.

…

Man, you miss home.

As you stand before the painting, its vibrant hues and abstract forms seem to swirl with a life of their own. Each brushstroke tells a story, evoking memories and emotions you thought were buried deep within. Damian watches you silently, his gaze contemplative as he senses your introspection.

"Are you alright?" he asks softly, his voice breaking the stillness around you.

You blink, refocusing on Damian's concerned expression. "Yeah, just... this painting," you begin, struggling to find the right words. "It's like... it's like looking into a mirror of sorts."

He looks at you. “I don’t always know who I am, or who I’m supposed to be,” you admit. “I just know I want to keep doing what I want to do.”

Damian listens intently, his expression softening as he takes in your words. He reaches out, his hand gently grasping yours, a silent gesture of understanding and support. "You don't have to have all the answers right now," he reassures you, his voice quiet yet reassuring. "Just know that you're not alone."

You try to pull away, but his hand grips yours, tight and assured. His touch grounds you, anchoring you in the moment as you look into his eyes. There's a warmth there, a depth of understanding that surprises you.

After a moment, Damian gently squeezes your hand, silently asking if you're ready to move on. You nod, but you find yourself reluctant to let go of his hand. You should let go, you know, but you just can’t.

Damian takes you to a smaller gallery tucked away from the main halls. The lighting is softer here, casting a warm glow over the carefully curated pieces. Damian stops before a painting that contrasts sharply with the abstracts and vibrant colors you've seen so far.

It's a portrait, meticulously detailed and imbued with a sense of emotion that transcends its stillness. The subject is a young boy, his expression a mixture of innocence and quiet strength. The artist has captured every nuance, from the play of light on his face to the subtle curve of his smile.

Damian gazes at the painting with a quiet intensity, his eyes tracing the contours of the boy's face as if searching for something deeper. "This," he begins softly, his voice barely above a whisper, "is my favorite."

You stand beside him, studying the painting with newfound respect. "It's beautiful," you murmur, your voice touched with genuine admiration.

"It's more than that," Damian continues, his tone thoughtful. "It's a reminder of... resilience. The ability to endure despite the odds."

You nod, understanding his words on a level that goes beyond the surface. The painting speaks volumes about Damian himself, about the strength and complexity hidden beneath his aloof exterior

As you both stand there, sharing this moment of quiet contemplation, you feel a connection deepen between you. It's not just about the art anymore; it's about the shared experience, the unspoken understanding that bridges the gap between your worlds.

“I get it.” Because a couple of months ago, Damian Wayne and Jon Kent were nothing more than words and colors. You’ve experienced his grievances, his growth. You understand because you know. And also, just look at yourself. You’re stuck in a universe not your own, but you’re doing fine. Dare you say… you’re pretty… content.

“You do?”

“I do.”

His eyes bore into yours, taking you in. His gaze is piercing, strong and relentless. Without a word, he takes your hand again, leading you away from the crowded gallery into a quieter alcove.

The moment stretches, charged with anticipation as you stand face to face. "You're amazing," he murmurs, his voice low and intimate. "I've never met anyone like you."

His hands raise, hovering at your sides. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

Huh–

His hands grasp under your thighs, heaving you up against him with ease. His fingers squeeze into your flesh, sending your mind spiraling.

And his lips– oh. His lips crash into yours. They feel… they feel good against your own. Plush, soft, and oh so desired. An exploration between souls. The kiss deepens, giving in to a deep hunger.

Your arms betray you, hooking over his shoulders, hands finding their place in his hair. You ruffle and grip it, messing it up from its meticulous presentation. Damian presses you against the wall, breathing heavily through his nose. Your lips part, allowing him to slip his tongue inside–Jesus.

Your legs tighten around his waist, as it’s the only thing you can think to do. Where else would they go? He’s holding you up so good, it’s only natural. He draws you impossibly closer, moving his body against yours. He sighs into your mouth, shoulders flexing. Damian is all taking, like he’s drawing something out of you after so long.

You furrow your brows, drawing back. He chases you, unwilling to let you go now. He hums like he’s confused at your movement. Your pulse is thundering. You can hear his doing the same. Need claws at your ribcage. Your breath catches. He shudders against you.

Damian pulls back, only to take a breath. His gaze is unbelievably intense, as if he is unraveling secrets with his eyes alone. The air around you is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. You can feel the heat of his breath mingling with yours. Your proximity closes as he presses his lips to yours once more with one kiss, two kisses, three. A plethora of tiny fleeting kisses, no less mind-numbing than the other. Time seems to stand still as you both linger in the sweetness of those chaste kisses, each one leaving you yearning for more.

