#and a bit of angst

[throneofsapphics]

piercings

poly!Rowaelin x f!Reader

Summary: “You can thank me, by quitting doing stupid things when you’re drunk.” 

I hummed. “No promises.” 

Warnings: nudity, piercings, blood, slight possessive behavior, drinking, a tiny bit of fluff.  

Word Count: ~1.3k

I came home drunk, stumbling into my room, laughing to myself. I’d drank enough alcohol that I didn’t feel the pain of my recently pierced nipples brushing against my dress. I had to take a few breaths after opening the door, pressing my hand against the frame to steady myself. 

I stumbled into my bathroom, leaning over the sink to splash cold water on my face. I stripped away my dress, tossing it into the basket without a second thought, my underwear following. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, nipples swollen and slightly bloodied around the piercing. “Clean that in the morning,” I mumbled to myself, thinking clearly enough to write a note, placing it under a paperweight. 

Cln piercing in mrninh. I examined my work. Good enough, I might not remember it anyways. I stumbled into bed, still naked and probably reeking. I’d have to get new sheets in the morning, but right now taking a bath alone would be risky - considering how intoxicated I am. I slipped under the silky sheets, thanking whatever Gods might still be around for Aelin’s taste in luxury. 

-

I woke up the next morning to a sharp pain on my breasts and my eyes shot open. Small droplets of blood dotted the white sheet barely covering me. I yanked it back. Two bars, right through both of my nipples. Dear Gods, how drunk was I? 

I groaned, pulling myself out of bed and grabbing a nightgown, wincing as I pulled it around myself.

A note stood out on my desk, crumpled parchment shoved under a paper weight with a pen messily discarded next to it.

Cln piercing in mrninh.

That explains just how drunk I was. I winced as they pushed against the fabric again, and loosened the strip of fabric tying my robe together. Could I get away with walking around the castle naked? That might be a stretch, and might result in someone’s murder. 

When Rowan and Aelin found out about this … pulling them out would be futile, they’d notice the small wounds left behind anyways. At least I remember going to a professional piercer, getting them done with a friend. I discarded the note, and went to clean them as best as I could, bending awkwardly over the sink, hissing as I dabbed a cloth against them. If these got infected I’d never hear the end of it. I likely won’t hear the end of it now. I splashed water on my face and dressed, foregoing the band and choosing a loose top, taking a few deep breaths before resigning myself to my fate, and heading for the dining hall. 

We kept separate rooms for this exact purpose - my stumbling into the castle at ungodly hours, often when both of them needed to be up early. Plus, I did enjoy having my own space sometimes. 

-

Aelin noticed something was off as soon as Y/n walked in. She knows she went out last night .. probably hungover as hell. She slid her a cup of tea with a small smile, one she returned gratefully but looked a bit nervous.

“What did you do?” Rowan asked gruffly, setting down the papers he’d been looking out. 

“Go out.” She rolled her eyes, “you already knew that.” 

His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t question her further, turning back to the papers. 

… 

Later that night, she figured out exactly what she did. Y/n turned away as she changed, hiding her body from view and throwing a silky blue nightgown over. As she turned back, the moonlight hit her perfectly, outlining her breasts with … 

“What are those?” She carefully kept her voice even. 

“What?” Y/n said defensively, wrapping her arms around her chest. 

“You know what I’m talking about,” Aelin stalked towards her with predatory intent, pulling her arms away. Y/n hissed as she flicked one nipple, flinching back from her. Aelin’s eyebrows raised, “and when did that happen?” 

“When did what happen?” Rowan opened the door, spotting the two of them. 

“Nothing.” Y/n said through gritted teeth, keeping eyes firmly fixed on Aelin, pleading. Aelin just grinned like the cat who caught the canary, before turning to Rowan. 

“Her nipples are pierced.” 

He stalked over, pushing Aelin slightly out of the way to look. “Who did those?” His voice grew dangerously low. Sounding as pissed as Aelin felt. Y/n, likely drunk off her ass, getting a piercing where someone else saw her half naked. Saw her mate naked. 

“A piercer.” Y/n snapped, looking out towards the window, avoiding both of them. She yelped as Rowan’s hands grabbed the nightgown, ripping it off of her. “I liked that one.” She protested, but he stared at the small piercings cutting through her rosy pink nipples, and trailed a finger around them, ignoring her wince. 

“What the hell were you thinking?” He seethed. 

