#when they find each other in every universe >>>>

[felinefractious]

[Image Source]

Gene Behind Orange Fur in Cats Found at Last

Shared from Science.org.

It would be pretty easy to guess that Garfield was a tomcat even if you didn’t know his name—or didn’t want to peek under his tail. Most orange cats are boys, a quirk of feline genetics that also explains why almost all calicos and tortoiseshells are girls.

Scientists curious about those sex differences—or perhaps just cat lovers—have spent more than 60 years unsuccessfully seeking the gene that causes orange fur and the striking patchwork of colors in calicos and tortoiseshells. Now, two teams have independently found the long-awaited mutation and discovered a protein that influences hair color in a way never seen before in any animal.

“I am fully convinced this is the gene and am happy,” says Carolyn Brown, a University of British Columbia geneticist who was not involved in either study. “It’s a question I’ve always wanted the answer to.”

Scientists have long been fascinated by tortoiseshell and calico cats: the offspring of a black cat and an orange cat. Multicolored cats from such a cross are almost always female, suggesting the gene variant that makes fur orange or black is located on the X chromosome. The male offspring of such a cross are typically unicolor because they inherit just one parent’s X chromosome: We can guess, for instance, that Garfield’s mother is orange because he inherited his only X chromosome from her.**

But female cats inherit an X chromosome from each parent. Cells don’t generally need both, so during embryonic development each cell randomly chooses one X to express genes from. The other chromosome rolls up into a mostly inert ball—a phenomenon called X inactivation. As a result, tortoiseshell cats end up with separate patches of black and orange fur depending on which chromosome was inactivated in that part of their skin. Calico cats add white fur into the mix because they have a second, unrelated genetic mechanism that shuts down pigment production in some cells.

In most mammals, including humans, red hair is caused by mutations in one cell surface protein, Mc1r, that determines whether skin cells called melanocytes produce a dark pigment or a lighter red-yellow pigment in skin or hair. Mutations that make Mc1r less active cause melanocytes to get “stuck” producing the light pigment.

But the gene encoding Mc1r didn’t seem explain where cats’ orange fur came from. It isn’t located on the X chromosome in cats or any other species—and most orange cats don’t have Mc1r mutations. “It’s been a genetic mystery, a conundrum,” says Greg Barsh, a geneticist at Stanford University.

To solve it, Barsh’s team collected skin samples from four orange and four nonorange fetuses from cats at spay-neuter clinics. As a proxy to determine how individual skin cells express genes, the researchers measured the amount of RNA that each melanocyte was producing and determined the gene it encoded. Melanocytes from orange cats, they found, made 13 times as much RNA from a gene called Arhgap36. The gene is located on the X chromosome, which led the team to think they had the key to orange color.

But when the researchers looked at Arhgap36’s genetic sequence in orange cats, they didn’t find any mutations in the DNA that encodes the Arhgap36 protein. Instead, they found the orange cats were missing a nearby stretch of DNA that didn’t affect the protein’s amino acid components but might be involved in regulating how much of it the cell produced. Scanning a database of 188 cat genomes, Barsh’s team found every single orange, calico, and tortoiseshell cat had the exact same mutation. The group reports the discovery this month on the preprint server bioRxiv.

A separate study, also posted to bioRxiv this month, confirms these findings. Similar experiments run by developmental biologist Hiroyuki Sasaki at Kyushu University and his colleagues revealed the same genetic deletion in 24 feral and pet cats from Japan, as well as among 258 cat genomes collected from around the world. They also found that skin from calico cats had more Arghap36 RNA in orange regions than in brown or black regions. Moreover Arhgap36 genes in mice, cats, and humans acquire chemical modifications that silence them on one of the two X chromosomes in females, Sasaki’s team documented, suggesting the gene is subject to X inactivation.

When Barsh and Sasaki learned their respective teams had discovered the same mutation, they decided to post their preprints at the same time. (Because they are preprints, neither study has been peer reviewed.) Both groups further found that increasing the amount of Arhgap36 in melanocytes activates a molecular pathway that switches the cells to producing light red pigment regardless of whether MC1r is active.

No one previously knew Arhgap36 could affect skin or hair coloration—it is involved in many aspects of embryonic development, and major mutations that affect its function throughout the body would probably kill the animal, Barsh says. But because the deletion mutation appears to only affect Arhgap36 function in melanocytes, cats with the mutation are not only healthy, but also cute.

Arhgap36’s inactivation pattern in calicos and tortoiseshells is typical of a gene on the X chromosome, Brown says, but it’s unusual that a deletion mutation would make a gene more active, not less. “There is probably something special about cats.”

Experts are thrilled by the two studies. “It’s a long-awaited gene,” says Leslie Lyons, a feline geneticist at the University of Missouri. The discovery of a new molecular pathway for hair color was unexpected, she says, but she’s not surprised how complex the interactions seem to be. “No gene ever stands by itself.”

Lyons would like to know where and when the mutation first appeared: There is some evidence, she says, that certain mummified Egyptian cats were orange. Research into cat color has revealed all kinds of phenomena, she says, including how the environment influences gene expression. “Everything you need to know about genetics you can learn from your cat.”

A Deletion at the X-linked Arhgap36 Gene Locus is Associated With the Orange Coloration of Tortoiseshell and Calico Cats

Molecular and Genetic Characterization of Sex-linked Orange Coat Color in the Domestic Cat

**Minor correction: Garfield’s mother could also have been a tortoiseshell.

[skywritingrambles]

OKAY BUT A FANFIC SHOWING SO MANY DIFFERENT VERSIONS OF JAYCE SHOWING VIKTOR THAT PEOPLE WILL LOVE HIM NOT INSPITE OF BUT REGARDLESS OF HIS DISABILITY. REGARDLESS OF WHAT HE'S DONE. REGARDLESS OF WHO HE'S BECOME. EACH AND EVERY UNIVERSE WHERE THEY FALL IN LOVE PLATONICALLY OR ROMANTICALLY AND SOMETIMES THE WORLD STILL ENDS BUT IT ALWAYS ENDS WITH THEM TOGETHER. IT DOESNT MATTER WHATS HAPPENING AROUND THEM BECAUSE THE TWO OF THEM ARE TOGETHER AND THEY'VE HEALED AND EVEN IF THE WORLD IS ENDING THEY ALWAYS HAVE NEXT TIME

Of course sometimes its so blindingly life altering for so many people. Sometimes it happens like it did in the show, where because Jayce got to Viktor when he did they saved the lives of all of Zaun and Piltover. But sometimes its something simple.

In the lab after Viktor has worked a long night, falling asleep slumped over the workbench, Jayce finding him that morning and they have a long conversation and they decide to let hextech go. In a world like the one where Ekko entered, where there was a tragedy and hextech was never authorized, but the two still meet, and simply become friends. Maybe lovers. As children, in a universe where Jayce and his mother end up in Zaun instead, and Jayce pushes Viktor to help him get rid of the poor beast Singed has been torturously keeping alive, and Shimmer is never created.

Ausshufiaoakab I love my boys. They're literally destined to find each other in every universe CANONICALLY.

I'll see you in a better tomorrow.

[anniebeemine]

lil thanksgiving day blurb<3

When Spencer agreed to join you for Thanksgiving, you were thrilled. It seemed like a great idea—two friends spending the holiday together, enjoying each other’s company. You’d always enjoyed Spencer’s company, his sharp wit and endless stream of fascinating facts. But it wasn’t until the morning of Thanksgiving that the full weight of what you were doing really hit you. This wasn’t just a casual get-together; it was Thanksgiving. A holiday. And suddenly, the whole thing felt a lot more intimate than you had anticipated.

The rest of the BAU had all scattered to spend the day with their families. Hotch had taken Jack to see his grandparents, JJ and Will were attending a big family dinner in Louisiana, and Rossi had some elaborate plans involving an old friend and an even older bottle of wine. Even Garcia, who you might have expected to be at a loose end, had a trip planned to some tropical destination.

That left you and Spencer, the only two without concrete plans. It hadn’t seemed like a big deal when you’d casually asked Spencer what he was doing for the holiday. You had fully expected him to say he was going to Las Vegas to visit his mom, Diana. But when he mentioned that his mom was on a cruise this year, your heart sank a little. You hadn’t considered the possibility that he might be alone.

Trying to keep your tone light, you asked, “So, what are you going to do?”

Spencer had shrugged, his usual nonchalant way of downplaying things that might be bothering him. “I don’t really have any plans,” he said. “I figured I’d just catch up on some reading or maybe organize my bookshelves. Nothing special.”

Your heart clenched at the thought of him spending Thanksgiving alone with a book. You knew how much he loved reading, but the holiday was supposed to be about warmth, connection, and being with people you cared about. Without thinking too much, you blurted out, “Why don’t you join me for Thanksgiving? I mean, it’s nothing fancy, but it’d be nice to have some company.”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, as if weighing the offer. “Are you sure?” he asked. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Of course I’m sure,” you replied, smiling to reassure him. “I’d love to have you.”

Panic set in as you realized you hadn’t really prepared for this. The idea of throwing together a simple meal now seemed woefully inadequate. You scrambled to put something together, rushing to the grocery store only to find it completely void of turkeys, which is ridiculous for the morning of the most turkey-centric holiday. It seemed the universe had conspired against your last-minute efforts. So, you grabbed a chicken instead, reasoning that it would have to do.

Back at home, you spent the rest of the morning in a flurry, trying to make everything perfect. You set the table, trying to strike a balance between casual and special, but as you laid out the dishes, the realization dawned on you: you were doing too much. The table looked like you were hosting a formal dinner, not just a simple meal with a friend. You started to feel self-conscious, like maybe you had jumped the gun, turning this into something more than what it was meant to be.