The area is filled with smacks of your lips. He moves languidly against you, completely content. Finally, he pulls away, leaving your lips tingling. His eyes stay on them for a while, looking down at you wrapped around him before trailing up to meet your eyes. You savor the way his chest heaves against yours.

“Damian,” you breathe. He closes his eyes, like your voice itself sets him off.

“Habib(t)i,” he sighs, leaning in to press his face against yours. Oh, God. “My beloved,” he croons. How whipped is he from just a kiss?

A kiss. Oh. Oh, wait. No. Nonono. This can’t happen. This cannot happen.

You push off of his shoulders, tugging against his grip to land on solid ground. His grip loosens reluctantly, his expression a blend of confusion and concern. "What?" he asks softly, reaching out tentatively as if afraid you might vanish. “What is it?”

“Damian,” you manage.

He stands there, watching you with an intensity that speaks of his own turmoil. "Tell me," he presses gently, taking a step closer, his hand hovering near yours as if seeking reassurance.

“You… Jon,” you say desperately, turning away. “You, you’re–” You risk a glance at him, hoping for clarity but finding only the storm of emotions in his eyes. “You’re confused.”

“I am not,” he growls, offended.

“I… this can’t happen,” you stress. “I’m sorry, but this can’t happen. Not for me.”

He scoffs, but lacks his usual bravado. “Don’t push me away because of fear.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, but you steel yourself, taking a deep breath to calm the swirling emotions threatening to consume you. “It’s not fear, Damian,” you reply, voice trembling.

“Then what?” he asks, borderline desperate. "Tell me what you need."

“I can’t…” Are you a… homewrecker? Are they officially together? “I just can’t. Right now.” You turn around, hands trembling. His hands reach out for you. “[Name]–”

“We’ll talk later. I swear.” Your feet carry out across the room. “But I just can’t right now.” The air crackles with tension as you move away, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily between you. Damian stands there, conflicted and vulnerable, his usual composure shaken by. His hand hesitates in the air, reaching out for you but falling back to his side as you retreat.

Your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest by the time you make it outside. You hardly feel the cold biting at your skin. What have you done? You hands struggle to get a grip on your phone, opening your texts with Jon.

please get this boy some brown contacts

jon im so sorry

He responds seconds later.

???

i kissed damian

!??!?!?!

LOOK OUT

You gasp, moving out of the way as a car barrels past you. The bastard honks at you, asshole. You sigh, looking back to your phone–your phone. That’s not in your hand anymore. Where is your phone?

Oh, no. You see it now. On the ground, screen cracked beyond repair. The car must of ran over it, you guess. You close your eyes and breathe, just breathe. “Great,” you mutter under your breath, pocketing the useless device. You glance around, feeling a mix of frustration and regret swirling inside you. The street is bustling with people going about their day, oblivious to the turmoil in your mind.

You detour into a nearby alley. Probably not the smartest thing to do in Gotham, but you can take care of yourself. Knees giving out, you sink the ground against the wall.

You just want to go home.

The world spins around you, the weight of your actions crashing down. Everything feels like it's slipping through your fingers. You rest your head against the cold brick wall, trying to gather your thoughts amidst the chaos.

Moments pass, or maybe it's minutes. Time seems to stretch and warp around you, the sounds of the city fading into a dull hum. You press your palms against your eyes, trying to block out the swirling thoughts.

What have you done? Jon. Oh, Jon. Damian. Damian Damian Damian.

Taking a deep breath, you push yourself off the wall, steeling yourself for what comes next. There’s an ache in your chest, somewhat familiar.

hey look it

Huh?

over there!

What is that? An explosion color. Visual kaleidoscope. A swirling vortex of hues, shimmering and pulsating with an otherworldly energy. Your heart races. The air around you crackles with energy, pulling you towards the known unknown.

A figure steps out hand outstretched. His blue and red suit is familiar.

“[Name],” he calls. Miguel.

“Miguel,” you whisper, hand reaching out without hesitation. He grasps yours reassuringly, slowly pulling you into the portal. The bright light is welcoming. You don’t even squint as you pass through the universe.

You breathe as you step into your destination. Nueva York is something ethereal to you. Your favorite part of this Earth might just be a Lunar Train. Really, a train to the moon? How cool is that? You can see the line stretching into the sky from here.

Miguel's hands land on your shoulder, gently turning you around. “Are you hurt?”

You manage to shake your head. “No.” His eyes roam you for injuries, nodding in satisfaction when he finds none.

“[Name]!”

Arms wrap around you, nearly tackling you to the ground. Soft hair presses into your cheek as Pav grips you tight. A grin stretches across your face automatically, arms coming up to embrace him. “Pav!”