“I was thinking I wanted to do something fun. With a friend.” 

“Letting someone else see you half naked is ‘fun’?” Rowan tilted his head, the question a challenge. 

“That’s not what I said.” Y/n snapped back. 

“If you wanted them badly enough, I would’ve done them.” He countered, “Not some random person.”

“And have you given one before?” 

His eyebrows raised. “I’m over 300 years old.” 

“So? You grabbed some ice and a needle, and stuck it through someone's ear, that doesn’t make you an expert.” He snarled at her, and she kept speaking before he could reply. “I like them,” and wrapped her arms around her chest, wincing as they hit the small wounds. 

“You let someone else touch you.” Rowan kept his voice mild, despite the anger rolling from him in waves. 

“They were professional,” She rolled her eyes, turning to head to the bathroom. Copper, Aelin scented, and intercepted her before she could go far, grabbing her upper arm so Y/n would face her. She frowned, looking down at her. 

“That’s not normally how you react when you see me naked.” Y/n hissed. 

“They’re bleeding.” Aelin muttered, before dragging her off to the bathroom to clean them. 

-

“They are pretty,” Aelin reluctantly admitted as she gently dabbed a cloth against them. 

“Maybe you should get matching ones.” I whispered quietly, low enough Rowan wouldn’t hear. Aelin’s eyes gleamed. 

“So he can be pissed at both of us?” 

“I’ll do them. Nobody needs to see their Queen half naked.” 

“Have you given someone a piercing before?” 

“Multiple times.” I winked, “but never nipples.” I frowned. Aelin snorted. 

“I love you, but I’m not letting you near me with a needle.” I huffed in fake annoyance, and she rolled her eyes before kissing my cheek and pushing me back into the room. 

Rowan’s eyes devoured me as we walked back out, piercings and all. I pointedly ignored him, picking up the torn cloth and throwing it into a spare basket. Maybe I could salvage it another day. I was sorting through, looking for something else to sleep in so I wouldn’t ruin the sheets, when he gently gripped my shoulder, a small tin in hand. He didn’t say anything but opened it and carefully rubbed a salve on the surrounding area. A bit of relief came through, and I sighed in content. 

“Only because I don’t want them to get infected.” He grunted, reaching over me and grabbing a night gown before motioning for me to lift my arms, and he tugged it down my body, lifting it so it wouldn’t drag against the bars. 

“Thank you,” I said softly, pressing up on my toes to kiss his cheek. 

“You can thank me, by quitting doing stupid things when you’re drunk.” 

I hummed. “No promises.” 

He rolled his eyes, but tugged me back towards the bed. Dropping the tin off on a small table.  

[skyasimaru]

Here we go! New podfic alert. ^

This one has been on my radar for a while, the lovely @waywarder's "Gathering Swallows, or: Little to do About a Pumpkin Coffee". It's a very sweet Good Omens snippet about Crowley considering the implications of a gift he is bringing Aziraphale. I hope you enjoy it!

In case you would rather read with your eyes instead of your ears, here is the link to Waywarder's original story: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26564725

Either way you indulge, I hope you enjoy it! Stay safe out there!

Very Respectfully,

SkyAsimaru

[chaosandwolves]

since I was granted a freebie would you mind telling me about Wait for me to come home? 👀✨

Hehe

Yes this is a cuuuute one if I may say so

I was thinking... what if something happens to Connor and his wife and Buck ends up actually being the father of his son?

And as tragic as it is, and as scary as it is, it makes him happy.

But it's also overwhelming af but the 118 got his back.

Eddie got his back.

Buck moves in with the Diaz boys so Carla can look after both Chris and the baby when the boys are working.

And they so naturally transition into being a proper family together that weeks later, it takes Eddie a whole five minutes after leaving the house to realize that he just kissed Buck good-bye... On his lips…

A lil snippet of what follows

If he sits in his car for 10 minutes outside his house the next morning before he gathers the courage to finally go inside, no one has to know.

And no one has to know how he can feel his heart beating in his throat and how his hands are clammy and how he feels like an awkward teenager as he walks through the front door.

He takes deep breath and ignores the slight instability around the edges of his voice when he calls out, "I'm home!"

For a second he thinks he might be in luck and Buck is out running some errands.

But then he appears in the door frame of his bedroom with his son resting content in his arms against his chest and Eddie's heart skips a beat.

Eddie doesn't know what to do and remains frozen in the hallway, his head simultaneously way too frantic and way too quiet to be able to come up with anything coherent.