Just as you were second-guessing every decision you’d made, Spencer walked in. You turned to greet him, but the look on his face as he took in the table made your heart sink. You felt like you’d overdone it, pushed things too far too quickly. He looked surprised, maybe even a little overwhelmed, and you felt your cheeks flush with heat. Sweat trickled down the back of your neck, and you could feel your damp hair sticking to your forehead, a testament to the warm kitchen and your frantic efforts. One hand was still encased in an oven mitt, the other clutching your apron, which had absorbed some flour and grease from your earlier cooking. Before he could say anything, you blurted out an apology.

“Sorry, I think I might’ve gone a little overboard,” you said, fidgeting with the napkin in your hand. “I guess I got a bit carried away…”

You could feel your heart racing, and the heat of embarrassment mixed with the warmth of the kitchen made you feel even more flustered. You were worried he’d think you were trying too hard or that you were making a bigger deal out of this than it was supposed to be. The casual vibe you had envisioned seemed to have evaporated into something more formal, and now you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d overstepped.

Spencer blinked, then looked down at the flowers he was holding. He gave you a small, awkward smile. “I was actually worried these might be too much,” he admitted, handing them to you.

You both stood there for a moment, each uncertain of how the other would react, but then you both laughed—soft and relieved. The tension eased, and suddenly, it all felt okay. It wasn’t about overdoing it or trying too hard. It was about the two of you, together, making the best of what could have been a lonely holiday.

“You didn’t overdo it,” he reassured you, his voice warm and sincere. “It’s perfect.”

With a smile, you took the flowers from him, your earlier worries fading away. They were a beautiful mix of colors—deep reds, bright yellows, and a few delicate whites—and they instantly brightened the room. You placed them on the table, feeling a sense of satisfaction as they added a lovely touch to the already charming setting. Maybe it wasn’t the most traditional Thanksgiving, but it was yours, and in that moment, it felt just right.

[ezziedoodles]

Why Season 2 Of Arcane Felt A Little Off

Let me preface this by saying I adore this show, and I loved this season. I laughed, I cried, and I had a good time watching it. The art direction and animation is a masterpiece. This is probably my favorite show, but I think it's good to critique the things you love and this entire season I felt like I was waiting for something.

For a show titled Arcane, season one had remarkably little to do with the arcane. Yes, there was Hextech and magic, but the show was centered on this class divide between Piltover and Zaun and all the conflicts that stem from this. The very first scene of the show is enforcers killing citizens on the bridge, with Powder and Vi finding their dead parents' bodies. Zilco's reasoning for doing anything he did was because he believed he was helping Zaun, including raising Jinx the way he did. Vi was so passionate about her city and the injustice facing it. Caitlyn witnessing this injustice is what causes her to question the systems she is a part of. Viktor and Jayce (but especially Viktor) created technology with the intention of wanting to improve life for the undercity. Ekko is a revolutionary doing so much to give his people a community and a chance to live their lives. My point is literally every single character is connected by this conflict between the cities.

Now let's take a look at the second season. Where is this part of the story that was so essential to the first season? There's a brief revolutionary beat with Jinx and her followers but once they escape from prison, the show moves on from this and never touches it again. We see Caitlyn's descent into corrupt madness, becoming everything she and Vi wanted to stop. Eventually she realizes how wrong she was but do we see her make any reparations to Zaun specifically for the damage she caused? She gassed the city, poisoning the air even further (with gas that has been confirmed to make people sick in the long run), harming hundreds of innocent people. And Vi, a character so vehemently against enforcers in the first season, goes along with this for how long? Days? Weeks? And only stops when she can visually see the impact of Caitlyn's madness as she almost kills a child in front of her. These characters are flawed and I love that, but we see them get their happy ending without ever truly addressing or helping with what they did to Zaun.

Ekko sees an alternate universe of everything his city could be, everything they all wanted so badly in the first season. Equality, safety, education, food security, and more. He says he is thankful for the reminder and I fully believe he will go forth with this vision in mind, but do we ever see it? And that right there is the problem. We don't know what happens to Zaun in the end, we don't know if things get better. All we see is Sevika on the council but we don't know if that will fix anything since people have stood up for the undercity in council before and it did nothing.

I want to see Ekko rally his people and repair the damage caused by the war. I want to see Vi open up the last drop and make it what it was always meant to be, a place of community. I want to see schools open in the undercity in honor of Viktor and Jayce. I want to see the two cities heal from the damage done to each other. Fuck it, I just want literally any closure on this plotline! Just tack on a 2 minute montage of what happened to this city after the war and I'd feel a little better. But instead this part of the story was completely sidelined throughout the season and ignored entirely in the finale. I'm not someone that thinks every story needs to have a moral, but this show was trying to tell us something! The first season was screaming from the rooftops to beware of privilege, beware systemic oppression, to fight inequality, and I find it really sad that there was no conclusion for that.

I do wish there had been three seasons to give it a smoother transition form politics to magic but it is what it is. Nothing is perfect. This season gave me so much including the best depiction of soulmates I've ever seen in my life so you win some you lose some ig.

[little-jana]

"In the Depths of Thoughts"

Part 2

Pairing: Spencer Reid x f!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none

Words: 950

Summary: Reader forms a quiet, emotional connection with Spencer as they work together on a case.

It was an ordinary day in the office of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, yet everything felt different. The flickering screen in front of me, the quiet conversations of the other team members, the soft clicks of keyboards – all of it was background noise in a symphony of thoughts that only I seemed to hear. And my thoughts, they belonged only to him.

Spencer Reid.

He sat there, at his usual spot, which wasn’t just his corner of the office but the center of my universe. It was hard to explain why, but every time I looked at him, it felt like time slowed down. Like every moment I spent in his presence was more precious than the last.

I knew how he thought. I understood the way he immersed himself in his books, the way he used words to explain the world as though it were an endless puzzle only he could grasp in its depth. He was so brilliant, so unique – and so incredibly vulnerable.

Lately, I’d caught myself sneaking glances at him more than once. The way he talked to the others, how his hands moved when he developed a theory that seemed incomprehensible to most of us but was so natural to him. It was almost as if I could physically feel the flow of his thoughts moving through his body, as though his intelligence was a tangible presence.

“Have you gone through the new profile?” I suddenly heard his voice behind me. It was calm, almost too calm, as if he didn’t want to disturb me. I turned around and met his gaze. For a moment, I was frozen. It was as if his eyes were piercing right through me, as if he could read what I couldn’t bring myself to say.

“Yeah, I just finished it,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady and professional. But it was difficult when his gaze, that penetrating gaze, was so intense. The way he looked at me wasn’t uncomfortable. On the contrary, it was almost as if he was discovering me – me, not just as a colleague but as something much deeper. Something I couldn’t name, but that rose within me every time he was near.

“Good,” he said with a faint smile, which only amplified his shy charm. “If you want, we can go through it together. Maybe you’ll find something I missed.” It was the way he said it – calm, yet so inviting – that I couldn’t resist agreeing.

We sat together at a table, the screen between us, but in that moment, it felt as though everything else around us faded. Only he and I. I could feel the quiet presence of his nearness, the subtle shift in his body as he searched for his thoughts. It was almost as though we were engaged in a silent conversation – a conversation without words. Our eyes met again and again, and with each glance, something unspoken seemed to pass between us – an unspoken connection that I couldn’t explain but that was drawing me in more and more.

“You know,” he suddenly began, his voice quieter, “I admire how you always stay so calm. You have a way of interacting with people that I don’t have. I... I often don’t understand what goes on in people’s heads. But with you, you have such a calmness that I somehow... admire.” His words hit me like a soft blow to the stomach. I wasn’t sure if he realized what he had just said, but it felt like he was breaking down a wall – a wall that stood between us.

I could feel my heart racing as I looked into his eyes. “Spencer,” I whispered, “you’re… so much more than you think. You’re extraordinary. You see the world in a way no one else can. Your intelligence is... overwhelming. But it’s your empathy that really sets you apart. You understand people in a way that you might not even realize.” I paused, unsure if I should say more, but I couldn’t stop myself from continuing. “You’re not just the brilliant investigator who finds the answers. You’re someone who can delve into the deepest corners of the human mind without ever losing your humanity.”

For a moment, it was silent. The words I had spoken hung between us, floating like a delicate thread in the air. Then, slowly, almost from a distance, I felt his hand on mine. It was a careful, almost hesitant touch – but it was there. It was as if, in that moment, he allowed himself to be something more. More than just the brilliant, fact-driven agent. More than just the quiet man who never knew how to open up to others.

“I...,” he began, his voice faltering. “I don’t know how to explain it, but... sometimes I feel like I’m lost in a world of data. Like I only understand life through theories and formulas. But you... you’ve shown me that there’s more. That there are moments that can’t be captured by calculations.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “I... I appreciate that more than you can imagine.”

His words hit me, and without hesitation, I squeezed his hand. “Spencer,” I said softly, “you’re not alone. Not in your world of numbers, of theories. I’m here. I’ll always be here to remind you that there’s more – more than just the facts.”

And in that moment, as time seemed to stand still, I knew there was something between us that went beyond words. Something we both understood, but never needed to speak aloud. A bond stronger than any calculation.

Part 2

[cherricola-star]

Good girl

Of course you're his good girl you'd do anything to please him, Anything.

Tags: Afab!reader, Dom!Bangchan, Sub!reader, Daddy kink, cumming inside (protection pleeeease), squirting, cunnilingus, piv, Age gap (like 5 yrs dw), dirty talk, Chan is big (obvi), groping...etc

Word count: 2.2k

Posted: 11.26.24

Smut under the cut

How could you ever disobey your love? He did spoil you with many things, after all: love, lavish gifts, emotional support, and amazing sex. Honestly, you don't understand how you could have ever upset your beautiful husband. Well, that is what you're currently asking yourself. You couldn't help it; you were needy, and he was home because of his occupation.