He laughs breathily. “Missed you,” he murmurs, voice muffled against your shoulder.

“Missed you too,” you reply softly, squeezing him tightly before pulling back slightly to look at him. His eyes are a little watery. He turns to the side waving his arm. “It’s [Name]! They’re here!”

You watch as your friends barrel around the corner. Miles trips a little bit as he runs towards you. Gwen is tearing up as soon as she spots you. They join your little group hug with yells of your name. Hobie rounds the corner with Peter B., hands in his pockets casually. You hold out a hand to him and he joins in, gripping you all tightly. Peter beams at your group, Mayday in his hands.

“[Name],” sniffles Miles, “where have ya been?”

Gwen wipes away a tear, her expression a mix of joy and concern. "Are you okay? What happened?"

You only hold them tighter, eyes shutting tight. A traitorous tear falls down your face. Hobie diligently wipes it away. You don’t want to talk right now.

You’re finally back.

notes: everytime i write a damian scene he gets 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 i swear (its not on purpose it just happens </3)

i actually wanted jon to have the first kiss in the fic, but i dont think he'd let reader get away tbh lol, and if he did he's sticking an ear out because he's worried ab em.

[f1letters]

midnights (3am edition) - masterlist

A collection of stories inspired by lyrics of the one and only, miss Taylor Swift.

note: regarding the stories, some of them are not inspired by the entirety of the song but only by some loose verses (due to their content) PLEASE check the warnings before reading (as there are stories with some tw)

lavender haze | mv1 (2.8k)

"I been under scrutiny, you handle it beautifully"

summary: after winning his second championship in another controversial way, max needed her by his side more than ever as the media tried to tear him apart

maroon | cs55 (4.3k)

"how the hell did we lose sight of us again? sobbing with your head in your hands, ain't that the way shit always ends?"

summary: they both knew their relationship would ruin them both, but they couldn't stop themselves from running back to each other every goddamn time

anti-hero | cl16 (3.6k)

"I wake up screaming from dreaming, one day, I'll watch as you leaving"

summary: no matter how many times charles told her she was more than enough, this misogynistic world kept giving her reasons to run away (driver!reader)

snow on the beach | ls18 (3.2k)

"you wanting me tonight feels impossible, but it's coming down"

summary: nothing would ever compare to the feeling of simultaneously falling in love with each other

you're on your own, kid | pg10 (4.1k)

"I wait patiently, he's gonna notice me. it's okay, we're the best of friends"

summary: after what she thought was the best night of her life, she came to the realization that she was nothing but one more girl on his list

midnight rain | gr63 (3.1k)

"chasing that fame, he stayed the same, all of me changed like midnight"

summary: what happens when he decides his career will always be more important than their relationship?

question…? | ls18 (3.4k)

"did you wish you'd put up more of a fight when she said it was too much?"

summary: she was just planning a fun night out with her best friends, but an unexpected reunion changes everything

vigilante shit | pg10 x cl16 (3.4k)

"you did some bad things, but I'm the worst of them"

summary: revenge is served cold and it tastes especially sweet when it involves his best friend

bejeweled | ln4 (2.7k)

"and I miss you, but I miss sparkling"

summary: after a triple-header where they couldn't see each other, things got even stranger when her boyfriend seemed totally uninterested in spending time with her. so, she took matters into her own hands

labyrinth | aa23 (3.9k)

"uh-oh, I'm falling in love. oh no, I'm falling in love again"

summary: it's safe to say she wasn't expecting to fall in love so quickly after just ending a five-year relationship, but alex albon was just everything she needed without even realizing it (russell!reader)

karma | lh44 (3.6k)

"karma is the guy on the screen coming straight home to me"

summary: seeing her toxic ex was never fun, but maybe it was less fun for him when he realized she was currently dating the GP winner on the screen, who happened to be his favourite driver

sweet nothing | sv5 (3.0k)

"all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing"

summary: after years of battling infertility, seb was still by her side. he didn't need anything else but her... but maybe their lives were about to get a little more crowded

mastermind | cs55 (3.8k)

"what if I told you none of it was accidental?"

summary: it all started when she saw him across the room and she knew right away she wouldn't give up until he was hers

the great war | dr3 (3.9k)

"my hand was the one you reached for all throughtout the Great War"

summary: after the media was filled with cheating rumours involving her husband, she faced hard times trying to rebuild what was left of their relationship

bigger than the whole sky | ms47 (2.9k)