Buck, however, doesn't leave him hanging for long.

He moves out into the hallway, takes two steps before coming to a halt right in front of Eddie. His voice is so rich and smooth when he greets him with a soft "Hey," that it sends a warm shiver down Eddie's back.

But instead of reacting to this greeting like a sane adult, Eddie, for some inexplicable reason, raises his hand and waves.

It's not even a proper gesture, just some awkward little movement of his hand as he replies, "Hi."

For a second he's convinced that Buck can hear how violently his heart is hammering against his chest and that he'll call him out on it.

Buck, however, grins one of these grins that spread over his entire face and that lights his eyes up so that they take on the color of a sunny summer sky.

And Eddie gets so lost in it that his brain forgets to process what happens next.

Buck leans in, the grin on his plush rosy lips growing even wider and suddenly these exact same lips are pressed against Eddie's.

He can feel how Buck breaks into a full on smile under the soft touch of their lips before he pulls back and Eddie can see Buck's eyes glinting with a mix of mischief and joy.

"Welcome home."

Eddie blinks and before he can gather his thoughts which had evaporated the second he felt Buck's lips brush against his own, Buck turns on his heels, walks into the kitchen and nonchalantly announces, "I made pancakes, abuela's recipe," as if he didn't just rattle Eddie's entire world and moved it off its hinges.

Eddie blinks again, his fingers rising up to touch the spot where he can still feel the kiss lingering on his lips. And for a moment he just stands there in utter disbelief and pure awe.

Eventually, Buck's voice brings him back into his body when it sounds from the kitchen over the familiar rattling of the espresso machine that Buck insisted on buying, "Cofffee?"

Half laughing, Eddie breathes out and briefly shakes his head to reactivate any functioning brain cells which he's not sure exist anymore in the first place.

But then he at least finds his voice again. "Yeah, yeah."

A soft smile remains on his lips as he follows Buck into the kitchen.

[sunnysideprincess]

Steve's mysterious birthday gift

Post CACW, fluff, angst, sweet, no salt

There is an extra package sitting on top of the loosely assembled pile of gifts. He has counted them all one by one. Nat's beautiful, hand knitted shawl was delivered from India. Wanda's coloring book for adults came from Hamburg. Bucky's hand made (from goat hair?) brush set was delivered by a surly looking undercover Wakandan spy. While Sam's collection of records was handed by the man himself.

But this one, this tiny unassuming one gave Steve a pause. If his treacherous little heart was right—god, he hoped he was right, and it came from where he thinks it did? Then Steve swore to himself he wouldn't waste any more days staring at the horizon. Just waiting and yearning for the startling streak of red to appear.

But if he was wrong and this little silver box turned out to be a bomb or toxic package or a homing signal...

Sam nudged his ribs, eyes wide and worried.

"Want me to send it to the Dora?"

The thought of Wakandan security tearing this unknown thing apart sent a terrible shard of pain through his chest, making him snatch it from the pile in haste.

Ignoring Sam's surprised flinch, Steve tore through the packaging.

Inside was a carefully crafted pocket watch. A little silver thing with a key that stole his breath away. Cheap metal scarred over and over. The kind which was invaluable.

It was an expensive, terribly expensive gift. Not of money but of time and resources. He doesn't even know how the sender got his hands on it.

He had known it to be lost with many things. Forgotten. A passed away relic nobody cared about. The one thing his mother carried with her. Her last connection to the home she left behind when she came to Brooklyn. The remnant she had to pawn off to survive one of the harshest winters they had ever known.

Steve remembered talking about it under the influence of Thor's Asgardian drink. He recalled curious eyes, sharp and focused. Eyes of the man who knew the value of memories, but not money.

"Oh," Steve breathed over the watch, thumbed it along the edge. He closed his eyes and took a moment to send out a prayer for his mother. Then pressed his lips over the watch.

Sam's eyes were on his. His silence not prying, not pressing for answers like Nat would. Only eternally patient and calm like he always was.

"This was my mom's. Well, my Nana 's I think. She had to pawn it off before. I thought -" His words caught up in his throat, so he cleared his voice and tried again. "I didn't..."

He closed his eyes and laughed silently.

"God, Tony's just- he's so stupid."

They were worlds apart. Ripped away from each other by their own volition. Unable to reach out because Steve was a criminal and Tony was still hurting, still curling around the wound over his heart. And yet...