You’ve been a stay-at-home wife for a while now after meeting Chan straight after graduation from your university at an after-party held by one of the previous graduates since their younger sibling happened to be in your graduating year. You still remember meeting him for the first time. How could you forget? He may not have been the tallest but his blonde hair, plush lips, strong jaw and adorable dimples were drawing you in like a moth to a flame. You couldn’t resist, especially not when he spotted you in the crowd.

He approached you and struck up a conversation asking you if you were a graduate and what your major was in. You learned some things about him too, like the fact that he was 5 years older than you with a house, car, and a well-paying job. God you never thought a grown man with a mortgage and his life figured out would turn you on so bad but you couldn’t help it you’ve always been a daddy’s girl.

This small interaction led to you getting to know each other even more with him courting you until you signed that marriage certificate promising to be with him through sickness and health.

The stay-at-home wife part came much later, about 2 years into your marriage when he came home to you and there was a home-cooked meal for him. After a bit of begging, you gave in and decided to quit your job, not like you enjoyed it anyway, but it was one of the best decisions you’ve made.

Chan was always busy with work but, it never bothered you since he still took you out on dates and spoiled you with sex and vacations whatever he had his days off but now he was on one of his business trips for his company and it was supposed to be a week long.

A whole week, how could you wait that long without an orgasm? Your sex life had never been put on such a long hiatus, the most being 3 days max but a week? You didn't know if you would survive. One of your favourite parts of the marriage was and is your sex life. He was so attentive and firm, he never made you feel unsatisfied, always making sure you came before anything else but there was one rule he had for you. Don’t cum without daddy.

You’ve followed these rules fairly well save for the few times where you disobeyed just for the fun of fucking around and finding out but now? You’ve been on a dry spell for 5 days and still had another 2 to go. You weren't a nympho at least you tried not to be but honestly, you couldn’t help it with a man like yours every time you weren’t on him was when you were either asleep or he was at work and it wasn’t your fault either, not when he was so graciously blessed with something you wanted in your mouth 24/7.

You glanced at the clock to see it was 1:30 am and all you’d been doing was fighting the urge to indulge in your impulsive thoughts but as time went on you began to realise. Nobody is home and it's the middle of the night one orgasm wouldn’t hurt especially in the dark. You made up your mind and turned to your favourite position to masturbate which was face down and ass up. You loved the way you felt spread like this and that when your legs gave out you’d fall onto your hand to continue to play with yourself even in overstimulation.

You pull up your nightgown and spread your legs, having forgotten underwear since you were too lazy to put on a pair earlier. Your fingers started to rub at your clit, stimulating you further and pushing you to continue. Your fingers move from your clit to in between your slick folds to gather your arousal to continue to rub at your sensitive bundle of nerves. You had never been loud while masturbating this time you decided there was no harm in letting out sweet breathy moans since nobody was around to hear them anyway. You move your fingers to prod at your entrance while you start to think about how upset your husband would be if he saw you right now but instead of stopping it turns you on even more causing you to slip both fingers in to find your sweet spot.

Finding your g-spot you start to massage the soft spot bringing your breathy moans to light whining while thoughts of your husband spurred you on to continue. Lost in your self-pleasure while still being in a dark room you don’t seem to recognize another presence in the room with you at the same time. You feel two warm hands on the globes of your ass causing you to let out a scream and retract your hand from your drenched pussy.

“Shhh careful baby you might hurt yourself.” You heard the voice of your husband right against your ear and tried to steady your breathing and steady your heartbeat.

“What were you doing in the dark baby? Surely you weren’t being naughty and violating my rules were you?”

You’re fucked, completely and utterly fucked. He wasn’t supposed to be home this soon, never mind this late at night. Your thoughts are dragging you into your world before your husband’s voice pulls you out again.

He continues to massage your ass while speaking “And here I thought I could surprise my beautiful wife by coming home early and having her wake up to me but instead I get a brat playing with her naughty pussy without her Daddy’s permission. What should I do with you?”

You break out in a whine due to your neediness and the lack of stimulation on your aching core. You feel his hand slide from your ass to spread your further to look at your dripping centre before blowing on it causing you to squeal. He pulls away and you push your ass back to seek him out again craving his touch on you again.

“Please please please Channie needs you so bad... Didn’t have you for so long couldn’t help myself”, you plead with him raising up your body with your arms to turn around and look at his shaded silhouette in the dark room. He lets on a chuckle before putting a warm hand on the centre of your back and pushing you back down into an arch. You feel his warm breath near your sopping wet cunt before he speaks again “Im sorry baby shouldn’t have left my needy girl alone for so long but don't worry I'll make it up to you,” He licks his warm silky tongue against your wet cunt dragging out a long deep moan from you. You weren’t sure if you wanted to cry from the pleasure or relief of knowing that you were going to be able to cum regardless you loved the feeling as his soft thick plush lips latched on to your swollen clit to such on it before moving them to your entrance to suck and lick at that as well.

That warm feeling of your orgasm warns you of its incoming presence and you push yourself further back on his face as he tongue fucks you. “Fuck such a needy baby,” he pulls away forbore turning you onto your back to resume his activities from earlier while he put your legs over his shoulders. The new angle had him ravishing you more intensely than the previous one with his tongue licking aggressively at your clit before switching back to sucking on it. The pleasure was borderline overwhelming with you giving broken breathy moans and your nails digging into his scalp to pull him closer.

“M’ Gonna cum” You whine. Chan doesn’t stop, instead continuing to lick and suck with more intensity than before. You feel that thigh band snap and you cream all over his tongue as he licks up your arousal before sitting back on his knees. You pant trying to get your breath back after that leg-numbing orgasm while Chan takes off his clothing.

You look at his naked body in all of its glory admiring every curve and lean cut of muscle. He was so perfect that you sometimes had a hard time believing he was your husband. As your eyes continue to wander you look at his v-line following down to his cock. It was one of the prettiest ones you’ve ever seen really, it was pretty and veiny with a pink tip, a girth that would leave you aching all day and a length that would either gently or brutally kiss your cervix every time you two got intimate. You truly loved his cock and if the situation was different you’d no doubt have it in your mouth right now sucking and licking it to your heart's content.

You watch him reposition himself between your legs and spread them wide to look at your puffy blushed cunt as he takes one hand to rub through your wet folds again causing you to buck your hips. He takes his slicked-up finger and rubs them up and down his shaft getting it wet so it’s easier for you to take him.

You look up at him with pleading eyes silently begging him to give you his cock. “Is my baby that desperate?” he slaps his cock on your pussy a couple of times before sliding it between your folds and rubbing his tip on your clit simultaneously. You hump yourself onto his cock begging for him to stop teasing you and to just put it in. He seems to pick up on your non-verbal begging and decides to take mercy on you and slams his cock into your tight pussy.

As if all the air is knocked out of your body your eyes roll to the back of your head as you cream on his cock just from that forceful entry. He stares at you in disbelief, shocked that you came before he could even get 3 thrusts in. He pulls his cock out to thrust it in shallowly before you whine from overstimulation.

“Don’t be like that love, Daddy has to come too. You wouldn't want to be the only one having fun huh?”, You shake your head in response and he smirks at you “Good girl, you'll let me do anything right,” You nod your head in response “so you'll let me use this cute pussy until I cum?” You give him your verbal consent knowing that he wouldn’t continue if you didn’t respond without words. He takes your consent and slowly starts to thrust back into you slowly picking up speed as he does.

.

.

.

You've had more orgasms since and your poor cunt was being constantly bullied with your husband's fat cock which in turn was causing you to continuously clench around him. “Such a good girl f’me letting me use her till I come,” you gasp as one particular trust hits a little too deep. “Too much.” you slur out and you don’t know if you have any more in you, “Just one more baby you can do it.” he encourages you to hold on for one more. He takes your legs, puts them over his shoulders and grabs your hips to slightly elevate your lower body. This new position and his new vigorous speed have you seeing stars. His hard cock bullying your soft spongy walls now felt way more intense and made you clench uncontrollably on him making him whisper out curses.

“Fuck you’re so fucking tight for me. Daddy’s gonna come soon yeah? He’s gonna ruin this pretty pussy with his cum yeah?" You whine at his vulgar words as you feel your final orgasm coming on. He impossibly picks up his pace hitting that sweet spot continuously before you scream out your orgasm. Though, this time instead of creaming on his cock you squirt all over him which in turn causes him to cum deep inside of your abused cunt. He leans down and takes your lips in a soft wet kiss nipping at your bottom lip.

He pulls back and lets his softening cock slip out and with it his cum. He chuckles at your ruined state before leaving the bedroom to gather your aftercare kit and a bottle of water. He returns and takes the wipes to wipe you clean while whispering sweet words of praise and love before giving you the water to drink. Once you were finished he laid you down and cuddled behind you giving delicate kisses to your lower neck. He pulls back and leans over to your ear giving a light whisper “Next time I catch you paying with yourself like a whore, I won't be so fucking nice.”

You smile to yourself knowing exactly what you were going to do the next time he had a business trip before drifting off to sleep.