"i'm never gonna meet what could've been, would've been, what should've been you"

summary: guilt consumed her alive when she lost the baby she initially didn't plan on having... maybe the outcome could've been better if she did something different, she thought

paris | eo31 (3.2k)

"romance is not dead if you keep it just yours"

summary: maybe their family and friends didn't understand all the secrecy of their relationship, but why risk ruining what they had when they lived happier than ever inside of their own bubble?

high infidelity | mv1 x ln4

"do I really have to tell you how he brought me back to life?"

summary: she knew it was a mistake getting involved with her boyfriend's best friend from the beginning, but she only realized how wrong it really was when she got confronted by the one person she should've been faithful to

glitch | ms47

"we were supposed to be just friends"

summary: they were supposed to be just friends with benefits, but things started to feel real when they found themselves travelling to each other constantly... behind her brother's back (vettel!reader)

would've, could've, should've | dr3

"and I damn sure never would've danced with the devil"

summary: when daniel thought his career was about to skyrocket in mclaren, he chose not to have anything to do with her anymore. two years later, regretting everything, he looked for her, only to find out she was a single mom to a beautiful curly-haired girl

dear reader | cl16 (2.8k)

"to a house, not a home, all alone cause nobody's there"

summary: when two strangers meet by fate in the same bar with the same goal - to drink their feelings - maybe they discover that they are actually two halves that fit together perfectly

[herlondonboy]

metaphor, clarisse la rue

summary: nudes is a metaphor for love, but surely there are other way to express your feelings?

warnings: ITS NOT SEXUAL!!! it's 100% pg-13. DIOR IS 17, that's weird. nudes is a metaphor for love but reader doesn't get it. just says nudes a bunch. again, NOT SEXUAL.

wc: 1.1k

a/n: please tell me if this makes sense...

you share nudes when you trust someone deeply. it’s considered a high form of showing your love. allowing someone so far away to see you at your most vulnerable. it was what you did when you were in love, right?

did you understand it?

do you understand why, in a world painted with vulnerability, the exchange of nudes becomes a delicate dance of trust? each pixel, a brushstroke revealing the canvas of intimacy between two souls. as you bare your essence through the lens, it's not just skin on display; it's a testament to the trust woven into the fabric of your connection.

the subtle play of light and shadow mirrors the nuanced layers of your emotions, creating a mosaic of intimacy that transcends the physical. each shared image is a whispered promise, an unspoken pact that echoes the trust built brick by brick in the architecture of your relationship.

the digital realm transforms into a sanctuary where openness thrives, and the exchange of nudes becomes a metaphorical bridge connecting hearts. in the vulnerability of exposure, trust finds its strongest anchor, fostering a bond that withstands the test of time.

as you navigate the terrain of shared moments, the pixels become vessels of sincerity, encapsulating the essence of trust in a world where transparency is often obscured. nudes, in this verse, transcend mere visuals, becoming the language of trust that binds two souls in a symphony of shared vulnerability.

in the quiet corridors of your mind, scepticism echoes louder than the gentle whispers of trust. the metaphorical dance of nudes as a symbol of profound love seems like a concept too fantastical to grasp. as you navigate the digital landscape, you can't help but question the validity of such an intimate metaphor.

the canvas of your doubts is painted with shades of scepticism, and you find yourself hesitating at the threshold of vulnerability. the notion that sharing nudes could encapsulate the depth of love feels like a poetic exaggeration, a narrative spun by the romantic minds that may have overlooked the intricacies of real-life connections.

in the glow of your screen, you ponder the fragility of trust and whether pixels can truly translate into a language of profound emotions. the scepticism is a shield, a defence mechanism honed through years of navigating a world where trust is often elusive and fragile.

as you scroll through messages and shared images, you can't shake the nagging belief that love, true and unfiltered, transcends the digital realm. it's a sentiment anchored in tangible actions, shared experiences, and the messy, imperfect reality of human connection. nudes, you argue within yourself, can't possibly encapsulate the complexity of emotions that define genuine love.

so, no. you don’t understand it.

yet, even in your disbelief, a subtle curiosity lingers. perhaps there's a kernel of truth in the metaphor, a flicker of understanding waiting to be unearthed. as you continue to grapple with these thoughts, you find yourself at the crossroads of scepticism and the potential for a deeper understanding of the intricate dance between trust and love.

in the quiet moments of introspection, you wonder if embracing vulnerability in the digital realm could indeed be a bridge to a more profound connection.

then came along clarisse la rue.

she emerges as an unexpected muse, but your scepticism remains steadfast. the fiery connection you share with clarisse doesn't completely dissolve the doubts that linger around the metaphor of expressing love through shared nudes.