Yet ...

Steve could almost hear it whispered over the immortal flame of a lone candle. A hand that held a tiny burnt cupcake smelling too strongly of vanilla and orange. A man torn between the past and the present confronted by a man always looking at the future.

Sam held out a card for him, looking solemn and pained, and a little bit jealous.

Steve would come to mull over it later, about his friend's distant gaze settled over the sky and the gun metal greys of his wings.

But right then, he took the card with gentle care, saw the generic wish written in familiar chicken scratch and ended up staring at the idiotic frowny face at the bottom for a long time.

He felt warmth bloom across his chest. Like his mother's gaze. Bucky's hand on his shoulder. Nat's smile. Wanda's humming. Sam's steady wisdom.

It was a bit like morning hope.

The kind that brought a streak of red and gold.

[leaiss]

I am this close to writing a very indulgent hurt/comfort insomniac!leander fic

[0ccuria]

In the 6 months after the Netherbrain debacle, Qi let's her hair grow out and before going to the reunion, has the kids in Raithwin braid and accessorize it for her 😊

[dream-phantasm]

Every adventure requires a first step.

Vil Schoenheit x Rook Hunt: Shrinking Potion

My first time writing a proper one shot! Writing this gave me second-hand embarrassment lol

Hope you enjoy!

Contains spoilers for Episode/Book 5. Might be OOC.

SUMMARY: Vil stumbled upon a shrinking potion in the snow. Rook comes to the rescue.

---

Vil was merely taking in the winter sights when his boots hit an object beneath the snow. He winced slightly but didn't make a noise. Hopefully, it hadn't ruined his boots. 

He was about to leave when Vil caught a glimpse of pink beneath the fresh white snow. Hm? He crouched down and pushed aside the snow gently with his gloves. 

There appeared to be a bottle of pink liquid. Probably a failed potion. Vil concluded upon not recognizing it. He scrunched up his nose, disposing of a failed potion like this was just distasteful.

With a sigh, Vil carefully handled it and walked toward the nearest trash can. What he didn't account for was the lid not being on properly. A single drop of it on his sleeve was all it took. 

The world suddenly began to spin as the world grew. 

"Oh, please!" He groaned. Thankfully, his voice did not become cartoonishly high. That wasn't one of his main concerns though. 

Vil took his magic pen from his coat pocket and cast a controlled fire shot. The snow melted only for the snow above it to replace the small hole he had made. He knew he wouldn't have enough magic to make his way back to the Hall of Mirrors.

With no other choice, he took his phone next. "Mira Mira, call Rook." Vil sighed. The phone sparked to life as it dialled his vice dorm head. He didn't have to wait long for him to pick up. 

"Vil! I was wondering where you'd gone." Rook gasped. "I was trying to dispose of someone's shrinking potion when it fell on my sleeve." He explained, the irritation slipping through his voice despite his attempts to keep calm. "I will find you immediately, don't worry! I See You!" Vil could hear him cast his unique magic.

Rook had given him a marked matching apple keychain a while back and Vil had taken to carrying it on him at all times. Sure, it was an incredible amount of trust to put in a person but Vil trusted Rook. Maybe sometimes too much. 

To his credit, Vil felt the ground trembling and heard Rook calling out for him quickly. "Roi de Poison! My beautiful Vil!" His frantic shouting rang out through the cold winter air. 

"Down here, by the trash can. Don't step on me." Vil said through the phone. He saw his brown boots before his golden locks and foxy emerald eyes came into view. Anyone seeing that would be terrified but it was Rook. Vil wasn't scared of Rook. 

Rook would only hurt him if it were for his own good, such as during VDC. He couldn't help but recall the way his heart sank as tears welled in his eyes upon the revelation that Rook had voted for Neige. Vil Schoenheit doesn't cry. 

"Let us return now, Roi de Poison!" Rook offered a gloved hand. Vil climbed on gracefully. "Rook, do I seem different?" Despite his obvious state, Rook only smiled in understanding. 

"My beautiful Vil, you retain your beauty no matter what form you take. I will always follow you." Rook lifted his palm up to his face, their eyes met. Suddenly, it all became so very clear to him.

"Kiss me."

A brief look of shock crossed those sharp green eyes of his. Vil closed his eyes, their lips gently touched. His world spun again and Vil found himself in Rook's arms. "True love's kiss, of course." Vil scoffed. Rook merely chuckled in response and Vil couldn't stop himself from joining him.