Hi guys I have a new one shot again. Please be sure to interact because Ik I tend to forget after reading a fic. Have a lovely day/night until next time.🍒

[alwritey-aphrodite]

Pumpkin Pie

Pairing: dad!Peter x mom!reader

Part of the Charlie May Universe

Word Count: 1.6k

Author’s Note: Thanksgiving is a shit holiday to me for a variety of reasons, but I really am incredibly thankful for each and every one of you, and I’m so grateful for this wonderfully lovely little space on the internet <3

“I don’t know how you talked me into this,” you whisper in the quiet of your kitchen, the sun just beginning to rise over the New York skyline. You’re still in your pajamas because of the ungodly hour, but Peter doesn’t even try to quiet his scoff from where he’s making your coffee. You smile as he hands you the mug, the picture of innocence, even though you know he’s tried over and over to tell you this was not a smart idea.

It doesn’t matter how many Thanksgivings find you seated at May’s kitchen table or how many times she tells you there’s no need for you to bring anything other than yourself, you always feel a gnawing sense of guilt showing up empty handed. This year you were determined to change that, telling her months ago that you would bring dessert, neglecting to account for how difficult it was to make a homemade treat with a toddler running around, who refuses to allow you to spend any significant amount of time in the kitchen making something she wouldn’t be able to eat right away. So, after days and days of trying and failing to get the baking done, you decided it would be easiest to wake up early on Thanksgiving morning and get everything done then, before the sun came up and Charlie woke up, your sweet daughter nothing short of an absolute monster in the mornings.

It’s peaceful, just you and Peter in the semi-darkness, held safely in the warm glow of your kitchen while the rest of the world seems to sleep. Even so, you’re half asleep, having debated over and over with yourself when the alarm went off if you really wanted to get out of your nice, warm, cozy bed, before your determination won over and you managed to rally yourself, slipping out of bed and bracing for the shocking chill that awaited you when you threw off the blankets. You tried to be as silent as possible, and you managed to make it all the way to the kitchen and flick on the flights before Peter joined you, hair and pajamas adorably rumpled.

“What’re you doing?” You ask, as quietly as possible, making your way to the fridge to start gathering your ingredients while Peter heads straight for the coffee maker.

“What’re you doing?” He throws right back, opening the cabinet where you keep your mugs as silently as possible, both of you knowing even in your sleep-addled state that waking Charlie had to be avoided at all costs.

“Making a pie,” you respond, much too tired for any of your usual snark or sarcasm, and trying desperately hard to focus on gathering all the correct ingredients.

“Yeah, that makes sense, I forget everyone wakes up at four in the morning to bake pies,” his voice is dripping with equal parts sarcasm and affection, and if your brain wasn’t still starting up, you’d find something to throw at the back of his head as he turns towards the coffee pot.

You finish setting out all your ingredients, thanking the universe for whoever invented premade pie dough before turning your focus to the recipe you’d chosen, staring with such intensity it’s like you’re preparing for a test. It promises to be exceptionally easy and perfect for beginners, and you’re equal parts curious and anxious to see just how true that is.

Peter finishes his first cup of coffee and pours himself another before joining you by the countertop, ready to help without you even needing to ask. It’s not often that the two of you have so much uninterrupted time together, especially for cooking or baking together, and there’s something so lovely about it, even as you constantly feel like one long blink is going to send you back to bed. The two of you work well together, you always have, and you fit together seamlessly in the space, mostly silent as you both bask in the early morning glow of the sun, just starting to peek its way around New York City’s skyscrapers. Even with the added light, the city looks drowsy and cold, the perfect weather for staying inside and eating all day long, the gold of the sun matching perfectly with the jewel-toned leaves as they fall from the trees in shades of red and orange and yellow, making way for the snow you know is sure to come.

The baking goes quickly with the two of you working in tandem, and soon the pie is being slid into the oven and you’re hoping and praying that it turns out okay, that it’s edible at the very least, but you have high hopes.

“How long do you think we have until Charlie gets up?” You ask as you pick up your mug, the kitchen awash in the golden light. There’s a creaking of a door and a patter of footsteps and within seconds your daughter appears in the kitchen, looking so rumpled from sleep she might as well have just survived a fight with a bear.

Despite her consistently sour moods in the mornings, you always find her especially precious, with her wild hair sticking up every which way and her little body still warm from sleep. She reminds you so much of Peter, with her messy hair and her tiny little frown as she waits for her breakfast, and especially in the way she shovels cereal into her mouth like she’s been deprived of food for the last thirty years, her spoon in a vice grip. The kitchen’s a mess, ingredients and bowls and spoons all over the counter, and you know you should clean it, but instead you take a seat at the kitchen table across from your daughter, trying to hide your laughter at the enthusiastic way she eats.

Even though you should clean the kitchen, and then wrangle Charlie into getting dressed and brushing her hair, and then get ready yourself, none of that seems very important with the three of you quiet in the kitchen, the whole apartment filled with calm and the scent of pumpkin pie. It’s beyond peaceful, and you’re so full of love and adoration for your little family, for your cozy apartment, for your wonderfully quiet life you’re almost certain you’re going to explode because it doesn’t seem possible for one body to be able to contain so much affection. You’re just absolutely bursting with all of the warm, fuzzy feelings that always seem impossible to name, so instead you rise for your chair and lean across the kitchen table to plant a kiss on Charlie’s forehead before taking her bowl for her, even though she’s normally supposed to clear her own plate.

“What was that for?” Your daughter asks, confused but delighted at the series of events that just took place, grateful for the temporary relief from her typical chores and always appreciative of any sort of affection.

“Just because I love you,” you shrug as you start on the dishes, and as you turn towards the skin, you feel a little body collide with your legs.

“Well, I love you too,” she says, wrapping her little arms around your knees and giving you a squeeze before she runs off again, never one to dwell on a moment for too long.

“Do you think she’ll let me put a bow in her hair?” You ask Peter, who’s finally consumed enough coffee to be a mostly functioning person and has taken over drying the dishes as you wash. You spare a quick glance towards you daughter, lounging on the couch and engrossed in cartoons with the worst case of bed-head you’ve ever seen. Charlie’s always been headstrong, and she doesn’t typically enjoy having you do elaborate hairstyles on her, not because she doesn’t like the way they look but because the process is excruciating for her, sitting still with no wiggle room. You’ve tried everything to make the process more enjoyable for her, like having her sit in front of the TV while you brush out her hair or some slight bribery, but so far, nothing has been successful. But, you have a gut feeling that she’ll allow it today, especially if you move as quickly as possible.

“If she does, I’ll let you sleep in tomorrow when she wants to drag you out of bed to decorate for Christmas,” he responds, and you know by that answer that he has little faith in you. Charlie has been desperate to decorate for Christmas since the moment she returned from trick or treating, but in keeping with the themed activities she does in her kindergarten class, you’d decided to hold off on getting festive until after Thanksgiving. In Charlie’s mind, that meant the second Thanksgiving was over, and all she'd been talking about for weeks was how excited she was for Thanksgiving, when really what she meant was she was excited for Thanksgiving to be over so it could be Christmastime, and really, you couldn’t blame her.

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” you tell Peter, finishing the dishes before leaving him to deal with taking the pie out of the oven while you try and coax your daughter off the couch and into her room to get ready for the day.

You’ve never wished for a camera more in your life than the moment you and Charlie emerge from her bedroom, her with a high ponytail and a bow stuck firmly to the center of her head to capture Peter’s expression of pure disbelief that you’d somehow convinced your finicky daughter to wear a hair accessory. Sure, you’d had to bribe her with leftover pie for breakfast tomorrow, but he never has to know that. All that matters is that Charlie looks as cute as always and has no complaints about her hairstyle, and that you’ve managed to secure yourself a morning to sleep in, at least until the sun rises.

Tags: @funktchonalhuman3

[supercorpkid]

The Best Kind of Trouble - part 1

Supergirl. Lena Luthor x Reader! Kara Danvers. Alex Danvers.

Word Count: 3645.

The other part is coming soon.

Ever since you met Lena, the two of you have had a knack for stumbling into the strangest situations together. It’s almost like the universe has a sense of humor at your expense. But every time it happens, you find yourself quietly asking: How did we get here?

Take the first time you met her. It was Alex’s birthday, and she’d dragged everyone out to a bar she swore was ‘low-key and chill’, but turned out to be neither. You exchanged a soft hey with Lena when Kara introduced you, your eyes flickering up just long enough to clock how ridiculously stunning she was before quickly looking away. She was nice, but that was it. 

And yet, by the end of the night, you found yourself sitting on her lap.

It wasn’t like you’d planned it, obviously. Everyone was too wasted to drive, and when you were all cramming into the car, someone pointed out there weren’t enough seats for everyone to sit properly. As the smallest person in the group, the solution seemed obvious to them—if not to you. Not Alex’s lap, because her girlfriend might have something to say about that. Not Kara’s, because she’d called shotgun before anyone could argue. And not Nia’s, because Brainy would enjoy less than someone splitting an atom incorrectly.

So there you were, perched awkwardly on Lena’s thighs as the car lurched into motion. Her hand rested on the edge of the seat, close enough that you could feel the warmth of her skin through your jeans. It was fine. A bit uncomfortable, sure. And definitely weird. But fine. At least until Kelly hit a pothole, and your body jolted against hers, leaving you both a little too aware of how close you actually were.

The second time you meet, it’s just you and Lena—stuck in an elevator at the DEO. The system glitches mid-maintenance, and before you can process what’s happening, the elevator groans to a stop. You and Lena exchange wide-eyed glances.

“At least we’re not free-falling,” Lena quips, though the sheen of sweat on her brow betrays her ease.

You press the emergency call button. After a pause, Alex’s voice cracks through the speaker. “What’s up?” she asks casually, like it isn’t a full-blown crisis.

“We’re stuck,” Lena steps closer to the panel, her voice calm but sharp. “Care to fix that before this turns into a sauna?”

“Oh, yeah,” Alex replies, like she just remembered. “Tech says it’s a quick fix. A few minutes, tops.”