in the soft glow of your screen, your affection for clarisse grows, but you continue to believe that love transcends the digital realm. the metaphor, in your eyes, simplifies a complex spectrum of emotions into a narrow perspective. you yearn to express your love for clarisse through diverse channels, beyond the confines of shared images.

for you, love is a multi-dimensional tapestry, woven with actions, shared experiences, and genuine moments of connection. clarisse becomes the recipient of your affection, and you express your love through handwritten letters, spontaneous gestures, and the timeless art of conversation. the pixels on a screen, while a part of your journey, don't encapsulate the entirety of your feelings.

despite the depth of your emotions for clarisse, you remain unconvinced that exposing the vulnerable aspects of yourself through shared nudes is the pinnacle of trust and intimacy. your belief in the richness of diverse expressions of love becomes a testament to the complexity inherent in human connections.

you can show your vulnerability through your words.

inside the area cabin, you and clarisse found yourselves wrapped in the embrace of each other's presence. the soft rustle of leaves overhead provided a natural symphony as you both sat together, the moon casting its gentle glow upon your shared solitude.

as you stared into the distance, clarisse's voice broke the tranquil silence. "what are you thinking about?" she asked, curiosity lacing her words. the night air held a subtle chill, but the warmth of your connection created an invisible cocoon around both of you.

a thoughtful smile played on your lips, contemplating how to articulate the intricate thoughts dancing through your mind. you ended up just settling on a short, “nothin’.”

clarisse nodded, her eyes, filled with a depth of emotion, met yours. in that moment, her voice softened, carrying a weight of sincerity, "i love you infinitely."

the simplicity of those words held a profound impact, resonating with the unspoken understanding that had grown between you. a rush of warmth surged within you as you locked eyes with clarisse. in the quiet embrace of the night, you knew words were unnecessary— your hearts spoke a language more profound than any conversation could convey. than any picture could convey.

with a reciprocal smile, you reached for her hand, intertwining your fingers in a silent acknowledgement of the love that bound you together. the night seemed to stand still as the world around you faded into insignificance, leaving only the intimacy of the present moment.

"i love you too," you finally uttered, the words carrying a sense of completeness. with those three simple words, the unspoken thoughts and emotions found a voice, echoing through the stillness of the night. “i’ll love you for forever and a day.”

as the night continued its slow journey, you both lingered in each other's presence, finding solace in the depth of your connection. the world outside melted away, leaving only the shared heartbeat and the whispered promises of love exchanged beneath the celestial canopy. in the quietude of the night, you revelled in the beauty of a love that needed no explanation— it simply existed, profound and infinite.

in your own way.

[meguwumibear]

very quick sfw togame writing warm up before i tackle some wips

If there's one think Togame is good at, it's starting and ending fights. Violence is familiar to him. He was weened on it, in a way. Aggression and anger are comforts, a balm.

"Who do you want me to be, huh," he spits at you. His fights with you are never physical but the bruises left by your words take longer to heal than those left by a fist. "Do us both favor and just tell me."

The look you give him is gentle, disappointed even, soft features slipping, sagging, until they finally come to rest in a pointed frown.

He isn't going for disappointment. He's going for angry. Punching low to knock you off balance. He wants to know your fury. He wants to watch you fight.

"I just want you to be yourself," you say.

And, what kind of sick, twisted shit is that?

Be himself?

Be himself?

When has he ever been anything other than what others want him to be. A doting son. A loyal second. A bad boy you can date to piss off you parents. He has never, not once in his entire fucking life, been himself.

Fuck, why do you have to make things so difficult? Why can't you just tell him who to be? Why won't you just fight him?

"What if..." his voice trails off. He averts his gaze. If he keeps looking at you, the words won't come out right. Reconciliation is unfamiliar to him. He doesn't know what it looks like, but he thinks it might feel like being lost at sea. The ocean waves have a way of smoothing out even the toughest of rocks, "What if I don't know how to do that?"

He chances a glace at you. You're still frowning. Damn, he hates it when you frown. Hates it even more when it's his fault you look like that, all mopey and sad and one wrong word away from tears.

"It isn't too late to learn," you reply. "I could help you if you'd like. It isn't easy, but you can start by identifying what you want, what you like."

He wraps himself around you, tightly, as if to anchor himself to a shore. His arms move ever so slightly with the rise and fall of your chest as you breath. It's soothing. You're soothing. He doesn't want to lose this.

"I want you," he mumbles carefully into the top of your head. "I like you."

You shuffle a bit in his arms as if to turn to face him, but Togame holds you still for him. He isn't ready to see whatever look has made its way onto your face. No one ever taught him to be fluent in sadness. If you frown at him now, he'll break.