Ao3: HERE If you see it posted anywhere or by anyone else, it's not me.

[noodles-and-tea]

Twins in time au but they have slightly different reactions….

[ato-dato]

Piss off!!! Thanks!!!!!!!!!! :)))))

[hinamie]

mentor

[littlelightfish]

This... this is a whole different kind of psychic damage here. When nightmares got Marcille, we get to knew that her's biggest fear is outliving her friends. This isn't even canon probably, but look at this. This isn't a "I don't want my friends to die" kind of dream. This is a "I'm terrified of loosing my daughters, of something killing them, and being incapable of stopping it" kind of dream. It's so simple yet it explains perfectly the whole of chilchucks character. He loves, he cares, deeply. But he, or doesn't acknowledges, or doesn't know what to do with that knowledge.

Besides that. Someone had to wake him up after this. Imagine the devastation in this man after he wakes up. He just saw his three little babys murdered corpses (or maybe he saw them die, wich isn't better). He would possibly not talk about it, and that would worry the hell out of the party, because we'll, they see him all down and only one of them knows what he saw. Imagine being the one to pull him from that nightmare. Seeing this man, usually so composed, fuking staring with tears and terror in his eyes to the composes of what you can only assume are his daughters. It would be heartwrenching.

Idk, I love this man so much...

[gracieheartspedro]

"who we are" snippet #1 is coming out this friday. my hiatus is coming to a close. (;

[lovely-v]

I feel like some Fall Out Boy songs sound stupid until you listen to them in a very specific state of turmoil and then you’re like oh I get it hahaha yeah cheers Patrick yeah I’m gonna need u to sing that for me fifteen more times

[lotus-lost-n-found]

Some Batfam Headcanons because the brain never stops;

Jason hates being called "Bruce's Son". But he hates it more when hes called "One of Wayne's Orphans/Wayne's child" because fuck you I'm his son-! wait no--

With the exception of Damian, they rarely refer to Bruce as "Dad/Father". Either it didn't occur to them/didn't see the need to/thought it would be strange. But when Dick/Jason/Tim/Cass are tired or injured it might slip out. And Bruce might just crumble a bit at it

Doesn't mean they don't say it to their siblings when Bruce is out of Earshot.

"Dad said you couldn't." "What do you mean Dad said I couldn't use that mug? It's my mug!" "You snooze you lose Timmy Boy-" "Jason don't be an asshole-"

That being said Bruce says "son/daughter/child" at every available opportunity he can after he knows that they have acclimated enough that they wouldn't be uncomfortable/know they can tell Bruce that they don't want to be called that.

First time Bruce called Dick "son" in a way that meant "You are my kid" and not in a "This police officer just called me son with a brow furrow" way Dick grinned and carried on with the conversation. Later he wondered if his dad wouldn't like someone else calling him Son; but Dick thinks about the life he was given because of Bruce and thinks maybe his dad wouldn't mind.

Calling Jason "son" is a hit or miss situation, even before he died. The first time it happened he was confused, he didnt think that was the relationship they had and it made everything change for him. He got frustrated--not angry--with himself and Bruce at this sudden emotional turmoil. Wasn't he just the kid Bruce picked up in an alleyway? Wasn't he just some street rat in bright Robin clothing? (He lets himself believe that he can be Bruce's son. If for only a little while).

Tim cries after Bruce is out of earshot, it would've been a year or so after his parents died and he was adopted. He didn't think he could have been wanted like that again. Even if you think the Drake's had A+ Parenting or not, I don't think he would have gotten a lot of confirmation of being wanted otherwise.

Cass smiles, emotions carefully concealed under her expression. She's grateful she found Bruce and he doesn't mention it if she leans a bit closer in a request for closeness.

Damian doesn't expect anything less, he only appears satisfied. But also relieved that he has gotten the confirmation that yes, Bruce wants and accepts him.

EDIT 10/11; hiii, i have added Duke, Steph & a Bonus in a reblog you can find on the same blog under my 'batfamily headcanons' / 'sore rambles' tag. have fun :)

[sandflakedraws]

re : how each brother reacts learning that they can't go back

you'll have to pry the "all the Brozone Bros knew what happened at the tree" headcanon outta my cold, dead dead dead hands.

[hyenaa-euphoria]

hope 1/???

more angst!! i am actually building an au around this comic but I’ve never done aus before so like this is new to me!!!