Lena arches a skeptical brow at the speaker. “A few minutes,” she repeats, unimpressed.

“Promise,” Alex’s smirk is practically audible. “Try not to kill each other.”

The line clicks off, leaving silence. You sigh and lean against the wall. A few minutes stretch into twenty. The air thick, hot, and stifling, makes Lena shrug off her blazer, folding it neatly as she leans back against the opposite wall.

“You should lose the jacket,” she suggests casually, adjusting the collar of her blouse.

You hesitate but eventually give in. The all-black uniform feels unbearable, and you pull it off, revealing a thin, sweat-soaked white tank top beneath—and yes, you’re aware it’s completely see-through. Lena’s gaze lingers a second too long, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

“What?” you ask, your voice tighter than you’d like.

“Nothing,” she murmurs, her tone softer. “You’re just really flushed. You alright?”

“Really hot circumstances, you know,” you reply quickly, and the instant the words leave your mouth, you regret them. The double meaning isn’t lost on her, and her smile deepens.

“Do tell.” Her gaze flicks back to the floor a beat too late.

Alex’s voice breaks in, unprompted. “Sorry, guys. A few more minutes. But hey, silver lining—you’ve got each other!”

Lena closes her eyes briefly, her fingers gripping the panel’s edge. “Wonderful. Thanks, Alex.”

Lena mutters, the words like a half-hearted attempt at dismissal. Her gaze lingers on you a second too long, and there’s a flicker of something in her eyes—a warmth that doesn’t quite match the cool distance she’s trying to keep.

“Anytime,” Alex chirps, clearly ignoring the sarcasm, before the line clicks dead.

Lena moves back to the wall—closer this time. Her arm brushes yours, the touch fleeting but enough to send a shiver down your spine despite the oppressive heat.

She starts a soft conversation to pass the time, but every glance she steals, every movement she makes, feels like static in the air. Her hand brushes yours again, and this time neither of you pulls away.

The air between you shifts. You meet her gaze, and Lena meets yours, her eyes darker and deeper than you’ve ever seen. For a heartbeat, it’s just her. Just the heat of her gaze.

Then the elevator jolts, snapping the moment like a rubber band. Lena straightens her blouse, retrieves her blazer, and slips back into her usual composure like armor.

“Well,” her lips curl into a faint smile, “let’s not make a habit of only meeting in these weird situations.”

You nod, following her out into the cool hallway, but the memory of her gaze lingers—along with the heat that has nothing to do with the elevator.

And then, it does become a habit.

There’s the storm during a game night at Kara’s apartment. The power goes out, and everyone splits up to search for flashlights. Somehow, you and Lena end up fumbling in the same closet, searching for batteries. It’s pitch black, the kind of darkness that muffles everything, even the sound of your own breath.

Your hands brush—once, then again—and you freeze. The silence between you feels deafening, and just as your breath catches, Lena breaks it with a low, teasing murmur. “Should I be worried you keep trying to hold my hand?”

It’s playful. Too playful. But the words hang in the air like an open challenge, and you can’t quite laugh the way you want to. Instead, your breath stops, and that awkward sound you make isn’t nearly enough to push the tension away.

It only makes it worse. You can feel the charge between you, an electric hum that shivers down your spine. It wraps around your chest, your pulse racing with it. Then, just as the moment is about to consume you, the lights flicker back on. The sudden brightness stings your eyes, and it’s like the world has slapped you back into reality.

You blink, disoriented, standing there in the small closet, the air between you still heavy and thick. Too close. You’re too close.

“Look at us,” Lena whispers, breath hot on your face. “Stuck together somewhere small and hot.” Her words roll out slowly, like she’s savoring them. “It agrees with you.”

The words settle on your skin like a flame, and your throat goes dry, your chest tight. You stay frozen in place, unable to form the words that might undo whatever she just implied. She steps out of the closet, leaving you standing there, the heat of her words still burning into your skin.

Small and hot. Was she talking about you?

Of course, you’re roped into helping Nia move into Brainy’s new place. The apartment is a disaster zone—boxes everywhere, and Brainy’s color-coded system only makes things worse. The real issue? The couch. An L-shaped monstrosity that refuses to budge no matter what you do.

Alex is running late, Kara has a Supergirl emergency, and Brainy has to leave too. So now it’s a five-person job being executed by you.

Just as you’re about to lose your mind, Lena breezes in, taking in the chaos. “What on Earth are you doing?”

“Fighting for my life,” you say, sweat dripping.

She steps closer, looking annoyingly perfect in her blouse and jeans. “It looks like you’re losing.”

“Glad you could join us. Came to judge, or help?”

“You know I love watching people fail,” Lena smirks, crouching by the couch. “Have you tried taking the legs off?”

“The legs?” You narrow your eyes. “That’s your solution?”

“It’s called problem-solving,” she says, inspecting the bolts with an infuriatingly calm precision. “You should try it sometime.”

You grab the screwdriver. “Fine. Let’s see if your genius plan works.”

It works. Because Lena is a genius. An annoyingly pretty, rich, flirty genius. But it works at the expense of her being so close to you, you can’t think straight—pun intended. Her perfume is maddeningly pleasant, and her eyes are provocatively distracting. It works at the expense of your sanity.

“You’re blushing,” she teases.

“No, I’m sweating,” you snap, looking away.

When the move is over, Alex strolls in with a six-pack, pretending she didn’t miss all the hard work. You're annoyed, but then Lena leans in beside you, her shoulder brushing yours. “We work well together, don’t you think?”

And somehow, you’re not mad anymore.

Once again, you're dragged into something you have no business being a part of. Kara needed help with a DEO tech project, and as you step into the lab, it hits you—you’re the only uniformed officer here. The other two? Alex and Lena. Of course.

“Kara? Why am I here?” you ask, already suspicious.

“We need the brightest minds for this!” Kara beams.

You arch an eyebrow. “Yeah? Then why am I here?”

Lena chuckles softly, her gaze sweeping over you with a hint of mischief. “Come on, Y/N. You’re smarter than you think.”

It takes you a second to process the unexpected compliment. You snort, trying to play it off. “If you say so.”

Before you can protest further, Alex’s phone buzzes, and her face shifts into full-on mission mode. “Crisis. Gotta go.”

“Wait, you’re leaving us?” Unbelievable. Somehow, you’re always the one stuck with Lena. And, annoyingly, it secretly thrills you.

“We trust you two,” Kara says with a reassuring pat on your arm before she and Alex rush out the door.

Lena shrugs, her smirk firmly in place. “Looks like it’s just us.”

Great. Just you, Lena, and whatever tension has been simmering between you lately. You try to focus on the device in front of you—some kind of world-saving gadget Kara swore needed attention—but it’s nearly impossible with Lena standing so close.

“Fantastic,” you mutter under your breath. “Just me and the world-saving gadget.”

Lena leans in, her shoulder brushing yours ever so slightly, her voice dropping to a maddeningly low pitch. “You’ve got a brilliant mind, and I’m a genius. We’re good together.”

The double meaning in her words isn’t lost on you. Your throat tightens, your pulse kicking up. You grin despite yourself, hoping to keep things light. “Flattery? Is that how you survive the workday?”

Her smile lingers, warmer this time. “Maybe. But I mean it.”

The air between you shifts—heavier now, charged. Every glance, every brush of her hand sends your focus spinning. And then, as if the universe wants to make things even more difficult, Lena stretches, her shirt lifting just enough to reveal a sliver of a tattoo. Your mouth goes dry.

“Everything okay?” she asks, turning her head just enough to catch you staring.

You force a laugh, trying to sound normal. “Yeah. Totally fine.”

Her eyes narrow, amusement dancing in their depths. “Are you sure? You’re looking a little… flushed.”

You should’ve seen it coming—the teasing, the way her words seem to coil around you, the brush of her fingers against your arm. You should’ve expected it, but you’re thrown every time.

“Hot,” you blurt out, feeling like an idiot. “The room. It’s just... so hot.”

She leans in, impossibly close now, her breath brushing against your skin as she whispers, “You do tend to run hot a lot, don’t you?”

Your brain short-circuits. The world narrows to just her—the warmth of her proximity, the scent of her perfume, the way her voice feels like it’s wrapping around your chest and pulling tight. You can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t move.

When you don’t respond, she pulls back with a soft exhale, her gaze lingering. “Maybe we should take a break,” she suggests, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

You nod too quickly, practically bolting for the air vent. Sitting on the floor directly beneath it, you try to calm your racing heart. But of course, Lena follows, settling beside you—close enough to make you question if she’s doing it on purpose.

“You look tired,” she says after a beat.

“I’m fine,” you lie, closing your eyes like that might drown out the scent of her perfume or the way she’s completely invaded your space. “Just need a minute.”

And somehow, the next thing you know, you’re waking up with your cheek pressed to her shoulder. Her scent is intoxicating, her warmth like a trap you don’t want to escape. Your heart stutters as you jerk away. “Oh my God. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Relax, darling.” Her smirk is maddening, her tone teasing but impossibly soft. “I told you—you were tired.”

Your face burns. “Yeah, but I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine.” Her grin doesn’t falter, her eyes dancing with something that makes your stomach flip. “I didn’t mind.”

Before you can say anything else, Kara and Alex return, their voices pulling you back to reality. You scramble to your feet, putting as much space as possible between you and Lena. But as the lab hums back to life, her warmth lingers on your skin, and her knowing smile burns in your mind, refusing to fade.

Then again you’ve somehow ended up in the thick of feelings you can't even comprehend.

“Director Danvers?” You press the comm into your ear, the usual buzz of activity humming in the background. “I’m in position for the lookout.” You scan the area once more, making sure no one’s watching. “And it seems I’m the only one here.”