"You have me," you whisper, still squirming around in his grip. "Togame, you have me. I promise."

Your words of reassurance should steady him, but he still feels adrift like his land legs haven't kicked in just yet. The room around him sways, tilted on some unseen axis.

Then your hand reaches up to caress his face and all at once everything slows, stops. He's able to get his bearings, to orient himself again.

You are here and you are in his arms and he has you. His hands so versed in fighting are also made for holding.

He suddenly wants your weight. All of it. He wants you to sit on him, to straddle him.

He pulls you down onto the sofa in that exact position. You let out a surprised gasp at the unexpected speed at which he manhandles you onto his lap, but you go easily. Was it not you who just told him that in order to be himself he first had to identify his wants?

He wants whatever you'll give him. Anything you'll give him. If only he could find the words to tell you.

But you must understand what he wants because you kindly press your perspiring forehead against his. Of course you are fluent in sadness. This is a conversation easily had.

He hopes you kiss him. Anywhere. Everywhere.

And maybe, just maybe, he can be himself if it means he'll get to spend an eternity with you.

[idontknowmyownmind]

OG!Cale Fanfics Recommendation

COMPLETED

[og!Cale-centric] in accordance by pheenick 💝

[LCF] Love is gone by sleepycale 💝

[LCF] Are you saying Goodbye? by JadedMindscape

[og!AlCale] "Unexpected Meetings" - series by abralhugres

[og!AlCale] "dreams" - series by abralhugres

[og!AlCale] the root of the problem by abralhugres

His Majesty's Messenger by Aisha_mirai

A Man who had No Love by Justsamrandumbfujoshi

[og!Cale-centric] Forgive Dad by Verzy

[og!AlCale] Winter Affliction by abralhugres

[og!Cale-centric] the red means... [you belong to me] by Further_From_Humanity 💝

it's you by Milamimi

[og!AlCale] In another life by Verzy

[og!AlCale] don’t go where i can’t follow by shuangxuans 💝

[og!AlCale] a Lout and a Prince by abralhugres

[og!AlCale] the villainess gets revenge by abralhugres

[RokCale] feelings too strong to contain by abralhugres

[RokCale] Type of kisses by wifteria

[RokCale] Knock on the Coffin by esdegen 💝

[RokCale] Salvation & Sin by Luc_00 (Dawn_007)

[CJS x Heniroksoo] you drew stars around my scars (but now i’m bleeding) by todoloey

[og!AlCale] "Switched" - series by abralhugres

[og!Cale-centric] Nightmare in the Flesh by Verzy

Complicated by abralhugres

[Og!StarCale] Cry for me by wifteria 💝

[ROokCale] Why Cale Henituse can't leave the duchy by wifteria

[Og!AlCale] ( IF I AM THE SUN ) by AKingsAffection

[RokCale] the secrets we left under the distant sky by Luc_00 (Dawn_007)

[RokCale] You Are Mine by ThisIsVee 💝

ON-GOING

[LCF AlCale] Crown Prince's Rule Breaker by minamintsoo

[LCF x ORV] The Kimcom in Rowoon by Tsukki_yan 💝

[LCF x ORV] Crossing Paths by your_serialdreamer

One Bad End is Enough by AsterEfflores 💝

Can't an Old Man Die in Peace? by AsterEfflores

[og!Cale-centric] his brother's keeper by thursdays 💝

Cut Yourself On My Glass Plate by SkylerSkyhigh 💝

Open Your Eyes And Take A Look Around You. by VaraUser 💝

Reacting to Reading by Cortes01

Acquaint Fate by Unlucky_Cactus 💝

[LCF] Ancient Powers Hijack Cale's Body by mishamoonberry

[og!AlCale] Fuck our Problems by Verzy 💝

[og!AlCale] death is the only ending for the trash queen by abralhugres

[og!AlCale] crossed fates - series by abralhugres 💝

[og!AlCale] puppy love by abralhugres

[og!Cale-centric] Vermilion made of Cinnabar by PoisonousLana

[PolySoo x og!Cale] more is better ;D by abralhugres, small_mew 💝

[LCF x BNHA] BNHA react to TCF by KNX7

Hunter by Theta_Shi

[og!Cale-centric] OG!Cale receives a family by Verzy

The Silver Coin and The Pretty Rock by ThisIsVee 💝

This Time Around by ThisIsVee

everyone around him dies by abralhugres 💝

[og!ChoiCale] 그렇더라고요 (When You Love Someone) by mishamoonberry 💝

[og!AlCale] (what we lose in the fire) by AKingsAffection 💝

my world as i wish for by mishamoonberry 💝

Group Hug!!!! by squidballsinc

[RokCale] Damage control by Mir_Hope20 💝

Patchwork Soul by ThisIsVee 💝

Cale's Guide to Raising Your Yandere Brother by GingerVee (ThisIsVee), ThisIsVee 💝

End My Suffering Dear Duke! by Aceresa 💝

[RokCale] Everyone Deserves to be Loved by Loveable_Psychopath

[RokCale) Zenith of the Crimson Sun and the Obsidian Moon by Kimera20

I Reject The Maidens! by C0rr3ct 💝

[RokCale] Sleeping Partners (they really just sleep) by FollowerOfCaleism 💝

[RokCale] The Sun Proposed to the Moon by Nami_San18

Blood is Thicker than Wine by seasskies 💝

💝 The one I love the most ❤❤❤

This is my latest updated og!Cale fanfictions I've read

The one without [...] in front of its title means that the story /somehow/ involved both KRS and Cale

And, yes, I'm a hardcore og!AlCale and RokCale shipper

I do read some krs!Cale-centric fanfiction but when it come to LCF 'canon'-verse, I avoided E-rated and shippy ones and I don't usually bookmarked them

It's hard to find one to my liking because most M-rated and T-rated ones still with ships and s3xual content while there are few with those rates because of the theme or gore or language but most are not, so...

I like the light read ones, but most of the times I just want to read the heavy ones that without ships but those are so rare...

Idk whether you, @grumpywiltedlettuce, already read them or not but these are the one I like the most!!

Will updated if I found more!!

[bookshelf-in-progress]

The Beggar's Door: A Retelling of "King Thrushbeard"

Oh, yes, King Gregor had a temper, but in this case, it was more than justified. You see, the king had gone through all the expense of hosting an enormous ball so every eligible suitor on the continent could vie for the hand of Princess Dulcibella, and what do you think she did? Not smile and curtsey and thank them for the honor, that’s for sure. She rejected every man to his face! And not politely! The princess had a tongue like a whip, and she scourged those high and mighty men with every insult you can imagine before declaring she would have none of them as a husband. Some of them were on the verge of declaring war.

So none of us were surprised when King Gregor, in a towering rage, summoned Princess Dulcibella to the throne room the next morning.

Princess Dulcibella was a beautiful maid—fair and willowy—and she walked toward her father with as dainty a step and as innocent an air as any woman who ever lived, humming a traveling minstrel’s tune.

“Daughter,” the king declared. “I have brought you here to meet your husband.”

The princess stopped humming. “Tradition states that a crown princess may choose her own husband.”

“Tradition also states that if the princess refuses all her suitors, she is wed to the first man to come into the king’s presence.”

Princess Dulcibella’s lovely face paled. “You would not be so barbaric.”

“You have left me no other choice.” The king pointed to the grand doors through which the princess had entered—the only entrance that had been left unbarred. “Your husband—the man of my choosing—will enter through that door at the stroke of ten.”

Everyone knew who that would be—Baldric of Eldria, a brute and bore (and, some said, a usurper), but king of the wealthiest nation on the continent.

At his words, a door opened—but not the great door.

In a shadowed corner of the throne room, a forgotten, barely visible door swung open on rusted hinges.

The king whirled upon his chamberlain. “I said all the doors were to be barred!”

The chamberlain was deathly pale. “Tradition states that the beggar’s door can never be barred.”

An old tradition, the beggar’s door, one that said the poor must be able to approach their king for help in desperate need, or else the kingdom would fall. No one had used the door in generations—but the door had remained open.

Through that door came a ragged young man, tattered shoes on his feet and a lute on his back. With a smile, he bowed to the princess, as graceful as any courtier.

“My king and my lady,” he said. “If you can spare a coin for a starving minstrel, I would be glad to repay your kindness with a song.”

He had charm, that ragged clown, and probably a nice face somewhere under the layer of dirt.

Princess Dulcibella smiled upon him—men had crossed continents for that smile—and, in the sight of a stunned crowd in the throne room, the minstrel began to sing.

O, come away, my fine young maiden Though I’ve no place to call my own We’ll wander through the wooded valleys And make the wild world our home

You know the song, but you’ve never heard it as he sang it. He had a voice like love itself come to life—as if he’d come a-purpose for wooing. We all were spellbound. The princess was enchanted.

He sang a verse or ten, and when the song finally faded, the king was the first to remember the purpose of the day. For all the unexpected happenings, he hadn’t forgotten his rage. He’d lost his chance at an alliance, but his revenge upon an ungrateful daughter was still within reach.