“Great. Supergirl’s on her way with backup,” comes Alex’s voice over the comm, calm but urgent. “Just sit tight and take pictures if you see someone entering the place. We need proof this is a Cadmus lair.”

“Copy that. I’ll stay put.”

The place they’ve stationed you at is… unexpected. You thought secret lairs were supposed to be hidden, not right on the water like some kind of expensive real estate. The view is gorgeous—wide, endless blue stretching out to meet the horizon, the water sparkling in the late afternoon light. It almost feels too peaceful for the task at hand.

Minutes later, you hear the faint sound of a familiar whoosh, and Supergirl lands beside you, Lena tucked gently in her arms. As she sets Lena down, Kara gives you a brief smile. “Okay, I’ll leave you two here for a minute. I’ll be back to pick you up before we break in. Lena, use the watch if you need me.”

Lena gives her a small nod, her eyes lingering on Kara for just a moment before she turns to you. “We’ll keep a lookout, boss.” She tries to be casual, but there's an edge of uncertainty in her voice.

Kara winks before she takes off, leaving you alone with Lena. You know it’s time to talk. You’ve been avoiding her—after that last time you saw her, when you fell asleep on her shoulder, things have been weirder. But now, standing next to her, so close, you can’t keep pretending like it doesn’t matter. You have to break the silence.

“Hey,” you say, your voice is a little softer than you meant. She glances at you, her expression unreadable for a beat before she offers you a tight smile.

Lena takes a seat next to you, her gaze shifting toward the lair. “Looks like something my mother would do,” she says, voice steady but with a hint of something else you can’t quite place. “Have a secret lair in plain sight. With a view like that.”

She gestures toward the building, but it’s clear her attention is more on you than the lair. You catch her glance, and for a moment, you’re not sure if it’s just the light or if her eyes are a little softer than usual.

“It is gorgeous,” you agree, your voice barely above a whisper. You’re not sure if you’re still talking about the view. It’s hard to focus on anything else with her so close—so close that you can feel the warmth from her body.

Lena shifts a little, and her leg brushes against yours. The contact is light, but it makes your heart stutter. She doesn’t pull away. Neither do you.

The two of you stay silent for a beat, the tension hanging in the air like a storm ready to break. You wonder if she feels it too—the quiet, invisible thread between you. Her hand, resting casually on the edge of the bench, inches closer to yours. You’re acutely aware of the soft sound of her breath, the way her shoulder brushes yours when she shifts.

For a moment, it feels like the world has narrowed down to just the two of you, and everything else—the lair, the mission—fades into the background. It’s just Lena, and you, and the air between you that’s thick with unspoken words.

And then you realize—you’ve been holding your breath.

You blink, coming out of your dream-like state, and press the comm in your ear. "Director, we're about to lose daylight soon." You glance at the sky, watching the soft pink hues spread across the horizon. "Should we move?"

“No, stay put. Supergirl’s following Lillian’s car as we speak. She might be approaching the lair.”

“Copy that.” You bite your lip, still feeling the weight of the moment, and glance back at Lena. “You’re okay? With... all of this? The whole situation with your mom?”

“Oh, yeah. I know what the Luthors are capable of,” she says with a quiet resolve. Her eyes stay fixed on the lair, but you catch the flicker of something deeper behind her words. “I’m just glad we’re here to help.”

You nod, agreeing with her sentiment, but there's something unspoken hanging in the air between you two.

“The sun’s setting soon,” you say, fidgeting with the small flashlight in your hand. “I have this, but I don’t think we can use it without giving away our position.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lena replies, her voice light, trying to brush off the tension. “I’m not scared of the dark. Unless… you are.”

You raise an eyebrow, giving her a playful side-eye. “Please. I’m an agent of a secret organization. There are very few things I’m scared of.”

Lena leans in, her gaze intense yet teasing, and her lips curl into a mischievous smile. “Oh? Do tell.” she whispers, as if the question is more of an invitation than anything else.

Her proximity makes your heart skip a beat. The warm air between you feels electric, charged with an unspoken challenge. For a moment, you forget about the mission, your mind drifting away, caught in the rhythm of her words, the softness of her breath.

You almost want to tell her that you are scared—scared of this, right here. Scared of how close you’ve gotten, of how something so small—a glance, a smile, a shared silence—feels like it’s pulling you in, deeper and deeper. Scared of where it might lead, or worse, scared that it might not lead anywhere at all.

The words hang in your throat, heavy and unspoken.

Instead, you shrug, your smile a little too soft as you watch her, feeling the warmth in your chest. “You know, there are just some things even secret agents can’t prepare for. Like... how distracting a pretty face can be.”

Lena studies you, her gaze softening as she leans in just a little, her eyes flicking between your lips and your eyes. She’s so close now, and the air between you is thick with something unspoken, charged with a tension that feels almost electric. Your heart races and everything else fades away.

Then, just as you think she’s about to close the gap, her lips brush against yours—the softest, most fleeting contact. It sends a jolt through you, a rush of warmth that leaves you breathless, like time itself has stilled for a heartbeat.

But before you can even fully process it, Supergirl’s voice crackles through the comm, “Guys, she took a detour. I think you’re in the wrong place.”

The sudden interruption shatters the moment, and you both pull back quickly, your breath shaky, your pulse still thrumming in your ears. Lena’s gaze flits away from you, disappointment settling heavily in the air, though neither of you says a word.

“What should we do?” you ask into the comm, trying to steady your voice.

“I'll follow through. We have more agents here. You two head back to the DEO. We’ll see you soon.”

You glance back at Lena, a flicker of disappointment in your eyes. “Back to business as usual, then?”

Lena meets your gaze, her expression soft and sincere, but there’s a wistful edge to her voice. “I hope not.”

The flirtation between you two, once subtle, quickly intensifies. The soft touches, the lingering glances, evolve into something raw—unspoken, but palpable. It feels magnetic, inevitable, like you're helplessly swept into something you can’t escape. You can't not flirt back, can't not lean into the charged moments between you.

There’s something heady in the way she looks at you, in the tension you both refuse to acknowledge. It’s like standing on the edge of something deeper, something that makes your heart race and your thoughts scatter. You can’t name it, but it’s undeniable, humming in the silence. The air around you crackles, thick with something everyone else seems to notice, too.

And that’s why you keep ending up in situations like this. Over and over, like you’re addicted to the chaos of it all. To the way she pulls you into these intoxicating, strange moments. And now, you're left wondering if it’s the situation you crave—or just her.

Whatever it is, you need more of it.

[iwillstabifnecessary]

Tma headcanons: some of these hurt

So I like to think pre-coffin daisy had long hair that was ether in a ponytail or braid, which she cut off post because it was choking around her and post coma jon has pretty long hair grown during the events of previous seasons usually puts his hair back with office supplies like paper clips the office rubber bands, has had Daisy who keeps a hair tie on her wrist as a former habit from long hair coming up to him abd just asking if she can braid it as something to do, so after the coffin its not uncommon to find Jon with his hair and a braid or Daisy braiding Jons hair as he reads a statement

Research era Jon had very long hair and cut it when he got the promotion but during that research era with his hair he would use paper clips and actual rubber bands to hold his hair back and did it until Sasha gave him an actual hair tie which he kept on his wrist after he cut it and after the not!sasha reveal he kept it until he could use it again ie 3-5 was wearing it in his hair in a braid that martin learned how to do when he killed the not!them

the archival assistants dragged jon to a pride parade in season 1 and there was a Polaroid taken that is one of the few photos that Jon, Martin, and Tim had of the true Sasha and Jon regrets that he wasn't truly smiling in that photo even though he was having actual fun and jon also risked every thing to get the photo and brought it with him and martin to the safe house and kept it with them during the eyepocalypse it was in Jon’s front coat pocket in the end

This is a sad one after escaping the lonely when martin makes tea it can stay warm and comforting for very long because he's unintentionally lonely this does have a plus side because Jon can't make tea for anything so in the safe house martin teaches Jon how to make both their properly and Jon gets to pay martin back for all the times Martin made him tea

Jon is some form of neurodivergent ie either autism or adhd and when in a hyperfocus will sing/hum any song he hears and in this state is very impressionable so Tim will take advantage of this ie sing toxic by Britney Spears

Jon and Tim both love Monty Python and the two before the transfer to the archives would quote it to each other

Sasha and Tim are each others support system so if tim has a nightmare about Danny he will call her and if Sasha has a very bad day Tim will come over and just give her a shoulder to cry on, this stopped after Sasha got replaced because the not!them wouldn’t pick up the phone

The mechs were in fact Jonathan Sims, The Archivist’s university band, and were his found family

Jon wears skirts

Georgie is trad goth

Melanie is 5’1-5’2, Jon is a singular inch taller

Tim is tall wears Hawaiian shirts, heelles, and has dyed pink or blue hair

[bulkyphrase]

Post-CACW Stony: a fic rec list

I've been on a Captain America: Civil War kick lately, and since I know that Steve-friendly CW Stony fic can be hard to find, I've put together a rec list!

I am thoroughly team cap, but these range from being anti-accords to just not getting into the issue, and all are Steve-friendly as long as you can accept a lot little loving Steve-whump.

Atlas by nanasekei (@elcorhamletlive) (Not Rated, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, 11,505 words)

Summary: They don't hear each other.

Eigengrau by vorkosigan (@the-vorkosigan) (Teen And Up Audiences, 16,811 words)

Summary: Tony is captured; he doesn't know by whom, or why. He doesn't know how much time has passed since. What he knows is, he can now hear something in the adjacent cell, and that 'something' sounds a lot like Steve Rogers.