“Minstrel,” he declared. “You’ve won more than a coin. According to tradition, you have my daughter as bride to wed.”

The priest emerged from behind the throne—intended for a far more royal wedding. In the sight of us all, the princess and the beggar were bound as man and wife.

“Now, be gone from my house!” the king declared. “You’re a beggar’s wife, now, and can have no place here.”

Dulcibella was stripped of her finery, but somehow she didn’t seem to mind.

The minstrel took her in his arms and carried her out the beggar’s door—gazing upon each other with as much devotion as if they were any ordinary pair of lovers.

With that, they disappeared. I’ve not seen either of them again.

But I’ve heard stories.

Dulcibella was clever, you see, and her maids tell stories of a minstrel who would sing near her window on moonlit nights.

Some say she told him of the beggar’s door.

Some even say that the minstrel was no minstrel at all, but young King Alaric, cast down from the throne of Eldria, living in exile until he can reclaim his throne.

I don’t know what to believe, but I like to believe she’s happy as a beggar’s wife, and I believe there’s no better woman to someday take a place as queen.

King Baldric had better take care.

[exhuastedpigeon]

Hiatus Buddie Fic Rec - Month 2 June 16 - July 15

Here's the second rec list! Here's my favourite fics that I've read that were posted between June 16 and July 15

0-5k

if your heart wears thin by devirnis / @devirnisGen | 986 words He knows the shift was disheartening, but the little rain cloud of gloom that’s been hanging over Buck’s head since he fell in the water has Eddie mildly concerned.

You with the dark curls, you with the watercolour eyes by thewolvesof1998 / @thewolvesof1998

Mature | 1.6k The morning after Buck and Eddie finally get together.

Stuck On You by rosebuddiekin / @giddyupbuck

Teen | 2.5k Eddie jokingly gives Buck stickers that have positive saying on them, but it quickly gets out of hand.

Not A Trick of the Mind (Only Love) by Bookbee, JJK / @trenchcoatsandtimetravel & @painting--words

Teen | 4.2k Buck wakes up in hospital with amnesia and thinks Eddie is married to someone else.

I could spend the whole day just gettin' by by rowan_wood / @transboybuckley Gen | 4.4k “I’m sick,” Buck said, eyes closed, when he could sense Eddie reached the loft. (Sick fic)

Find a remedy by BladeoftheNebula Teen | 4.7 Buck and Eddie tell Christopher they're dating. It doesn't go well.

5k-10k

Of Sound Mind (And Memory) by henry988

Not rated | 6k In the hours after Buck is struck by lightning, Maddie is faced with retrieving the last will and testament of her brother, just in case. Together, with Eddie, they learn more about their brother and friend.

give me a sign, I want you next to me by 42hrb Teen | 7k The 118 knows Buck has a really cute kid and a partner he loves, they just think that partner is his husbands ex-wife.

we don't need to play games like these (you won me long ago) by withmeornotatall / @chronicowboy Explicit | 10.4k five times buck was turned on by Eddie's complete lack of rizz and the one time he realised what his new kink was for

10k-20k

you been looking for love (let me show you how it's done) by wikiangela / @wikiangela Explicit | 12.2k Eddie is a tease, Buck is horny and jealous of Eddie dating, and a regular evening takes an unexpected turn.

Sixth time's the charm by CorgiQueen14 Teen | 14.2k The mid-lawsuit time loop fic.

20k - 30k

in the night we trust by glorious_spoon / @glorious-spoon

Explicit | 29.2k Eddie and Buck start sleeping together when they're all stuck at Buck's place during lockdown. It still takes them almost three years to notice that they're in love.

30k +

i know you're gone now, but i'll still wait for you by roephobic Teen | 32.1k the one where Buck leaves and Eddie breaks down.

you and i'll be safe and sound by spaceprincessem / @spaceprincessem

Teen | 50.8k buddie hunger games au

Evan Buckley & The Coma-Verse of Madness by Daisies_and_Briars / @cal-daisies-and-briars Teen | 57.9k After being struck by lightning on a call, Buck experiences a plethora of alternate realities showing him different directions his life could have taken. Fighting hard to get home, Buck learns what, or who, is important to him in every lifetime.

i love you (and i like you) by withmeornotatall / @chronicowboy Explicit | 64.4k he parks and rec au in which buck is leslie and eddie is ben feat. gay penguins

a body, a knife, hold steady by bvckandeddie (zukkababey) / @bvckandeddie Mature | 67.4k Buck and Eddie meet, fall in love, build a life together, and discover they're rival assassins—exactly in that order.