Nights When the Wolves Are Silent, and Only the Moon Howls by Cluegirl, Defiler_Wyrm (@cluegrrl) (Mature, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, 77,612 words)

Note: has a Stucky element too, but the relationship between Steve and Tony is the main focus.

Summary: “Could you drop all that stoic shit and be my freaking-the-hell-out wingman for just like, five seconds here?” Steve wasn’t sure he could think of anything he wanted less to do than to freak out about his wounds just then though, so he reached across his chest and gingerly patted Sam’s clenched knuckles. “It’ll be fine,” he promised, believing it. “Serum’s handled worse.” “You know, I actually believe you,” Sam allowed after a long second of glaring. “Which is deeply alarming, considering how much of your connective tissue I’ve touched in the last 4 hours. Now you wanna tell me what Russoff’s men did to you that made it look like you got mauled by a bear?” Steve flinched, then breathed the memory down to size. “Not a bear,” he murmured. “Wolves.”

More below the cut!

(trust me when i say) i'll get back to you by machi_kun (@machi-kun) (General Audiences, 1,549 words)

Summary: “Me and Rogers are not on speaking terms anymore.”

An Infinite Number Of Monkeys At Typewriters (Or, Steve and Tony Finally Get It Right) by JenTheSweetie (@jenthesweetie) (Mature, 18,864 words)

Summary: Tony blinked up at the face staring down at him. This was impossible. This was definitely 100% not possible, he had not just started giving a good morning handy to - “Steve?” After the events of Civil War, Tony and Steve wake up in bed next to each other in an alternate universe. It goes about as well as you'd expect it to.

And Miles to Go Before I Sleep by Cluegirl (@cluegrrl) (Mature, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, 152,765 words)

Summary: They all made mistakes. They all have regrets. They all have nightmares, suspicions, and questions they'd like to ask. And they all left business behind them that was never quite finished. This is the story of how the Avengers ask those questions, get their answers, and come together like fucking adults to make things right again.

Bring Him Home by seventymilestobabylon (@seventymilestobabylon) (Explicit, 13,769 words)

Summary: Tony misses Steve very badly after the Accords. Some days he deals with it better than other days. (a fic featuring the booty call flip phone, minor kidnappings, and time jumps between chapters because the election has been happening and my brain has been too mush to make a proper plot)

Conjugal Visits by xtricks (Explicit, 4,252 words)

Summary: AU: Steve Rogers gets captured fairly soon after Civil War and sent to the Raft. Tony discovers that trying to appease your enemies doesn’t work and ends up a prisoner too.

Down Came the Rain by captainoutoftime (@captain-outoftime) (Explicit, 75,274 words)

Summary: A mission goes badly for Natasha, who is discovered de-aged to three years old. She recognizes no one, but every kid knows Captain America. When Tony grudgingly makes a call, Steve makes good on his promise to answer. Steve has to work together with Tony to take care of a traumatized child and figure out how to turn their itsy bitsy spider back into a Black Widow. Neither of them really want to talk about what happened in Siberia, but living in close quarters, they have to come to some sort of peace - even if it means addressing some feelings they'd rather not admit to having. As they work together to solve the problem of a re-emerging Red Room, Steve uncovers something he never expected to find again: family.

Hating Steve Rogers by nanasekei (@elcorhamletlive) (Not Rated, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, 16,243 words)

Summary: The thing about hating Steve Rogers is that it shouldn’t be easy - but it really, really is.

I Have Questions by YourFadedGlory (HisNameWasAce) (@yourfadedglory) (Not Rated, 2,808 words)

Summary: There is only so much that Steve can carry. His legs quiver and his heart aches, he looks skyward, and in a startling moment of clarity he lets the shield go. Gouged and battered, it rings like a bell when it hits the stone floor. He wonders for a split moment if it will weigh on Tony the way it has weighed on him.

The Crying Game by fohatic (@fohatic) (Explicit, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, 36,403 words)

Summary: Steve Rogers stared at the dimly glowing digital screen of the little burner phone, rereading the text message as if it might somehow give away something he missed the first dozen times he scrutinized it. His frown only deepened, though, brows drawing together with consternation as the 88 characters only left him with an even more ponderous sense of uncertainty. If you meant what you wrote, I'll be at the Swissotel Sarajevo, 4/18. Presidential Suite. 9pm. Come alone. ...Nearly a year after Steve and Tony's fallout—and only weeks after press rumors that Tony and Pepper's engagement was inexplicably called off—Steve gets a message on the dedicated burner phone. Despite his instinctive reservations, he's compelled to answer the mysterious call. An approximately canon-compliant story.

the hope that kills you by meidui (@meidui) (Mature, 1,227 words)

Summary: Steve used to go on so much about freedom and choice. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose. Some of the freedom he loved was big, big enough for him to lay his life down for over and over, and some of the freedom he loved was small, like the wind in his hair when he took his motorcycle out, but now he has to sob and take it when Tony sucks a deep flowering bruise where his prison uniform couldn’t possibly cover and whispers in his ear, “Who’s gonna help you now? Where are you gonna run?”

live for the hope of it all by meidui (@meidui) (Mature, No Archive Warnings Apply, 1,880 words)

Note: This is a sequel to the hope that kills you

Summary: “You can keep me here, can’t you?” Steve asks a little desperately as Tony kneels over him, spreading himself out all the better for Tony to take. He must have really hated his cell on the Raft, Tony thinks before he loses himself in Steve’s body, and for a little while, everything is the same as it has been for the past six months. It’s only after, in the dark and quiet of his own bedroom with Steve sprawled sleepy and heavy across his chest that Tony realises— This is their cell now.

The Phone by AvengersNewB (@avengersnewb) (Mature, 9,039 words)

Summary: Tony hates the flip phone Steve sends him, but he keeps it close at all times, and it never rings until it finally does and the news might help put things into perspective - Captain America : Civil War fix-it. or The phone can't take the place of your smile. [podfic added as chapter 2]

the things we invent when we are scared by nanasekei (@elcorhamletlive) (Not Rated, 18,305 words)

Summary: Steve is trapped in a dream machine, programmed to make him believe he's living his happiest fantasy. Tony goes inside to wake him up, but what he finds is a lot more complicated than he expected.

there's nothing but blue skies by Meatball42 (Mature, Major Character Death, 647 words)

Summary: “This isn’t good,” Steve said grimly.

[aithusarosekiller]

I saw your Jegulus post about them not being the typical teenage romance and can I just give you a double high five in agreement! I then HAD to find one of many moments I've written for them which exemplify this and share it with you. And this one is the one I settled on. Remus' POV, year five for the Marauders, year four for Regulus. Context is, this is the first time Remus has spent time with James and Regulus together after discovering their secret relationship. It's James' birthday and Lily wants James occupied all day so she can prep for his party. Lily also knows about James and Regulus BTW, makes contextual sense in the story (Sirius does not know, doesn't apply to this scene though).

Hope you enjoy. :)

>>><<<

There were people who loved each other, like Remus loved Sirius. He would have handed Sirius his body, heart, and soul. He loved him with every ounce of his being. And yet… There were people who loved each other, and then there was James and Regulus.

Remus could think of no other way to describe it. They weren’t two hearts beating for each other. They were the void between heartbeats. They occupied the infinitesimal moment as an inhale became an exhale. They were two people, who shared a single soul. And being around them was both intoxicating and strange. Remus felt like if he breathed too hard in their direction he’d mess with their air, which was exactly perfect between them as their breaths mingled. For surely two people so melded would only breathe the air of the other. And then they would poke fun at each other and their aura would brighten, literally bringing each into sharper visual focus, before it blurred again as they melted back into each other. 

They didn’t even have to be touching (though they nearly always were) for this phenomenon to take place. And for half the day Remus thought he was merely groggy from the Pamoja wielding. He thought his brain was sending him confused signals as he watched James and Regulus be James and Regulus. 

But a massive lunch, plenty of teenage goofing off, and exploring the surrounding forest left him with a very clear mind and the same mental signals. At which point Remus decided James and Regulus were an exhibition in their own category of relationship, absolutely unique to them. Love was not the word he would use to describe them. It was so much more. They filled the spaces no one else even noticed. And it merged their existence into a single organism. 

It was fucking intense. 

After they parted ways, as James and Remus continued up to the castle together, Remus said tentatively, “hey, so is it always like that?”

“What do you mean?” asked James absently. 

“Er, do you really not know.”

James glanced over at him. “It’s always like that, yeah.”

“Bloody hell.” Remus couldn’t get a good read on James’ face for they were walking side by side, but he thought James might be smiling. “I knew he had to be something special and way more substantial than he looks to withstand your affection, but Godric James. I don’t even know what to call that. I’m not sure it’s physically sustainable.”

“He’s my star.”

“Mate, he’s your fucking universe.”

James playfully threw out an elbow and definitely didn’t look at Remus. 

“What can I say, we are infinite. Don’t look so scandalized, you and Sirius aren’t so different.”

“No, we are very different. We exist in the physical world James. You two are already way out there in your own orbit.”

“See why I can’t lose him.”

They took several paces before Remus spoke.

“James, I’m scared for you. That kind of connection has to be dangerous.”

“Want to stop and have a smoke?”

“Took the words right out of my mouth mate.”

<3

JUST REMEMBERED I HAD THIS IN MY INBOX FOR AGES I AM SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG TO RESPOND TO THIS

But honestly it's one of my favourite things about them, the poetic quality makes it feel like they're finding each other again just when they need it at the same time as we're finding them when WE need it, you know?

That's so real though, the idea of the two of them being able to almost spiritually feed off of each other's presence is so true. Like existence is centred around them for a moment. They take over everything.

And it's probably bad in the long run but it's so beautiful that the pain is okay. Because without all of the painful bits, were the good parts really all that valuable?

Also I love your style, it feels real and almost factual if that makes sense? Even when you're describing metaphysical aspects the certainty gives a strong feeling of truth and rationality. I like it.

[chaotically--calm]

Nevermore headcanons, since it’s been a while (modern au)

Lenore, Pluto, and Duke all meet up to play Hades every once in a while

Duke’s favourite character is Thanatos, Pluto’s is Hypnos, and Lenore’s is Meg (since she reminds her on Annabel)

Eulalie and Berenice join sometimes, but neither of them have a device compatible for Hades, so they borrow one of the other’s

Eulalie’s favourite book series are tied between Miss Peregrine’s home, and Asylum

Annabel would never admit it, but her favourite band is Siouxsie and The Banshees

Of course, all the misfits also listen to goth music

Lenore likes Bauhaus, Eulalie’s favourite is Blackbriar, Duke likes Joy Division, Berenice likes Robert Smith, Morella *adores* Depeche Mode, and Pluto’s favourite band is The Cure

They can all agree on The Sisters of Mercy. Specifically, First And Last And Always

The group all like watching Descendants movies. Whether it’s genuine, or just to make fun of it varies from person to person

Montresor plays League of Legends

Lenore, Pluto, and Duke all live together, Morella lives with Annabel and Ada (she’s moving out), and Eulalie and Berenice live together

Eulalie’s room is full of old porcelain dolls she finds, and Berenice can’t walk past her door without getting chills

Theo helped Lenore move away from their parents

Theo went to University on a scholarship

All the misfits see Theo as an authority figure that they actually respect

Pluto has a jacket covered in patches from his and his friends favourite bands

The jacket has the lyrics to Boys Don’t Cry painted onto the left forearm

Lenore drew a guitar tab for Silent Hedges onto the back of Pluto’s jacket. He’s become a music stand for her

Lenore plays guitar and violin. The latter was from when she was going through the “I wanna be just like my older sibling” phase

Berenice and Pluto have both bitten people. Only Berenice has drawn blood

Duke is a musical theatre kid

Pluto and Lenore often wake up to Duke singing along to a soundtrack

“AND IM AKING WHY LOORD, IF THIS IS HOW I DIE LOOOORD, WHY BE LEFT WITH NO FAMILY AND NO FRIENDS??”

“DUKE!! It’s 6 am!!! GO BACK TO SLEEP”

Eulalie also does this, but late at night

Sometimes they FaceTime each other to annoy as big of an area at one time as possible

Dolly is sick of Poppet

Because Miss Poppet will stand outside Dolly’s window with a boombox playing some Taylor Swift song

[crguang]

marriage asks are making me wonder how it would be like to marry himeko...

r better be happy they got to marry himeko cuz they got to be w the girl that every sapphic in the universe wants.

himeko had to travel around the space cause she knew she'd drown in pussy if she stayed on ground 😭😭

oh my god…. i can’t even picture the bliss. getting to marry the prettiest, kindest, sweetest angel in the cosmos you have to be some kind of otherworldly being. himeko’s the dream girl of every sapphic in the universe and their parents who would be thrilled to have her as a daughter in law. shes just so perfect to me omfg. i know she’s had to politely shut down so many love confessions because “trailblazing is her path” but me personally i’d embark on that train and leave everything i know behind if it meant i’d be seeing her every day. idc. drowning in pussy is sending me tho😭😭😭

marrying himeko means you have the most reliable partner ever. she’s always there to help even when you dont realize you need any, she’s the best listener and gives the greatest, warmest hugs whenever you need one. does her best to cheer you up if you’re sad, always follows through on her promises and commitments to you, finds creative solutions that work for the both of you if you’re at an impasse like wow. she’s just a great partner all around because shes so understanding and wants to make you happy above all. physical touch is a must; whether it’s full or side hugs, holding hands, cupping your cheek, a hand on your lower back, gripping your thigh, playing with the ring on your finger, kissing you chastely or deeply— she does it all. cuddling at night is her favorite thing and she loves being the big spoon. baths where the back of her head rests on your shoulder and your arms are around her… simple and innocent acts of affection through physical touch makes her melt. sometimes she lifts her left hand and stares at her ring with the cutest smile on her face. she remembers every anniversary and plans something cute for each even if its small. she’s a busy girl but still insists on making time for you when she can. you’re never apart too long without her making up for it in the most romantic, thoughtful way. im rambling but marriage with hime would actually be equivalent to walking on clouds, she never stays mad longer than a day and wants to fix things up immediately because she cant stand you being angry either each other and shes great at compromise anyway so shes just perfect ok. i need to propose to her

[naturallyteal]

The Wrestlers

An Epic Poem for a “chosen hero”* for GOetry Monday

prompt by @isiaiowin

Settle in, this one is long…

Canto I

A Dame of Grace and sunlight was the Queen

A mighty sovereign of all her realm

And all her court she gathered on the plain

To play a game she had herself devised.

It was a joust with very simple rules,

The oldest game in every universe:

The High Queen drew a line into the sand

And said: let there be sides, one Black, one White.

Now let those sides be diff’rent from each other,

And that may make them hate and go to war,

And as a symbol of that war both sides

Are to appoint one special champion each.

A hubbub went through both sets, Black and White,

As they stood, anxious, on their playing field,

And as they didn’t know what fight would come

And weren’t allowed to talk, now, with their foe,

They issued forth as their ambassador

Two very different champions, such as this:

Canto II

The Black side chose a snake of mighty cunning,

So fluid and graceful in his moves, so sly,

Like quicksilver and swift in his defence,

As well as his attack. They thought he’d win

Each kind of challenge She could throw at him.

Masterful his scheming and so wily,

A serpent well-skilled in imagination,

Brink-full of optimism, more than any.

The White side chose the best of their sword-fighters,

So strong and solid, principled and upright,

Like a tall mountain, unchanged and unchanging,

Soldier incarnate, Guardian, and the Queen’s Knight.

They reckoned nothing, aye, could overcome him,

No bird’s beak grind down any of his substance,

And that his wide intelligence would shield him

Against all onslaughts of a tempting rival.

Behold the moment both chosen opponents

Face off each other, commencing the battle!

Canto III

An arena has aptly been created

The Queen and all the courtiers are well watching,

The contestants have been prepared and readied,

And all the world forgets to breathe with tension:

They take each other’s measure, careful, cautious,

And each thinks: why me? What the deuce I do now?

And as they start amiably to chatter,

And find they think each other quite enticing,

The Queen gets bored and orders them to wrestle!

A cheer runs through the crowds of bichrome colours,

And all the hate the teams accumulated,

Is channeled into our two beloved champions.

They bow to pressure from the folks around them

Both Queen and peers appear too much to gainsay,

And they undress as is for wrestling custom

And oil their skins and stretch and warm their muscles.

Canto IV

Our heroes Black and White, the best of each side

Have took the measure of their situation

And of each other and begin to wrestle.

They quickly thus develop an Arrangement:

They both do what they have to do to uphold

An image of two adversaries wrestling,

But careful not to really hurt each other…

Because what happens when one of them wins this?

And as the wrestling match goes on for aeons,

They keep refining tricks and grips and touches,

Making a home in this their magic show act;

They keep pretending, prestidigitating,

And actually they get quite comfortable

With little bits they’re carving out for themselves

And for each other, until someone calls out:

“Are you certain that they’re really wrestling?”

Final Canto

How Higher Powers play with us below,

And we are only pawns upon their board,

This tale has shown thee, listener agape:

God doesn’t give a damn, make your own story!

~Fine~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

* my chosen hero is Azicrow

notes and credits:

The pictures above with wings, and the background story my poem refers to, are from this tumblr post . The picture without wings is from this tumblr post . Both posts are by @fuckyeahgoodomens . Thanks and kudos!

And as a treat for everyone who made it so far into this long post 🤭, I warmly recommend this amazing comic about the wrestling statue and our heroes on AO3, “Man to Man” by Fledglinger @fledglingdoodles . Warning: explicit, very NSFW! They are also my source of this link to a 3D model of the original (wingless) statue for all you fanartists who might want to draw it!

[heartsswirls]

Any Style fanfiction recommendation pls? Btw your sp fanart is gorgeous

..! Which App do you use for dijital art

RAHHH Thank you so much!! I use procreate for all my artwork ✨

Ooooh you are not ready for all the style fanfics I have saved on my phone...💚💙

Starting with my all-time favourite (and arguably the most loved in the style fandom)

The Scenic Route - hollycomb

Rated E, 116k words

I've reread it more than 5 times already, and every time I do, the build-up has the same intensity as it did the first time. All the characters in this fic feel true to the characters in the show, especially Style's dynamic. I think I love this fic even more when I first read it back in 2022 because I was also graduating high school and moving on to university.

Read it, trust me - it will change your life.

Paper Crowns and Waverunners - hollycomb

Rated T, 12k words

There's something so special about seeing Stan and Kyle growing up together and helping each other in little moments of time. The way they come to appreciate each other so much as best friends, not knowing this is how love between two individuals should feel. The gradual frustrations from Kyle are depicted soooo well in this fic - you'll love it.

I would love to go on talking about the other fics below but schoolwork is kicking me in the ass rn so I'll leave you with the links!

a quiet place (where I can scream how much I love you) - sleep2thefr33zing

Erendriel - roguendeavor (I can't find the link anymore on ao3 but it's an amazing SOT Style fic)

I Feel So - Brat-Child3 - (the writing was a little clunky at first, but it does get exponentially better + Style angst went crazy for this one)

I have soooo many more style recs but these are the first few that left a lasting impact on me, lmk if you want me to send you a DM!

[notorious-nincompoop]

“I have known you since before I knew you” 🤝 “I’ve missed you even when I didn’t remember you”